So I learned of a new (to me) place today that really piqued-NO! PEAKED! my interest. That place is Nitro, West Virginia. That’s right; NITRO. Can’t fuck with it, people!
” *Ho-Hum*Just another boring night in Nitro, I guess.” Would that even make any sense?? Not in this universe, pal! Nitro is rockin’ off of the chain 24/7! God DAMN IT, I want to be a part of it all.
Can you fucking imagine the 3,000-or-so awesome meth-fueled 26 year old momgirls who run that town right now? Do you even want to? I do! Have been all day long, in fact.
I’ll bet the life expectancy around Nitro way is under 45. Hope so, anyway. Not because I am some kind of monster who wishes death on people, more that my vision for Nitro is that of confused and extremely fast-paced (literally. Like, doing everything REALLY FAST) living in a browned woodland area. Dangerous. Exciting. Unpredictable as all hell. Hidden from the rest of the world, and why would they give a fuck. Lots of rusted out badass trucks running any/all of the town’s 10 Stop signs at will. Going into the town’s Hardees or Dairy Queen to order just a small Coke with extra straws. The Sheriff is some dude named “Cranky Ed”, whose job it is to thump you over the head if you get too far out of line. Utopia in the Aarvarks…Adirondacks…fucking Apalachies. Whatever those are called.
I wonder if there is a strip club or two in Nitro. What wonderful places those must be. Especially around lunch time during the “workweek”. Do the people of Nitro even have to work, like you and I know it here in Turdsville-Because-It’s-Not-Nitro, USA? Maybe they don’t even work there-holy crap, I just thought about what the 4th Of July must be like in downtown Nitro. New Year’s Eve. FUCK! I want in! I don’t even know if I could hang…
Oh goddamn. I just googled Nitro and it seems they are located in THE CHEMICAL VALLEY, which “at its peak in the late 1950s and early 1960s, was the leading producer of chemicals in the world”. How vague but unquestionably awesome a feat! Those were obviously over-the-table “legit” chemicals. Imagine the illegal chemicals being cooked up there now. Holy cow, I want to go there so badly. Just for a week. I don’t know if a weekend would cut it. If I could hang, I mean. I’d probably be dead in two days. Funned to death. Ol’ Cranky Ed would find my tensed-up corpse in the center of town square on Monday morning, poke my body with a stick, shake his head and mutter, “Whut’a gulldang pussy. He coodn’t hang.”
The town chant doesn’t even need a “GO!” or a “HAIL!” All they gotta do is sternly say their town’s name and there you go. “NITRO.” You say it. See? Gets their point across. The point being: DO NOT FUCK WITH THIS PLACE: WE. ROCK. I get the point, Nitro. I think you probably rule. You have to. NITRO! My stupid ass town don’t even got no town chant, for fuck’s sake. And if we do, ain’t nobody told me ‘bout it none. Some fucking town unity we got here (Not! NIIIIGHTROOOOOUGH!!!?!)
Every place else I know of: FUCK OFF! Take a seat and tip your hats to Nitro, West fucking Virginia. Just the name alone…
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