I was digging through my vinyl this week, bleating like a goat with a vein full of tranquilizers, when I happened upon my pristine 1977 original Star Wars soundtrack. I figured what the douche cleat, why not get the speakers on the hardwood and blast some Imperial March at the fucker down stairs.
Now I rock one of those hip-cat Technics that you can scratch on and shit. Lifted it from an open van in Jersey some time back. Anyhow, I was a bit into the tune when I tripped near the turn table which hard-reversed the record. I heard a most disturbing sound...
Now when I say Chewy is filthy, you most likely not surprised. I mean, he's 8 feet tall, full on shag carpet and naked. Come to think it...so am I except for the 8 foot thing.
Me and Oates hung out with him at a Return of the Jedi party...seriously, the guy is a degenerate. First off, I saw him shit in the filter of George Lucas's pool. Not out of anger, just "being an artist" he said, if I recall correctly. And it surely is hard to recall anything correctly when you hang out with Chewy. Apparently, the weed on whatever plane wookies come from is the real deal man. Also, you find yourself engaging in strange sex acts that demand to be deleted from your memory by electric shock treatment or over indulgance in huffing kerosene.
BACK TO THE VINYL RECORD BITCHES!
Vinyl geeks. Go back to your '77 soundtrack and spin it in reverse. You will hear the most horrible sound imaginable: Chewbacca pounding one out to a R.O.F.Jedi photo of Carrie Fisher. Ever hear a wookie burn one down? If you're the dummy who lives in the apartment below, you most certainly have. Yeah Chewy!! Get some!!