TAPED TRANSCRIPT OF PHONE CALL BETWEEN JOSH JUST, KRISTEN McCRACKIN, ROGER DEMARIS
CASE NUMBER: 03-288612
DURATION:- 13 minutes
LOCATION: ~6 MILES SOUTH OF SHELBY, MONTANA
JJ－[inaudible] Literally like the most garbanzo beans practical joke in the history of humankind. [laughing] You fucking dummies. These fucking dummies.
KMC－You literally say that like all the time, literally. Literally I will be forced to force a sharp stick down your eardrum if you don’t quit.
JJ－Kinky,–but, no, seriously. [laughing] Okay, these dummies botched this thing so m. f’in bad, and like the whole set-up was just primo, like–! Bunch of filthy amateurs, dude, like,–okay, here. Close your eyes. Imagine this.
JJ－You get what I’m,–okay, so like, [inaudible] and Roger, he climbs on all the way up there with the power drill. Luckily, these born bozos, out of pure, universally ordained dumb luck I bet, these bozos actually manage to frickin bring the right sized drill bit; good thing, or else they’d have drove all the way down to Conrad not for shit, [laughs] but that ain’t what happened, so anyhow Roger climbs on up there with the drill and he manages to get the thing loose. Miracle. Sucker’s bolted to this big square huge metal base, right? Welded, or whatever. So Roger gives lifting it a go, but, big surprise, hollers on down he can’t, thing’s too heavy. I imagine, must of weighed, I don’t know, two, three hundred, minimum.
KMC－Oh my god, they actually did this? The Conrad Cowboy, like,–
JJ－Yup, the one on top the high school. [laughs] So, okay, so, Roger says he can’t lift it and so the rest of these three hyper-dummies climb on up there, without any sort of frickin pulley system or whatever, and so instead, so instead they just push the thing off, least twelve feet, straight into the fucking mud and shit.
KMC－Oh my god.
JJ－So it’s down there now, THE Conrad Cowboy, halfway in the ground, all caked in mud and shit, they yank this sucker out and set the thing right side up, fucking hat’s all busted off and shit, lasso’s bent into a fucking pitchfork, [laughs] and what do these soggy tard-o’s literally frickin forget to bring?
KMC－See, the word literally there, it’s not even [scoffs] it’s not even fucking neccessary, you can just say they frickin FORGOT to BRING the THING and it means the same exact THING you DING-DING. Quit.
JJ－And what do they forget to bring?
KMC－What, lube to get all bestial?
JJ－The streamers! They drove all the way up there, middle the night, climbed up on top the high school, dislodged the fucking inbred red’s cowboy mascot, and they forgot to bring the purple and gold streamers. [laughs]
KMC－Cut Bank colors?
JJ－Yup yup yup. Perfect, perfect frame job, botched. Bam-fuckin-boozled. The whole concept was a stroke of genius, like,–just picture the look on all them Conrad fucker’s faces when they saw that shit, all thinking, all thinking it was Cut Bank and stuff,–that would have started a war over there, and like RIGHT before their homecoming week and shit! [4-5 seconds of coughing] These ultra-goons don’t even got the foresight to bring shit else to deface the thing with, and just out of pure spite, Roger whipped out and pissed all over the horse’s pewter face which he swore actually ended up restoring some of the metalwork’s sheen and then they just left it there.
KMC－You guys are idiots.
JJ－Hey, don’t call me no idiot. I wasn’t part of this. I woulda remembered them streamers.
KMC－Well can you remember which direction I should be going? It’s dark as pits out here, Christ on a cracker. I just passed,–I just passed the Frontage Road.
JJ－Okay, yeah, up there there’s a left. Take that.
JJ－Well, I can’t–
KMC－Okay I’m taking this left. If it’s wrong you’re a fuck.
KMC－Well I just fucking–!
JJ－No, I mean,–it is right.
KMC－So I should have taken a fucking right, you fuck.
JJ－No, the left you took was right!
KMC－How far? Jesus.
JJ－Just keep going. Few miles at least.
[A chorus of cackles can be heard crackling through the background.]
JJ－No one, no. I’m just laughing.
KMC－Whatever, there’s people there. Listening to me lost, huh, you fuck heads?
JJ－No, no one’s listening. I’m laughing.
KMC－How many people are there already?
JJ－Only a couple. Don’t worry, you’re early. We ain’t even cracked open the case yet. We’re just getting the bonfire going.
KMC－What did you guys get?
JJ－What? I don’t see you buying us no booze.
KMC－Well I’m not 21 you dingleberry.
JJ－Well, neither am I. Neither’s none of us. But Roger’s brother is and I know him so–
KMC－Whatever, I’ll drink it.
JJ－Yeah, so shut up.
KMC－You’re a dick. God, it’s dark out here.
JJ－Well, it is the country.
KMC－Don’t the DeLacey’s have a ranch somewhere out here?
JJ－Uh,–no, no, they’re more by the Marias.
KMC－I swear to god if my tires blow out, I’m blaming you.
JJ－Don’t blame me, blame your crappy tires.
KMC－Dude, I’m driving on fucking dirt right now.
JJ－Don’t bitch, it’s only a little ways further. Do you see a bunch of like, a bunch of like fucked up utility poles?
KMC－Yeah, they go all up this.
JJ－Yeah, perfect. You have to get out soon.
KMC－I have to–?
KMC－Are you fucking–, [sighs] okay. This party better curl my eyelashes.
JJ－You better stop soon if you saw them poles. You see our vehicles yet?
KMC－No, I—wait. Wait, okay. Yeah. I can just make out the glint of those cringe-shiver-inducing brass bull testicles hanging from your hitch. Those make you look like a real asshole, Josh.
[A car door slams.]
JJ－I am an asshole. Now,–you see the grain silo?
KMC－No. I can’t see my own hands out here. I can’t see shit. Why didn’t you tell me to bring a flashlight, you fuck?
JJ－Let your eyes adjust. Now,–you see the grain silo?
KMC－Okay, yeah. That’s where this is going down?
JJ－Yup. Whole place is abandoned. We’re–we’re inside this sucker. It’s warm.
[Another round of laughter can be heard in the background.]
KMC－Who puts a grain silo at the ass bottom of a coulee?
JJ－I don’t know. Probably why the owner frickin ditched it. Anyhow, ours now.
KMC－We could have just partied in my basement, you know. My parents don’t care.
JJ－This will be better. Trust me.
KMC－God, it just freaks me out is all. I’d way way rather live in the city than the country. More people. Less—less rabid animals. Well, debatably.
JJ－You know, in the city there’s a 90% greater chance of being struck by a car.
KMC－Yeah, well out here there’s a 90% greater chance of being torn apart by a bloodraged coyote.
JJ－[inaudible] Hey, I’m giving the phone to Roger.
KMC－You’re,–wait, hold up, wait–
RD－[yelling] DUDE,–dude, like, when the fuck are you getting here dude?
KMC－Roger, I’m walking now. What’s with Josh?
RD－Oh, he—he just went to go grab another drink, dude.
KMC－You guys are drinking already?
RD－Well, yeah, dude. Dude. [laughs]
KMC－Okay. God, why did you guys have to pick this place? This coulee is steep as—like, how am I supposed to slide down this?
RD－[laughing] Just slide down it, dude.
KMC－Okay, thank you for the encouragement, Rodge, thank you. Can you please hand the phone back to Josh?
RD－[inaudible] Sorry, dude, he’s drinking. He’ll be here soon.
KMC－Rodger, can I ask you a personal question?
KMC－When your urine was dripping from the Conrad Cowboy’s trusty metallic steed, did it like, at all sort of feel like you were actually pissing on your own face and heritage and all that and all?
KMC－I mean you DID move here from over there in the second grade like and I mean your folks–
RD－Dude, not cool, dude. Where is the love? Gross.
KMC－God, at the bottom of this coulee, I guess. One sec. I’m gonna slide down this mother.
[The shifting of gravel can be heard loudly in the background. There is a scream. 6-7 seconds of silence follows.]
KMC－[yelling] Fuck! Fucking fuck, god, my–oh, my fucking, I–oh, fuck!
RD－What, dude, what’s up?
KMC－I twisted it so fucking,–oh! Fuck, it hurts.
RD－Well, walk it off dude. You’re almost–
KMC－No, I–[groaning]–I can’t. It’s–oh, fuck, it’s bad. My ankle,–it’s bad, Roger.
KMC－I don’t know if it’s broke! I can’t–[screams]–no, I can’t move it.
RD－Okay, okay, okay dude. You’ll be okay. Just stay put. Seriously, just stay where you–
KMC－[yelling] Where I am, Roger? Right where I fucking am, all right, fuck face. You are LITERALLY [inaudible], fuck!
KMC－No, NOT okay, Roger! I’ll be eaten alive by a pack of starved yotes out here for Christ’s sake!
RD－Dude, calm down, dude. Can you stand?
KMC－Fuck, it hurts.
RD－Yo, you need me to send someone out theres to come get you dude? Give you a hand dude? Like, dude.
KMC－God no. Josh will–
RD－Dude he’ll come on out–
KMC－No,–no. No. Hey, tell me, is—is Julia T. there too?
KMC－Fuckity. It’s fine. I’m fine. I got it. I can stand. I can walk on my own. Fucking fuckity.
RD－Right, okay. Sweet, dude. Hey I’m gonna hang up the–
KMC－Wait, wait Roger, don’t do that. Can you stay on with me? I’m freaked out out here is all. It’s fucking dark, and like–
RD－Oh, yeah, no, dude, I get it. Yeah. Completely under—yeah, no, totally, dude. I’ve been sleeping with a nightlight for over a decade now.
RD－Okay dude, talk to you–
RD－[sighs] Dude,—dude, fine.
[Three minutes of dead air follows. Light laughter and the occasional yawp can be heard in the background.]
KMC－Rodge, can I ask you another personal question?
RD－Dude is this gonna be about my–
KMC－No,–no, it’s not. It’s not. It’s Josh.
RD－[laughs] What about him, dude?
KMC－I’m going to break up with him. Tonight.
KMC－Yeah, I know. Not the most terrific timing.
RD－Dude but wait, but wait, why? Dude.
KMC－Here’s what I’ve been rehearsing: Things are so great when we’re together, Josh, really, like, these last seven months have been great, just, really great, and I know you’ve probably like, noticed, over time, and I mean we’ve just been arguing it seems like and the resolutions to our arguments really haven’t been sticking and we’re just, just into such different things, I mean, like, we really don’t have a super ton in common or anything and I feel like I’ve just sort of been afraid to be alone for a while and was really sad about admitting to myself that this just wasn’t working, like really, terribly sad, but it’s just not and in the end it’s just like we’re different, man. We’re different.
RD－Dude, wow, that sounds terrible.
KMC－Fuck, I know. But I don’t know how else to put it, I’m just–!
KMC－Yeah. Not like the way he’s not, but, just,–
KMC－I just can’t do it any longer.
KMC－Do you think he’ll be upset? How much has he been drinking?
[4-5 seconds of silence follows.]
RD－I think he’s gonna be upset, dude.
RD－But, no, dude, I totally get it. He can be tough to be around sometimes. But it ain’t his fault so much. He don’t like how he is either.
KMC－I wish he would see somebody.
RD－Yeah, dude, that ain’t happening.
KMC－I know. He’s embarrassed. But you know about it, too, right? And who else?
RD－And ain’t NOBODY else, dude. And dude, it’s super important that it stays that way. Josh would ultra fucking kill me, dude.
KMC－He’d kill me.
RD－No,—he’d never think you told nobody. He’d think me.
KMC－Whatever. Hey, I’m here, I’m outside. Where is the door at, the hell? I can’t even hear you guys,—what, no tunes? Lame.
[A stake of laughter cuts through the background.]
RD－Dude—yeah dude, it’s—go all the way around. Go all the way. Run your hand along. You’ll—it’s back there.
KMC－God, this fucking ankle, it—whatever. Liquor will help.
[12 seconds of silence follows. The screech of rust.]
KMC－Are you serious, dude?
[A roar of laughter obscures the tape for 6 seconds.]
KMC－Holy, are you—you guys are like,—like the GREASIEST OF DICKHOLES.
KMC－Yeah, can all of you all hear me? You guys all fucking waiting in your cars or something? Fucking DICK-HOLI-OS. I come ALL the way out here, SPRAIN my fucking ANKLE sliding down this SHIT, and nobody’s here. Holy shit, I’m—I’m–
[8 seconds of silence follows.]
KMC－[whispering] Hey, do you—do you hear that?
RD－[laughing] Dude, hear what?
KMC－It’s like—it’s like chains or something.
RD－No shit, dude, it’s an old garbo grain silo. There’s rusty old equipment like, pitchforks and shovels and shit just decorating the place. Windy as all crap too and there’s bunches of rust holes all in that place dude. Dude, come on back to where we parked dude. We’re all waiting. Prank’s over. We want McDoobles! Mc-Doo-bles! C’mon, Mc-Doo-bles! C’mon!
KMC－[hissing] Rodger, shut up, shh—shut the fuck up, will you? Listen—do you hear that? Oh my god. Oh god.
RD－Dude, chill, it’s–
KMC－[whispering] No,—Roger, I can—those chains. Someone’s in here. I’m alone. Oh god. Roger, tell Josh, god. Please help.
[The tape is muffled for 8 seconds.]
RD－Dude, are you okay?
[Light laughter can be heard in the background.]
KMC－Hello, sir? Hello, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for trespassing, sir. Sir? I’m sorry. I’m going to—sir? [whispering] He’s coming for me. He’s got a hooked chain. His face—oh god—white. [screaming] He’s coming. He’s coming, help! Help! Please! Help me! Somebody help me! Help!
[More raucous laughter can be heard in the background.]
KMC－[screaming] Help me! Please, help me! I can’t move! Please help! Help!
[There is another scream. The tape is muffled for the following 4 seconds. An audible thud follows. A brief pocket of white noise.]
RD－[laughing] We got you! We got you so fucking good, dude! Fuck! I’m dying! Peter, is that camera on? Is that thing still going? Oh, yes! Yes! Dude! We got you so so good, dude! Josh! Dude, I swear to Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus it was all completely his idea, it was Josh’s! The chains and facepaint and all! He knew you’d freak! I’m dying! Oh my god dude! We got you so fucking good! Put Josh on!
[5-6 seconds of silence follows.]
KMC－Oh my god–! It’s–[screams]–oh, god!
RD－[laughing] We got you! We got you so fucking good, dude! Put Josh on! I gotta hear his reaction to this shit! This is priceless! I’m dying! You really thought,–dude, we got you dude. We got you so fucking good. The Internet is going to love this. Put Josh on.
KMC－He’s—oh god, he won’t move! You fucking idiots! I was so–I just grabbed this, this stone and–
RD－Christ, dude, did you–?
KMC－And I just swung, he–Josh!–Josh!–he won’t move! He’s bleeding. He’s bleeding from the head, he won’t—. Roger, he’s–
RD－It was a fucking joke, dude, Jesus! It was only a fucking joke!