Driving crazily through the backwoods of a Tennessee highway, Joe and Carl are having the time of their lives in their ’91 Chevy S-10.
“Built Ford tuff motha fuckas!!” Joe shouts out of the passenger window, can of Natty Ice in hand.
“Joe, this here’s a damn Chev Ro Lay!” Carl asserts, punching his sidekick in the thigh.
“Aw hell Carl, what’s tha dang difference? They’re both good enough for catchin’ them naggers! Yeeeeeehaw!” Joe shouts again, leaning his head out the window. “Boy oh boy oh boy I can’t wait to show the rest of the fellas these here torches we got stowed away! We’re gonna light up the en-tire place!”
“Say, Joe, that reminds me.” Carl says, scratching his head with his right hand, pulling it off the clutch. “Whereabouts is this rally anyhow?”
“Dammit Carl!” Joe responds, sipping his crisp, delicious Natural Ice. “We’re going to tha damn mayor’s mansion! Can’t believe this stupid ass town voted one of them naggers in.”
“That’s right.” Carl says, cracking open his own brew, raising it out of the window as if he we’re toasting the Nazi Gods of yesteryear.
“Well she-it! Lookie there. We made it!” Carl shouts.
In front of the rickety ass S-10 that the duo is driving, there is a circle of about 15 or 20 white cloth laden, horse-backed Klan members.
“Quick!” Carl says to Joe, seeing the Klan members who are obviously waiting on them. “Put ur damn hood on!”
In a fury of flailing arms and gritting teeth, the pair don their meticulously carved white KKK hoods, perfectly complimenting their long, white robes.
Bursting out of the passenger’s side door, Klansman Joe approaches the back of the nasty truck to grab his newly acquired tiki torch. Fidgeting for a moment as he tried to light his steel lighter, he finally ignites the tip, which casts a light strong enough to….mimic a firefly.
“WOOOOHOOOO MOTHA FUCKAS!!!! LETS GO GIT US SOME NAGGERS!!!!!!” Joe screams, waving his tiki torch in a fit of frenzy. “Betchall ain’t got torches like THIS!” He shouts, circling about the group of Klansmen on his own horse that he’s just saddled.
As the entire group looks at Joe in curiosity, one slams his torch down.
“Well SHE-IT!” He yells. “Joe, git your ass over here!”
Wondering why Brad would request such, Joe gallops his horse over.
“Lemme see that there damn torch.” Brad says, squinting his eyes behind his white hood.
“Well slap me silly and tickle me Elmo! I’ll be gat damned!!” Brad shouts after seeing the tiny Wal-Smart price tag on the torch. “These boys got them some tiki torches too!”
“YEEEHAW!!!” The entire group shouts together.
As the group begins to realize that they all had the same brilliant idea of buying their torches at the local Wal-Smart, their morale reaches new heights.
“AYEAYEAYEAYEAYEYAYEAYE!!!” They all shout and chant, horses galloping in a chaotic mess of bigoted hilarity.
“Let’s do this boy-os!!” Brad shouts, pausing for a moment to adjust the hood that his wife had just cut that afternoon. “To the mayor’s!!!!”