What is a Juggalo?- Any SCRIPT Will Do

Where’s the Cream Filling?

So, I moved my stuff out of the town slut’s place, and into the trailer of the guy in town. I felt truly stranded being so far out of town without a car.

I split my time between job hunting and keeping house. It wasn’t very long before I got a waitressing gig at a little diner/bar on the main street. There were a lot of things I wasn’t allowed to do, or go there, unless they felt like telling me to anyhow. It was an autistic nightmare.

I wasn’t allowed to go into the bar, but that’s where the drinks were. That was the only dispenser for the fountain drinks, so I had to go behind the bar, but “just to fill drinks.”

Except they’d also get mad at me if I hesitated to take food into the bar that I wasn’t allowed to go into. I would try to pop in and out as quick as possible, and then some old codger on a stool would say something like “Well, where are you in such a hurry to get to, Sugar?” obviously enjoying that I was too young to be there.

The tips were absolute crap, but at least it was a little bit of cash money in my pocket and I desperately needed that. They only had me working lunches so that left me plenty of time for other endeavors.

The best part is that the diner was just a few blocks away from the trailer I was staying in. (Let’s call the guy Twinkie, so it doesn’t get cumbersome. So, Twinkie’s trailer…).

Twinkie was a carpenter, and he was actually really into Jesus. We spent a lot of time talking about theology, and he definitely had opinions on sin and salvation, but somehow those opinions were not major players when he wanted to cum. It was a bizarre contradiction, but I wasn’t there to judge. I told the town I was Baptist, and here I was shagging and shacking up with a dad in a custody battle for two girls.

Believe it or not, I got along with his daughters really well. I’m a good listener, and I’m empathetic, and most people are starved for that. The older daughter felt like she was always in trouble and her mom was on a lot of drugs, and she frequently felt unsafe. The younger daughter seemed less aware of how unsafe the situation was. They both started hanging out at Twinkie’s trailer more after I got there, and they both told me thanks for making if feel less chaotic.

Apparently, before me there was just an endless stream of teens/young adults in and out, because there were no rules. The no rules thing blew my mind. I knew friends who had similar power dynamics in their situations, but I’d never really gotten to see what “no rules” looks like from the inside. There hadn’t really been any rules when I lived with my choir friend but there were no parents there. There was supposed to be a parent here. Much different.

Kids need structure to feel safe.

After I got there, the vast majority took a break from coming over. That was definitely my fault, but sometimes the joke is worth it. On my first night there, when his daughters were NOT at the trailer, he and I had retired to his room, which was only separated from the main living space by half of a wall; the top of the wall was open and he had no door. (I mentioned that he was a carpenter. He was also fixing up his trailer and had a grand vision for it. He also used his living room as a workshop.)

I guess I was surprised that nobody left when we were clearly heading in to his room for adult leisure. There were even the occasional taunts from the other room, which really didn’t phase me much. I’d been involved in plenty of dare games with groups of my peers. For me, sex and hanging out went hand in hand.

Everyone knew that Twinkie had had a vasectomy, so there was quite the uproar of laughter when, after a time of considerable effort I shouted out, “Hey! Where’s the cream filling?!?”

There were far fewer people coming over after that, and as much as I wanted to have my autonomy and be out in the real world with people, it was pretty overstimulating, and I really did prefer a more family-oriented feel.

I would come home from work, and then go to the kitchen to cook dinner. His kitchen was not overly stocked, but I appreciated being allowed to eat from the food he did have.

The town of Pinedale had a Hunters for the Hungry program in place, so he did had several chubs of ground elk and antelope in the freezer. I was able to find my way around enough to find the pan that was big enough and easiest to clean, the knife that was the least dull, and a slotted spoon that was only partially melted.

There was no cutting board, so I just used a plate. Meat + canned vegetables + pasta or rice = dinner if you have seasonings. He had lots of canned vegetables, and egg noodles.

Somehow, it all tasted amazing, and you could tell he was looking forward to dinner when he got home in the evenings.

Meeting My First Juggalo

One of the few people who continued to come hang out at the house was actually a pretty smart guy who was 19. We’re going to call him Juggalo, because he introduced me to ICP which I had never ever heard before. The Great Milenko had just come out, and he was very excited to be on possession of it. (The week I got to Pinedale, the entire town was abuzz because they just got their first radio station, and that radio station played the same 7 CDs endlessly.)

I was intrigued to say the least. The Baptist that I told everyone that I was should definitely have a problem with it. My mom would have shat herself it I’d ever played anything like this in the house. It didn’t take much for him to convince me to keep an open mind and just listen.

It was so fun, and we had a blast singing along, and acting the clown. It felt amazing to be included, to have people want to share things with me. Juggalo and I spent considerable time talking about the secrets of the universe, as we saw them.

I loved opening my mind to consider more than the sheltered little dungeon that had become my life. I wanted to experience everything. I wanted to understand things from the inside. I wanted to live free from judgement, and deeply connected.

Juggalo wanted to get the hell out of Pinedale. He grew up there, and he was a stuck there as I had been in Colorado. Lucky for him, I knew a guy with a truck that was about to get out of jail and just happened to need a driver to get back to Colorado.

Who would believe the luck?