rSlash - r/Storiesaboutkevin Kevin Escaped the Cops & Wrestled a Crocodile

Episode Date: May 22, 2023

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I'm gonna tell you guys a stupid story, and I'm gonna tell it just the way I remember it. Yes, it's about Kevin, but I'm not gonna spare myself here either. I used to be a moron too. I don't have much of a defense except that I'm from Florida and this took place there. Maybe that's all the defense I need, I don't know. This story happened during and because of my employment at Radio Shack. If you didn't already know, RadioShack workers used to be the absolute effing party animals back in the day.

I tell you this because no one out there seems to understand just how hard a nerd can go and because it's germane to the story. So yeah, I was working at a RadioShack in South Florida and we had just completed our inventory. Anyone who works in retail knows just how awful, entitious, and freakishly time-consuming an inventory can be. Since this happened back in the 1990s before QR codes and phasers came about, we had to find, count, and record each resistor,

transformer, and capacitor. We had to count every effing item in the whole store by hand with nothing but pen and paper. And boy, did Radio Shack have a lot of tiny parts. It was mind-numbingly dull, and the process took several days to complete. This was also back when the movie Titanic came out, and the company had some kind of eldritch corporate partnership,

which required us to play that abominable song on repeat all damn day. You know the one, don't make me say it. Naturally, out of self-preservation and sheer desperation, many of us employees resorted to unholy amounts of drugs and alcohol. Okay, I need to pause the story for a second so I can ask you guys a question. Have you ever had someone's side up to you? Like, actually crabwalk sideways and then kind of slide the last two steps up to you? Well, if you haven't, let me tell you that it's just as weird and off-putting as you're imagining.

I bring this up only because that's the thing that I think about whenever someone mentions Kevin. For story purposes, you think about whenever someone mentions Kevin. For story purposes, you guys should know something about Kevin. I can't type enough characters on this subreddit to do his existence justice, so I'll give you a basic synopsis. This guy was something else. I'll qualify that statement by saying that he once got stranded for four years in Brazil after a falling out with his prison pin-pow girlfriend. And before you ask why a Brazilian would write to an American inmate, I'll explain that he wasn't the ex-con.

She was. He found her through the back pages of some magazine. The story of how Kevin learned about long distance telephone charges goes here, but I'll save that tale for another time. When this girl finally kicked him out of her house, something to do with identity theft, smuggling, and exotic parrots. Kevin attempted to force the American government to send his broke butt back to the US by literally lying on the street outside the US Embassy and wailing like a banshee on bath salts. As you can see, Kevin wasn't

the sharpest of tax. So back to the story. It was around 10pm and we just finished reconciling the inventory accounts for the last time. Done! Finally! While it did turn out to be an excellent inventory, it was particularly long and grueling, and we were all exhausted and angry by the end of it. My boss, being awesome, decided to celebrate by picking up a bunch of beers and pizzas and inviting us all back to his house. This is technically where the actual story starts, because this is when Kevin's cidled up to me in the parking lot and asked me if I wanted to go with him real quick to pick up a bag of coke. I guess that I'm not the sharpest of tax either because

I agreed to go. I had a car but Kevin insisted on driving. This was a problem because Kevin drove a busted 1976 Lincoln Continental. It was probably a beautiful example of American automotive engineering in its day, with its original deep dark green paint job and flippy headlights. But now, it was decrepit. The seats were sticky where they weren't threadbare, and the exterior was a veritable museum of failed cosmetic repairs. This thing was covered in primer, missing all but one of its hubcaps, and the glove box oozed some vial amalgamation of spilled coffee and shea butter,

because you see, Kevin had a skin condition. The car smelled just awful, like a dead squirrel filled with old arbys and whipped cream, and then left a rod in the tropical sun. If I'm being honest here, I'd rather appreciate the smell of Shea butter and coffee. In that car, the ooze was a feature. Standing there in the pale, washed out light of the radio shack sign, I weighed my options and made my decision. I laid an old hoodies strategically over the passenger seat and climbed in. After all, free drugs was worth a bit of hardship, right? Wrong.

After a surprisingly uneventful drive, we got to his friend's place. He went inside, and when he came out, he was bouncing an arm with a huge eight ball. This guy really did him right. The very sight of this thing made me super excited to get back to my boss's house so we could get down to some serious hoovering. Kevin put the car in gear and began to talk. I was ignoring his conversation, absorbed in my own thoughts, when all of a sudden Kevin hit a trash can.

Because I wasn't sure if the hit was intentional, I glanced over. Uh oh. Kevin was bent over, sweating and bug-eyed, fidgeting with the radio and simultaneously glancing back and forth between the rear-view mirror and the side mirrors. Worried, I sat in watchful silent as he navigated his way out of the neighborhood. His conversation never faltered, even after we dinged a mailbox. Damn. With a sinking feeling, I realized that Kevin was already way high. It was now around 11.30 pm and traffic had begun thinning out. His driving had deteriorated exponentially since leaving his friends place, and I was only just then coming to terms with the fact that this reward, fat though it was,

might not be worth the imminent disaster that I could see barreling down upon me. I knew that this night was going to end badly. Something was going to happen. Something bad. My mind raced. We've got drugs. Kevin is driving. Kevin is driving this car.

Oh no. This vehicle is obviously held together by a combination of prayer, spray foam, and bondo. Also, he's got no registration and an expired license. I know all this because Kevin told me after we left with the Coke. Kevin told me a lot of things during that drive. He answered a lot of questions about himself that I never asked. In fact, Kevin was so deep in cocaine conversation that he missed a critical turn on the main highway. Upon realizing that he missed this turn, he waited for the next intersection.

And despite my desperate protestations, immediately cut across three lanes of traffic and slung that huge boat of a car around in a U-turn. While rather graceful, the move was illegal, and there was an unmarked cop car behind us. Oh, I freaked out. Then, when the cop lit up his lights, I freaked out again. This time out loud, you effing moron, I yelled. Kevin pulled over, except Kevin didn't pull over to his right, like normal people do. No, he pulled over to his left into a turn lane. like normal people do. No, he pulled over to his left into a turn lane. The cop pulled up behind us and waited, probably confused. I think it was this confusion that saved me. I say me instead of we, because at this moment Kevin decided that he had an all-under control.

If I remember the sequence of events correctly, and I will never forget what I witnessed in those few moments. Haha, Kevin winked at me, and then proceeded to pull the coke bag out of his pocket, and empty it into his mouth. Then he started chewing! I should tell you that this was a solid 3.7 grams of yellow-flake cocaine. Hard as a rock and uncut. It was huge! I sat odd and mesmerized at the scene unfolding before me. The red and blue lights flashing into the interior of the car made the whole thing even more surreal. All I could think was, oh my god, he's eating it, he's eating it, he's eating a whole

eight ball of blow. Wait, wait, he's the driver. Insanly frightened and struggling to overpower the creeping sense of horror shivering up my spine, I screamed at him. Something along the lines of, what the f? What are you doing, you f'ing idiots? And that's the exact moment when Kevin realized that he had royally screwed up. Generally, when someone gets pulled over by the cops, they expect to... they expect a coherent response, even in South Florida. Kevin flung the car door open and dashed into the night. I can only imagine the

consternation of the police officer behind us as Kevin abandoned his car and bounded away into the neighborhood. I sat frozen in the passenger seat, amazed and stunned, as this cop car behind me disengaged and took off down the side street after him. To this day, I don't know if there was only one officer in that police car, or if they were operating under some sort of regulation that made a driver more important than a passenger.

Metrolinx and Crosslininks are reminding everyone to be careful as Eglinton Cross-town LRT train testing is in progress. Please be alert, this trains can pass at any time on the tracks. Remember to follow all traffic signals. Be careful along our tracks and only make left turns where it's safe to do so. Be alert, be aware, and stay safe. These side marios all you can eat is all you can munch a soup, sell it, and gollic homo. It might have been that I was a small chick in a huge car and was therefore camouflaged against the sea.

I just don't know. All I do, all I do, all I do know is that Kevin was gone, the cop was gone, and I was sitting in a running vehicle in the middle of the road. Yeah, I took off. I'm sorry, I got to stop real quick. The reason why I'm giggling the reason why I'm laughing so much is I got the sudden mental image of the cops coming up to Kevin and Kevin rolling down the window and saying, what seems to be the problem officer while his mouth is coated in cocaine and every time he talks a puff of cocaine comes out of his mouth. Oh man, okay, okay focus, our slash focus.

And what I can only describe as a semi-fuged state, I drove Kevin's car back to the radio shack. After dropping off his car and getting mine, I drove to my boss's place determined to get my fair share of pizza and beer in recompense for this fiasco of a night, and also to tell my boss that he would have to open the store tomorrow because Kevin most likely wasn't going to make it on time. I was re-caling everyone with the story of just why he wouldn't make it when the front door banged open and Kevin stumbled in.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that it was like one of those old West saloon scenes. You know, the ones were the whole place quiet when the hero enters, just like that, except instead of a hero gliding, it was Kevin flopping. He was completely out of breath and his shirt was missing. His exposed torso and arms were criss-crossed with deep scratches and abrasions. He'd look like he'd been in a fight for his life. We almost had been staring at him in silent astonishment. I know that I was, Kevin squ- Squished into the room and collapsed wetly into a chair. In a garbled voice, he asked me if I had his car keys. And then, relieved with my answer, he motioned for a beer. Turns out that he did manage to successfully obey the cops that night.

At that moment, he found a drainage canal and just jumped in. Fortunately, this saved him from the arrest, but unfortunately, he wasn't alone in that canal. Oh my god. According to Kevin, an alligator chased him through a bunch of thorny brush out of the water and then up into a yard. He said that he was terrified almost to death but couldn't scream for help because his mouth was frozen from the coke. He said that he barely

escaped with his life. Now, when it comes to the last part of the story, I don't know how much of it is actually true. However, I do know that I saw this man literally chow down on close to 4 grams of rocked up pure Peruvian marching powder before freaking swallowing it. Then I saw that same dude obeyed the cops by banishing into the dark like some kind of overweight Hungarian Zoro before reappearing triumphant and unscathed hours later. Based on this, I choose to believe him about the alligator. Either way, it was a night to remember. And that, my friends, is the stupid story of Kevin and the Coke. I'm sorry you had to read this.

Okay, I'm not much of a cocaine user, which is to say I've never had cocaine in my life, so I had to look up some of these terms. An 8 ball of cocaine is equal to 3.5 grams of cocaine. Opie said the 8 ball was huge, so let's say it was probably about 4 to 5 grams of cocaine. According to Google, a lethal amount of cocaine is 1.5 grams. So I have to imagine that a lot of that cocaine never actually made it into Kevin's system, either because he missed when he was just stuffing the powder into his face. Or maybe he threw up because his body was crazily overdosing and is like, wow, this is a lot of cocaine, you're gonna die.

So he vomited at some point during running. Also, OP says that he's really big, so maybe his body can handle more cocaine than normal. But what Kevin accomplished here defies all physical limitations of the human spirits? Who knows, maybe during his life or death struggle with the alligator, the cocaine fueled him and gave him some sort of superhero strength that allowed him to burn off the cocaine more quickly in his fight with the alligator. Also for those of you who are not American and you don't know too much about the stereotypes of various states, let me tell you, this is the most Florida story I have ever read in

my life. Also let me just say real quick that I've looked through the comments to try to see if OP answered how Kevin managed to get back from Brazil, but unfortunately I couldn't find anything. I think it's all, I think it's safe to assume that Kevin must have somehow made connections with Brazilian drug lords and gotten them to take him back home. Because obviously, that would explain how he got this cocaine hookup, right? Also, OP, let me just say, you are a fantastic writer.

This is probably the best written post in all of 2023. So thank you for sharing this story with us. Our next Reddit post is from Unlikely Alternative. I used to work with a guy named Kevin who was convinced that he could speak every language in the world. He was always bragging about how he could converse with anyone in their native tongue no matter where they were from. One day, we were at a work event and a group of foreign colleagues came to visit. Kevin immediately jumped up

and started speaking to them in what he claimed was their language. But the look of confusion on their faces told a different story. It turned out that Kevin had just been speaking gibberish, mixing random words and sounds together in a bizarre attempt to speaking their language. He had no idea what he was saying, but he was convinced that he was impressing them. To make matters worse, Kevin started insisting that the foreigners were the ones who didn't understand their own language properly. He even tried to correct them on their pronunciation and grammar. Needless to say, the rest of us were cringing and trying to distance ourselves from Kevin's embarrassing behavior. It was hard to believe that someone could be so clueless and yet

so confident at the same time. From then on, Kevin's delusions of linguistic grandeur became a running joke among our team. But we also learned to be more careful when taking him at his word when it came to anything else. Our next reddit post is from Pretty Novel. So, I have a friend who's kind of a Kevin. He's super nice and a really good person, but he can be a Kevin. He once nearly burned his apartment down because he made a fire in the fireplace. He also likes to play pranks.

Not unfunny mean pranks, but fun lighthearted pranks. Like putting onion powder on hostess donuts and giving us them or giving us water with lime juice in it. A little while ago, me and some friends were at Kevin's house for video games. On the coffee table, there was a bowl of skittles. Seems innocent enough, right? Well, Kevin decided that it would be fun to mix immonims into the bowl. Just a fun little joke, right? Well, Kevin decided that it would be fun to mix immanims into the bowl. Just a fun little joke, right? Well, one of my friends is allergic to peanuts, and Kevin's favorite

ones are the peanut immanims. Kevin forgot that she was allergic, as it hasn't come up super often. Long story short, before we know there are immanims mixed into the bowl, that friend eats a handful and goes into anaphylactic shock. They ended up going to the hospital. Kevin has since apologized profusely. He was so upset at himself for this, and is helping pay for the medical bills as an apology. So yeah, I guess the moral is don't pull food pranks on people with allergies. That was our slash stories about Kevin, and

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