On a cold midnight shift in about 2004 or 2005 I came across the idea to write up a story. Binder and Smirnoff was born. It has nothing to do with the quit, just a tale of two buddies. Enjoy. Or don't, I don't care.
Binder and Smirnoff
Randy Binder was a good man. Good man meaning he stayed out of prison most of the time, (that is about it). His father was a coal miner in northern Minnesota, and owned several pet-grooming businesses in and around St. Paul. Randy's father taught him at an early age what was right and what was wrong. Some of this soaked in and some didn't. Randy's mother was a part-time cashier at a local Shell station, part-time cab driver, part-time librarian, part-time locksmith, part-time chimney sweeper, part-time call girl and a full-time waitress at Big Jims (the best damn catfish north of twin cities.) Randy's mother brought home around $1.5 million a year, and his dad boozed most of that away by October. Randy knew that if he had a chance in this world, he either needed to become a professional wrestler, a logger, or a mail man up in Canada. Growing up was hard, so hard in fact, that Randy took a job cleaning the floors at a peep-show at the early age of 8. At 8 years old, a boy doesn't really know what's going on, but he figured it out one day. An old feller named Wilksberg got pulled out of the booth by a husky man who worked for the federal prison system. It turns out Wilksberg was on parole, and this kind of establishment was against his release conditions. Since there was still 30 seconds on the timer in the booth, little Randy decided to take a gander at what seemed to be so popular. What Randy saw was a tangled up mess of naked women, rabid dogs, a little donkey, and a guy dressed up like Roy Rogers. This scared little Randy and he remained a virgin until the ripe age of 28. He worked mostly odd jobs. He once cleaned billboards along the interstate for $4 an hour, and even learned to be one of the guys who drove a shit truck. You know the kind, the trucks that suck the shit out of the port-a-johns. Randy really liked this job. "I see a lot of fine ladies at the fair grounds," he said each morning when his mother told him that he needed to quit that stinky job. He did meet plenty of women though, and even met Janice there. Janice was, well let's say plump to say the least. Ok, Janice was a good 325, maybe 350. No, seriously, even with her two amputated legs, she was still well over a triple. For the first three years of their marriage, Randy didn't know Janice was in a wheelchair, he just thought she was very short, since the wheelchair couldn't be seen under all the body rolls and clothing. Janice made Randy quit the crapper job, and move into town to become a dog catcher. One day on the job Randy got worried that his life was over, and up and moved to Great Falls Montana, on his lunch break. Just outside of Mandan North Dakota, he ran into Peter Smirnoff, and it changed his life forever.
Peter Smirnoff was a German-born, Arabian-looking, Spanish-speaking, South American-looking Russian that had blood lines all around. His father was a captain in the French army back in WWII, and his mother was a crab boat deck hand off the coast of Alaska, need I say more. Peter's birth was an accident, in fact, Peter was in a foster home at the age of 3 weeks. Ok, Peter was not, his mother left him there when she went out to sea for months on end. Peter's father died early in the war, not before donating DNA samples to thousands, if not tens of thousands of underage girls along the front. Peter's father is the sole reason for the baby boomer population of today. This shocked Peter when he found this out last November, because he had married three of his sisters in his life, and slept with nine others. Thankfully no children were born of these ignorant kissing and banging siblings. Peter's whole goal in life was to marry Kristy Thornton of Great Falls Montana as she was the only girl his age in America that he wasn't related to. He set out on the journey of all journeys......actually no, he lived in Kalispell, so it was only a 4 hour drive. Following a snow plow on the trip, Peter decided it was safe to only stop when the plow driver did. The plow driver apparently had a urination device, because Peter pissed himself. Peter pissing himself has nothing to do with this story, but it is funny. Peter pissed through his pants, into the seat cushion, onto the floor, and into the back seat. Some of his piss worked its way out the door crack and froze, making it hard to open the door. The car still smells like urine. The plow driver threw snow so high to the right that the Great Falls sign was covered up, and they drove and drove, smelling like piss. The "welcome to North Dakota" sign made Peter chuckle..."those kids and their pranks." So it came to be that his life would forever change when he hit that off ramp in Mandan.
..."Sure, I can drive, I have half a tank left. That should get us to Canadian border right?" Randy said to Peter over coffee. Peter and Randy met up at the gas station when they happened to meet in Mandan. They talked to one another for nearly an hour telling their stories and so on. Both depressed, they decided that they would be good friends and wanted to go to northern Canada, where Randy's wife would never find them (wheelchairs don't do too well in the ice and snow). They sold Peter's car to a used car lot for $400 and bought a .44, some ammo a bag of weed and lunch. "damn, I knew we should've gotten gas! Oh well" said Peter. They hit the trail, headed north about noon that day. Sometime about 12:02 the fuel pump went out of the car and thy pulled over. "hmm, I think we got a flat tire Peter, go fix it" said Randy as he stomped his foot to the Spice Girls playing on the radio. Peter, knowing a thing or two about cars, knew it was the pump, and looked around the car for some jerry-rigging supplies. After finding a coat hanger, some belly-button lint, an mm and some toothpaste, Peter got the fuel pump working just like new again. They were on the their way, and before the night was over, they had an audio book of War and Peace, and Charlie Daniels Band greatest hits, a serious road trip.
"Antler ND 32 miles" read the sign. "You know that means Canadian border is about 34 miles right?" asked Randy. "What should we do with the gun?" Peter gave a smart looking grin, "these Canadians can find a little tiny piece of anything in the gas tank of in the fabric of the seats. We will put the gun on the dash and the ammo on the seat." Worried, but willing, Randy placed the items where Peter said to.
"Whoa there, where you headin' to there?" asked the border officer. "Smoking Tent or Erwood, sir," said Peter, who was now driving. "Do you guys there have any funs there, or ammo there, there?" The officer looked right at the gun, and Randy said "no sir, just luggage." The officer tore through the luggage, the gas tank, the glove box, sent a dog under the car, uninflated the tires, and even looked in the seats. "ok, there, you have a good day there, and remember, up toward Swan River they got about 5 foot of snow, this Taurus wont make it there. There, have a good trip there." "I told you, that is the oldest trick in the book. I have been to Canada a zillion times, could have brought the whole army here one piece at a time on the dash board, " said Peter who was feeling pretty good about his luck, since he had never been to Canada.
At Virden, the two traded the car for a '78 Dodge pickup with 375,000 miles on it. The attendant who sold it warned "it gets 8 miles to a gallon on gas and 3 miles per quart on oil." The pickup did well, and since the guys were drinking Schlit's by the gallon, about the time to take a piss, the Dodge needed oil again. All was going great until they hit the jct at hwy 264, because that isn't all they hit. Randy was driving, Peter was singing proud to be an American out the window and the two of them used more Schlitz than gas so far. The moose wasn't in a hurry to cross the road. She did cross, and when the Didge hit her, Randy was going about 95 miles per hour. Peter took a hoof to the shoulder, but lived to finish out this story. Randy was ejected from the car and landed on a bow of pine needles. "Are you ok Peter?" yelled Randy who was worried since the truck was on fire, and all the empty Schlitz cans were popping like mini explosions. "I am good, but I can't get the Lee Greenwood tape out!" Peter yelled from inside the inferno. "get out dipshit! forget the tape!" Randy somewhat liked his new friend, but hey, that is hot over there, screw pulling him from the fire. After more yelling, Peter finally got out of the fire. Peter was a burned mess of a human. He was no longer holding the appearance of a human, actually. He looked like an animal that doesn't get completely burned in a forest fire. "Now what Randy! We aren't go no wheels!" Peter managed to yell. Randy thought this was funny and said "We are close to Erwood man." Peter said "what do you care, it's over anyway. I will die soon. I'm glad you continued to drink beer and clip your fingernails while I was in the fire." Peter was very angry at Randy, and had to keep pulling the skin up on his right hand like a glove. "Piss on it, I'm leaving," said Peter. "That is it Peter! You actually are smart!" Peter seemed confused, and was still smoking from the fire. "You said piss on it. we both haven't pissed since Russell, we might be able to piss a hole in the snow and ice and make a house....or even a fort!!!!" Said Randy who was not kind of grossed out by Peter's burned face and body.
The two pissed and drank, pissed and drank, and pissed and drank. About 9am they slid down into the piss hold and looked around. It seems that their piss tunneled into an underground cavern. "I will go get the moose," said Randy as he ran up to the crash site. The guys dragged the moose by the tail into their fort and cooked and ate it. They are in all that day, don't ask me how. The next morning while walking the cavern, Peter discovered gold, which he buried. He did this because he didn't want Randy to see it. It was when he returned to the piss fort entrance to kill Randy that he found a note. The note read: Peter, I went to hunt moose. Be back before first thaw..Randy." That was a weird note in peter's mind. Why would he hunt moose when there was little deer and bears running around the fort?
While hunting, Randy became mighty thirsty, and headed back to the fort. When he arrived, Peter had made a bag out of moose hide and was toting 200 pounds of gold across the road. "what's in the bag?" asked Randy. Peter looked at him with the one eye that hadn't burned all the way. "gold. GOLD Randy! and it's all mine!" Peter ran into the ditch when one of his legs finally gave out. You see, his legs were charred so bad and clear to the bone, and they finally gave way and broke off. Randy drug him back into the piss fort and poured Schlitz on peter's nubs. They lived off of pine cones and deer the rest of the winter. By spring Peter was healing ok. He could not walk, talk, more or do anything but drink and eat what randy put in his mouth. Randy knew this, and made Peter go on diets sometimes. He also had to move him every 2 or 3 weeks, because all of his piss and shit would start melting the snow.
Randy tried to kill Peter but he was so burned in the fire, when Randy shot him, it was hard to hit anything. He figured a head shot would do him in, but the damn thing went right through and into the wall. Peter just looked up at Randy with a sad look every time he was shot. For Christmas, Randy took Peter out to get fresh air. He hung him from a tree branch by his arm and went into town for beer. When he returned, he found a grizzly bear eating Peter's good arm and scared the bear off with a warning shot. Peter now was an inch from death, so Randy left him out in the cold that night. Surprisingly, in the morning, he awoke to find Peter in the fort, chewing on Randy's shoe. "Are you hungry boy?" he asked. Randy got some fat and bones out of the trash/toilet, and stuck them on the ground in front of Peter. Little episodes like this happened all winter long.
On the 4th of July (not a big Canadian Holiday) Randy took the now armless and legless Peter to a strip joint in town. He took a dancer gunpoint and told her to sleep with Peter. Peter never seemed happier. Peter, who was ate up completely with infection, did not know that the dancer was another of his sisters. Randy laughed all the way home, and made fun of Peter for banging another sister. He then rolled the windows up and farted.
Early in the fall Randy cleaned up Peter's limbs and found that there were little nubs on each of them. He crafted little legs, out of deer legs, and got them attached to Peter's little nubs. It only took about a month for Peter to learn to walk on them. Randy taught him to run, to forage for berries grasses. One day in late November, he let Peter go for a run alone. 7 shots were heard from down in the piss hole. Randy laughed, Peter was still mostly bullet proof like before. Peter would always come back, a few more holes in his leather like flesh. One morning after a fight over who gets the gun, Randy tied a pair of antlers on Peter and locked him out of the piss hole. Later that afternoon, Randy went to look for his friend and found a buck mounting a doe. When he got closer, he realized the buck was actually Peter, and the doe wasn't a doe at all. The doe was Kristy Thornton, remember the gal that Peter wasn't related to. Ironically, Kristy and her friend had the exact same series of events happen to them, and now she is the animal looking, bullet proof one. Randy went to the piss-hole and was going to shoot himself, but there was no ammo, so he hitchhiked into town and moved to Killeen Texas and became a plumber.
Peter was shot, killed, mounted and eaten only a mile from where he finally found his love. Kristy's father shot him, and got a ticket by the Canadian police for shooting an animal after dark. Kristy later had a litter of fawns in the spring. They all died.
Peter's mother still runs a crab boat in Alaska to this day, though she suffers from TypeII Diabetes.
