Way of the Road presents: Road Chode

Old Dutman was barrellin down Highway 26 one smoky night, George Noory just a blastin away on your AM dial, revealin all the secrets of the alien reptilian NWO green eyed ladies, ocean ladies. Little Sugarloaf for ya there, boys.

Down old Highway 26 he did ride, swayin in the wind w a hot load of freight. Boy, that van was full of cereal and instant pancakes, and enough powdered milk to kill any horse all the way from Chickasaw Mountain to Kennesaw County.

Whats that on up ahead, Dut said to Squiggles, a stuffed toy calico cat Dut picked up on his travels in a burn barrel behind a Maryland rest stop, and became a great and trusted friend of the road.

Ol Squiggles squinted his fake eyes and said in his Cockney accent, “Another round of Yellow Jackets, Guvnuh?”

Ol Dutman bein the trucker of choice for all freighthaulers east of Crackton, he said Dont mind if I do, sir, And he tore open another 2 pack of the gas station energy pills and gobbled em on down.

As his pupils dialated and his heart screamed for mercy, Dut slowed the diesel down and pulled over. A malformed balding man w a great ass hobbled to the passenger door. Dut eagerly welcomed a new friend of the road. “My name is Jage, good buddy, Im trying to get to Nigton.” “Aww, good buddy, you missed Nigton, you gotta go through Crackton to get to Nigton.” “But i know i made a left at Chickasaw Mountain, shucks, I sure am glad you picked me up, i sure could use a nice rubbin’.” “Whats that you say there, boy?”

“Let you tell you somethin, mister, this a-here is your lucky day. Not only are you haulin a sweet load of dry groceries but you got yourself a certified Road Chode.”

“A do-what, now, you say?”

“Yes indeedy, i am the original Road Chode and I am here to grant you one truckin’ wish.”

By golly, ol Dut was a thinkin so hard he nearly turned that Johnny into a hot pile of fuselage.

“For one good rub of this here deformation, I can make a truckin dream come alive right here tonight.”

Dut had heard the stories of the Road Chodes, an ancient sect of chodes that traversed the interstate systems of this here great land exchanging wishes for sweet rides all over Kennesaw County.

“Alrighty, Road Chode, lets see that thing, i am ready to make my dreams come true.”

Jage pulled down his granny panties and they both stared at his inch long, 7 inch thick chode, glistening in the moonlight coming in through the side window. “There she is, Dut, dont she look pretty? Like a long insect larvae. Only this one will never turn into a beautiful cock butterfly. This one will stay the same, shooting green jizz when a trucker jiggles it for a wish.”

Dut reached down and touched the horrible chode, sending Jage into an incredible orgasm.

“Okay, sir, what is your wish?”

Dut rubbed his chin. “I want me TWO wishes. First wish, I want you to put this here George Noory on the FM station for better reception. Wish 2… i want me a professional truckin diaper with s hose attached to it. This way when i am barreling down a freeway, i aint pissin out the window no more. Now im pissin like a professional. Just like them senatorial folks i sees on my sleeper-cab TV.”

“Your wishes have been granted.” Jage opened the passenger door, and paused. “When theres somebody strugglin for a place to stand, a decent job or a helping hand, if theres somebody struggling to be free, look in their eyes, Dut, youll see the Road Chode.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dut then gunned it and gave Jage a boot, sending him flying 10 feet onto the pavement on his back. Dut then laid on the airhorn to let Jage know who the Bossman is.

“Well, Squiggles… looks like Ol Dutman won again.”
“Me thinks its high time for another round of delicious Yellow Jackets, does my Lord agree?”
“Squiggles… we got 150 miles of pavement and 120 minutes to get to Cumberland, my good buddy. Put em in my mouth.”

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