3rd
Coke Nail
This isn’t what I meant. At all. But sometimes a Google Image search does all the work for you. Actually, this picture is way funnier than the ensuing post could ever be and I’m shamed by it.
The most flagrant, balls-out coke nail I ever saw was on a gas station attendant. This guy’s pinky nail took the cake, dehydrated it, pulverized it, scooped it up and snorted it. The nail was white acrylic—as in “I actually went to a salon and had this done” WITH A RAINBOW AND HAWAIIAN SUNSET PAINTED ON. I don’t remember anything else about him; I was snow-blinded by greatness.
But being blinded by the tropical paradise on this man’s finger doesn’t stop me from having a nearly archetypal figure attached to it: show me the nail, and the details fill in themselves! In fact, when I conjure Coke Nail Guy, he appears before me piecemeal, like the Cheshire Cat, in the following order; his coke nail, his greasy ponytail, his priors, and his bitchin’ van with a mural painted on.
You know Coke Nail Guy; he used to cruise for poontang (hey, his word, not mine) at the local community college until he met his 17 year old girlfriend, a fellow addict who scratches his face when she gets angry at him, which is often. Sometimes they hang out in the Burger King parking lot for no reason except to use the pay phone, which, to their great and inexplicable dismay, is the last in the neighborhood.
Aside from her scratch attacks, their relationship is marked by an almost comical lack of enthusiasm—they were once in car wreck together and when the girl passed out from a concussion, all Coke Man did was wander to Circle K (they love Circle K), flip through an issue of Barely Legal, chit-chat with the cashier and walk back. The girlfriend was only angry that he didn’t bring her back any Jolly Ranchers when he knows they’re her favorite and he was at the store anyway.
I really wish I’d hopped onto this train of thought days ago, because with a single press-on nail and some talc, I could have had my broke ass a cheap Halloween costume.
