The glory days

I used to get up about 3 in the morning, eat a shit load of sugar, jump on my bike and ride to my friends house. After I fist fought his old man in the living room… because after I supposedly woke the whole god damn family up when I kicked in the front door…. causing the fucking aquarium that was behind the door to shatter…. killing all the damn goldfish.

The ambulance came to cart my friends dad away on a stretcher, so we sped away to this path that was  known as “our fucking trail”

“Our fucking trail” had jumps as high as big bird, turns that made you wreck into a muddy river, trees and bushes that you had to dodge from having your head ripped off like Jason Voorhees did to a sorry son of a bitch in all of his movies.

“Friday the 13th part 112″….. this time they try to suffocate Jason with a backpack at the retirement home.

We were having a blast speeding…. around, across, through, twisting and turning…laughing like a pair of wasted white trash. But the important thing is ….we had fun and no son of a bitch was going to tell us no. Except for the fucker’s land we happened to stumble on while we were chasing a sasquatch with a beebee gun ….we forgot to read the sign that said…. “–Private Property–any fuck that doesn’t obey will be shot down like a pair of Jews at base camp!!!”

Unfortunately, my friend got blown away, while pedaling as fast as he could go…..I had the better bike, so I beat him to the “safe point”, which was a big fucking mound of leaves that we used to stuff innocent little children under if they happen to ride “our fucking trail” without us knowing……….and I lived to write about it.

We always used to play Basketball all the time, but he always brought out a ball that was from the 1940’s. It was more worn out than Lindsay Lohan’s Vagina.

 plus it was flatter than the top of sean connery’s skull and it only bounced about as high as william hung’s songs on the billboard charts…..we usually played horse or pig because we were as bad as the clippers playing a real game of basketball. And I looked like a nine year old girl trying to dunk a basketball filming the next episode of “Little People Big World”.

 We were more bored with horse or pig than most of these old bastard’s at the retirement home with limp dick’s

 We decided to add our own game called “The sorry son of a bitch that loses gets to buy the next round of beer for a week” It usually took us eight and a half weeks to finish, but it was well worth it when I pulled away a victory. Seven days of drinking heavily…..

 until I ended up like Nic Cage in Leaving Las Vegas…. talking shit to him across the table like an abusive father. All the while, he’s drinking water out of his cupped hands.

Oh What Fabulous memories…….


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