the same reason I don't "sleep"; I suffice with combat naps of a few hours. Then rush for a cold beer. I'll not attempt to challenge your poetic prose (which I do enjoy), but here's a token tale:
It's damn cool to have friends that will pull yer ass out of the fire; I wasn't trained that way...
If I got busted, then I dare not bring heat or notice to my clan. It's my fucking problem; with that disclaimer, I bring this story...
1988- Got my mojo working, sitting in a park with my bud and a couple of hotties. We be smoking and drinking. As my friend takes a lungbuster off the joint, his Slayer T-shirt glows for the undercover narcs having a late nite chicken dinner and scoping the scene. We convinced the girls that it was time to pick up more beer and get down.
I fire my 442 up; rolling to the store. Nope.
The narcs call us into the radio units and prepare a bust/shakedown. As I pull into the stop and rob, the narc pulls a flashlight and a badge (remember I got a car fulla beer and weed and two babes in tow).
Downshift, kill the lights and smoke the tires out to the main drag. Toss all beer and try to ditch the cops. Nope. They fuckin blocked the whole street down and busted my ass. I wasn't DUI material, but they found a shitload of roaches in the ashtray.
At the cop shop, they dump one of the chics purse and like 50 jimmies fall out. Dammit Gumby! Needless to say, everyone is released except me. I ended up doing 56 days in county jail for "drug abuse" for the roaches. It's Christmas time and my Dad is waving "see ya" as I step off. Just another day in the life.
Jason
