STELM: In this chapter two of three character finally touch base! In this late night crime filled bonanza you'll see what it means to live and die in Sunbelt City.
Stay tuned and stay toasted!
Patches of Dark in Sunbelt City
-Jrue-
"It's a plane, it's a car, it's a boat." Jrue spoke to himself as BEAN FM put Planecarboat by Mac Miller to an end. It was a stoner mecca for blazed beats to drive to. Jrue was more high now than anything as he drove on the right lane… I think.
Rocky was on him, by on I meant sucking his dick from the passenger. He was driving to some gas station close by. He needed some more rollups. It was late, really late. The streets were fairly empty expect the random suspicious vehicle or two and the radio's host was going on about his love for some good ole toasted sandwiches.
"Toasted Sandwich… haha." Jrue said to himself as Rocky continued to go down. The two had just talked about moving in with each other. That'd be dope…
Almost there….
"Fuck" Jrue said as he bust with pure estacy in Rocky's mouth. Rocky swallowed his babies without getting anything on his pants. That woulda fucking sucked. Rocky was the shit.
"I love that shit." Jrue said as he kept on driving, he was like halfway to the gas station, they were at a red light.
"I know." Rocky said and she started singing to the song that was playing on the radio.
"Know I hit you wit' the drop kick, Marty Jannetty… ha…hahaha." Rocky sung Action Bronson's Rockers featuring Wiz as she leaned back in her seat.
The light was still green when… wait green meant go right? Jrue's hybrid inched forward and before they could get halfway through the intersection a Bobcat cut them off. They had to be going at like… lightspeed. The bobcat was coming from the direction of the gas station.
Jrue picked up his pace and was a little heavier on the pedal. He had been to the same 24/7 gas station plenty of times. The place got robbed on a set schedule. Jrue counted once a month when that the Pakistani got his ass jacked. The guy was always spinning proverbs and whatnot. Some hood rats probably just took the pocket change that lay in that man's cash register, petty money.
Knowing the SBPD they probably would never be found and turned in.
"Fuck those guys were going at like sound speed." Rocky said as her eyes were now peeled on the streets as they covered more and more asphalt. The gas station was a mile or two ahead. It was obvious that something was wrong.
-Ernesto-
He contemplated putting another one in the junkie's head. Blood came from his mouth. "Man, I wanted no part of this...this was his idea...I had wanted to kick bro...come on...don't do me like this..." Ernesto briefly considered sparing him but said, "You should have thought of that before shooting at me, maricone. Your two dead bodies will be a warning to that leva."
He checked the white boy for money and he took his cell phone. The guy had about $200 on him. The man still pleaded with him. "Come on, man...I'm only twenty-five. I'm young to die."
Ernesto looked back at the black dude. "You're never too young to die, tinto. But tu sabes, you're not very much a threat to me. I'm gonna take your cuete and the polar bears and be on my way. If you make it, you'd better thank whatever God you believe in. If you don't, kiss a pinche three-leaf clover. One more thing, where does this punk, Richard live? What apartment in the third ward?"
The guy said, "ahhhh man...he just slings there. He live across the street. Yo...over in the white boy's phone...he's got his number, address and everything..."
The man groaned, "Can't you at least...call 911 real quick? Damn...leave a nigga to bleed out..what's the point...? Might as well have finished me off!" He began coughing violently and hacking up more blood. The wound was pretty bad. Ernest said, "Sadly you aint worth another bullet. It's up to fate if you live or die now. Out of my hands. And while I aint killing you I sure as fuck don't have to save your sorry ass. You just hit a cabbie who had nothing to do with this. Now you want sympathy?"
He took the keys off the dead gabacho too and got into the vehicle driving off. He now had a .44, a 380 and a .25 handgun to add to his arsenal. Attempted murder by junkie aside, it wasn't a bad haul for his first day back. He began to drive back to the varrio.
-Barry-
Barry was freaking out. He didn't know what he was going to do now. He went back in the store with the smoking shotgun. He walked back inside to check on the family. The mother and child were crying hysterically. He sighed and closed his eyes.
Shit! Is this how you treat your children, God? I've tried to change, you know as well as I do if I'd killed that man back in Liberty City my soul would be as cursed as it already is that was a good man and these are good people too. Do you ignore their prayers?!
He sucked in a breath and took his jacket off. Well, if I'm going away for life, Imma do what I can to help these people out. Do a bit of good before I'm either doing life or on death row. He walked up to the wife, whose cheeks were soaked with tears. "Ma'am your kid doesn't need to see this. Put this over him until backup arrives."
It was a nice leather jacket too but material things could not be put above human need. While granted, the damage was already done, there was no need to traumatize the child any further. Every second he looked at his dead father would be the further he would ever be from having a normal life.
Shit, Barry had seen his own pops get gunned down. He knew the feeling. So now, Barry wanted to help these people. The lady tearfully said, "Thank...you... I..." He began to panic. "I gotta get up outta here. They're going to send the cops along and I...I'm in some trouble. I just came in here to get something to drink and then this shit happens...you know what I'm saying...? I wanna help you but look it don't matter if I just helped you or not. If I don't split, I'm going to jail. I'm trying to put all that bad stuff behind me. Your husband knew that."
He heard a vehicle pull up outside. It clearly wasn't the cops because they would have rolled up quickly with sirens and there would have been more than one. He could hear sirens in the distance however. That had to be the rednecks coming back to finish the job.
He checked the ammo of the shotgun. He still had three left. He put the gun back together and waited, his back against the wall, next to the entrance which luckily was guarded by beer advertisements outside. The door opened and a scrawny Asian male and a Central American woman came in. Barry pumped the shotgun and aimed it at their faces. The Asian backed up in fear and said, "God damn it I thought the robbers left! Jesus..."
Barry shouted gruffly at both of them, "We're fucking closed! There's another store about three blocks west of here."
The woman looked at the dead body on the floor. The Asian then asked, "Wait, if you're still here, who were those guys in the truck we just saw speeding away?" The woman nodded. "We heard shots too. We thought it was just the neighborhood but I guess not. Is the clerk okay?"
Barry yelled, "I'm asking the fucking questions here! Now who the fuck are you two? Second, I didn't rob this store. I came in here to get a soda maybe a beer, who knows? That's my business. Then this store gets robbed and shot up by some trigger happy hill billies. I think they were tweaking too. Then, they get away and I'm left here holding the gun so it looks like I jacked these people but I didn't!"
The Asian held up his hands, "All right, man chill. That does make a little more sense but...why are you holding a gun if you didn't rob the place?" Barry explained, "Because, I was trying to help these people out here. See that dude over there on the floor? This is his shotty. I knocked him out with a bottle. So maybe the cops will have somebody to arrest when they get here, maybe they arrest us both I really don't know."
The woman sniffed saying, "Yes, he did help. He kept his head down for a bit to avoid getting shot but he helped as soon as he could," The man looked behind the register and saw the fallen man. He went to go touch the jacket and the woman with him said, "No, papi, don't touch it! You'll leave finger prints on it and they're finger you for it. Haven't you ever seen Science Of Crime?"
He rolled his eyes. "Nobodies gonna get arrested plus I hate that show. It's forensically boring plus most of my forensic science friends like it either. Besides this is just the jacket. Any good Samaritan could have covered him up," He lifted it up and looked at the dead body. "Oh fucking Jesus...I think I'm gonna throw up...holy fuck...you weren't playing..."
The woman, who Barry made to be a hooker, eyed the two other corpses and the knocked out guy. "Who's the gorda? Was she killed with the shotgun too?" Barry nodded. "That's what I'm telling yall! I didn't think I just grabbed it in the spur of the moment without even realizing that could be the rest of my life down the drain. My instincts just kicked in. Anyway, the fat guy got done by the husband. He had a piece in case shit like this happened. He shoots tubs, and the others lit him up. I knocked this nigga right here out but I don't know when he'll be coming to."
The younger man asked, "Why don't we just let the cops come? Give them your statement, clear your name? I can throw the shit I got on me but I don't want nobody to get hooked for murder." Barry sighed. "I'm wanted for some shit back in Liberty. I shouldn't be telling ya'll this but shit you got a street walker with you so you aint in much place to judge," The woman shot him an offended look. "Hey, fuck you!" He scoffed, "Come on girl, you ain't fooling anybody with a body like that. Look, I ain't a saint, pretty far from it but I aint supposed to go down like this. I really wasn't here for no trouble."
The Asian man said, "Well...shit, we can give you a ride. Come with us. We'll give you a lift out of here," Barry was sweating. "I don't know, man I think I need to get outta town or something. Cause if the pigs get hold of that video camera, they'll know where I'm at. Can you drop me at he airport?" The Pakistani woman went to the back and came out with something, a disc in hand. "Here. Take this for now. I understand your concern and I appreciate you trying to help us. I'll tell police the robbers take it."
The Asian said, "Look, don't look a gift horse in its mouth, bro. We can get you out of here before the cops even show up. If you don't want a ride you'd better make a quick choice cause I hear sirens. I'm not sticking around for them to show up you ain't the only one who's uncomfortable with the law when it's against. I used to think the police were all right till I've had them pull guns on me. And this was back east. I don't even wanna know just how bad they can get out here!"
Barry looked at him and said, "Aight, I'll trust you but don't try nothing funny. For my own protection, I got a shotgun and..." He pulled out the .500 and said, "This motherfucker right there. The only reason I'm even trusting ya'll is you from out of state. That's at least earned you the benefit of the doubt."
"Chill my man I'm not gonna fuck you. Trust me." The Asian man said while he grabbed a few rolling papers, some chips, and a 40 oz. The three accessories of murder walked outside and towards a hybrid.
They got into the vehicle, Barry riding in the back. He set the guns next to him in the back. They took off, pulling out of the parking lot as fast as that piece of shit would go. As they rolled up the street, several cop cars rolled up to the store. The lady met them out front, her tears still fresh. Barry thought to himself, I really do wish I could do more for her but I can't. Poor lady. Poor bastard, man that guy was nice!
-Ernesto-
Ernesto pulled up to Flaco's house. The Mexican banger was having some sort of BBQ that had started earlier in the night. "Q Vo, ese? You scoop up your son?"
Ernesto nodded. "Ran into a little trouble on the way but we're good," There were several other cholos there and even two cholas. Many of them Ernesto did not know because they were a younger generation of South Side Aztecas. There was a young teenager getting his hair shaved off with clippers by another equally young banger. Ernesto observed as he walked onto Flaco's porch.
"What's that about, hermano? What's with all these pee wees these days shaving their heads like that? Remember the good old days? 70's and 80's when cholos wore their hair with pride?" Flaco shrugged. "I don't know, bro. It's new trend. I'm not really too big on how the cholas will dye their hair blonde, fucking bleach and shit? That would have never happened back in my day. That white washed shit. Red hair was one thing but never ever blonde!"
Marcus "Flaco" Gonzales ranted, "I blame that puta, Beyonce. Stupid bitch aint even raza but first she gets her own gente doing that and then our own do it? Vine wood beauty standards que no? If a woman can't look in the mirror and see her own natural black hair as beautiful and be proud of who she is, then why should any man be proud to call her his woman? Sabes que, maybe it aint just stupid pop stars like her but maybe a lot of women in Vinewood. Making looking like Nordic trash the thing to be?"
One of the Ese's getting, the one with a joint in his mouth and clippers in his hand said, "She's tri racial but she looks mostly black till she became rubia. Guess that just makes her a southern white girl with a big ass que no?" This got some laughter from the cholos yet scowls from the girls, neither of which had bleached their hair. Flaco looked disgusted and spat saying, "Chales, fool I wouldn't fuck her with your dick! Or Lady Gaga's for that matter!" This got laughter from both the cholos and cholas.
He handed Ernesto a cold Cerveza Baracho and had one himself. Ernesto clinked bottles with him saying, "Mira, to the old school, homie!" He took a swig and let out a satisfied, "Ahhh..." Ernesto leaned in close whispering, "Escucha, ese traficante que estaba jugando con mi hijo, que tenía un tiro de matarlo, pero no lo hizo y envió un par de adictos a tratar de matarme. Tuve que poner a ambos. Pensando en ir tras él a continuación." (Listen, that dealer that was messing with my son, I had a shot to kill him but didn't and he sent a couple of junkies to try and kill me. I had to lay them both out. Thinking of going after him next. )
Flaco told him in a whisper back, "Wait a day or so. Catch him off guard. Maybe he thinks you're dead. Gives him an advantage, right?" Ernesto shrugged. "I guess," He said stepping back with the beer in hand. "Hey by the way, what's up with those putos from SWC still spraying up Soul Nation symbols and numbers along with trece, man? I remember them doing that before I moved to San Andreas and they still haven't been taught a lesson? They need to either keep the 113 and drop the 5 or vice versa but if they do the latter we're kicking them outta Gulfton. Serio, home."
Flaco told him, "They've been getting shot. Sad to say brown on brown violence is still up, just black on brown is too and that gets the head lines. As far as the Cholos go, I don't know, Ernesto, I mean other Azteca varrios have made them feel the pressure but they still don't do what we say," He then smiled wickedly and said, "But before, we didn't hit them in the name of La Onda. You're a member on the streets, man. You're a certified member both in San Andreas and in this state. You got a rare privilege, compa. I say we use that."
Ernesto nodded. "Yeah, that I am. It's been a long time though. I mean I represented plenty in San An but out here, that's another story. It's only cause mi jefito started the Onda chapter out here in 84' that I was able to be part of both. That and I've been to prison before out here as well but I only did a year. That was back before I first met Marisol. Nowadays, I aint sure."
Flaco insisted, "Come on, homie you know you got respect all across the board. You're back now. It's time to take back the city, hell the state! New Austin happens to be a south-western state if you want to get technical about it. It's also in the heart land which makes it midwest so if Onda and all South Side cliquas have trouble getting respecto it's cause we got an influx of Carcer City gangs too. Fucking Kin and Soul Nation. We need to show those We-Are-The-World shit heads know how real Chicanos bang."
In saying this he was referring to the fact that both Kin and Soul abandoned the traditional gang structure of banding with your culture or nationality and had multi racial gangs within their alliances. "I mean, obviously those levas are gonna end up in the pinta at some point. They think that rainbow hippie shit is gonna fly in there, home? This aint Carcer County Jail. Our prisons don't run like theirs do. That's why moon pies & kin cans are bitches. Others might respect them but we don't have to. Now anyway, there's a puto named Franco over in the SWC hood just a few blocks over. You know where those panochas hang out. Go teach them a lesson. Try to leave Franco alive if you can. If not, waste the fucker."
Ernesto walked back to the vehicle and got in. It took him some recalling to find out the hood the set trippin bitches claimed. Eventually he found it and he drove up the street slow, watching. He pulled up to a hot spot and got out. There was a few gang members on the corner chilling. He demanded, which one of you is Franco?" A man who was clearly American Indian and a member of the Cholos said, "Nigga, who the fuck are you?" Ernesto asked, "A concerned citizen. And what did you just call me? Don't call me nigga, ese! Take a look in the mirror. I think you're a little confused."
The guy, Franco, had his hair cut short and had a white T-shirt with an Emerald City Seamen jersey on. He also had a red snap back on backwards with stonewashed jeans and new white and red sneakers. "Hell no! I aint no Mexican. I'm red not brown, Pure and simple. Real talk!" Ernesto was already getting tired of this young ignorant fool. "We're part of this continent too, pendejo. Same people. We aint red either that's a stereotype. Or did you not pass your history class to find that out?"
The guy sneered, "Whatever, old man! The fuck you want?" One of his homies, a Chicano dressed in a gray bandanna, black basketball shorts, and a San Andreas jersey said, "Who's this punk, Franco? You want me to get him up outta here?"
Ernesto from inside the vehicle said, "Listen up, your cliqua? We've been on bad terms with them for a long time. There's a reason for that. You either need to represent the trece or take it off. We can't have you using Soul nation symbols as well as South Sider. Sends the wrong message."
The kid, Franco said, "I don't give a mad fuck! You aint in Los Santos, brah. This is my city. Nobody tells us what to do. I'll tag up what I want, and I'll wear what ink I want. Shit, I even got homies in the Family hoods. We make paper nigga! See how my swag lookin' like? Get the fuck up! I don't know what the fuck you're about but you look like a bad 70's cholo movie. Ain't about khakis and switch blades no more. This the 21st century. So get to stepping before we dead yo ass."
Ernesto looked at him saying, "God, I'm literally dumber for having heard everything you just said. Did your mami smoke crack when she was pregnant with you? Maybe that's why you think it's okay to speak and act like a chanate?" Franco pulled out a Glock 40 and aimed it at him and said, "It's time for you to leave. We ain't changing a thing. Fuck the Ass Touchers. Aint nobody scared of those flu rag fags! You lucky I let you leave here after talking about my mama like that you outta pocket, dawg," Ernesto squinted. The kid looked and sounded ridiculous.
Ernesto quickly opened the door of the SUV and slammed it into the kid causing his cuete to discharge against his will. The homie of Franco went for his own gun, a Beretta but Ernesto fired, shooting him in the temple and the hand cannon blew a huge chunk of brains out of the wannabe cholos head. Franco tried to back up but Ernesto pistol whipped him and knocked the hat from his head. As he hit the kid his lip bled. He hit him again and shoved him down. "That was my road dog, man! The homies is gonna hit you up real soon!"
Ernesto shook his head. "You don't know who I am do you? I'm a member of the New Austin La Onda chapter. That's La Raza's equivalent of being a made man. So as long as your hood has a thirteen on it you aint gonna do anything. If I have to come back here again and if I see South West Cholo tags anywhere near my neighborhood again before you remove the Soul Nation symbols, I will kill you. And if your hood moves on me, your whole cliqua gets a green light. You don't want that."
Franco looked up in fear as Ernesto had taken his Glock from him. "La Onda? You shitting me? Who the fuck are you, man?" Ernesto sarcastically replied, "George Lopez," And with that, he fired a shot into the 19 year old punk's left knee cap. He screamed, his voice getting higher than a school girl. He pistol whipped him in the jaw saying, "Shut the fuck up. You can scream like a baby all you want when I'm gone. If I see you around here again, you're dead. Rapido muerte!" With that he fired into the other knee and turned the cartilage and everything else into hamburger.
He screamed again but this time his voice gave out in mid scream and he went into shock. Two more cholos tossed down their beer cans and went for their guns as they saw what happened but Ernesto aimed at one and fired hitting him in the right shoulder. He cried out as a huge hole was torn between his arm and left shoulder. Ernesto decided to use the .380 he also had with him. He ducked back into the vehicle to get it just as the other cholo started firing. Ernesto got it out as two rounds whizzed by his head and another hit the left side mirror.
Ernesto fired the remaining rounds in the .38 and hit the guy, a cholo in a gray button up shirt and blue baggy jeans, in the stomach, chest and throat. He got back into the ride and began to haul ass out of there. More cholos, armed came running up the street only to see that they were too late. They rushed to the side of their fallen wounded of them yelled, "Somebody get an ambulance! Call 911!"
Fucking set trippin levas.
-Barry-
The Asian asked him, "What's your name?" Barry sighed and said, "Barry St. Clair," The guy said, "Nice," passed Barry the 40 oz and introduced himself, "Barry, I'm Joo, but people call me Jrue. She's Rocky. Anyway, how did you know I was from out of town?"
Rocky laughed and said, "You've been smoking too much of that shit Jrue. You just said something about back east, remember? I think that earned you a little of out of town solidarity. Don't worry though. We New Austinians don't bite," She said with a wink. She then added to Jrue, "Unless you want us to."
He nervously shot her a Now-Is-Not-The-Time look. Barry said, "Yeah, your girl is right and even if you hadn't said anything about back east, you don't have New Austin plates. That's a pretty big indication you aren't from around here. Well, that and your accent. You're a Yankee too, aint ya?"
Jrue chuckled. "Just barely. Carcer city wasn't really part of the big thirteen. I like my tea either chopped and screwed or unsweet. I guess all in all, I'm just an Asian American, simple as that. More importantly though, what the fuck happened back there?"
Barry broke it down. "I went in there just for a beer. I wanted a beer but that guy, there's something about him. It's like he was telling me it was bad for me but without using words. It was with his eyes, you know what I'm saying? So I was going to get a soda but then these rednecks came in there scaring everybody. They put a gun to that kid's head. I didn't want to get mixed up but I can't let a little kid get shot by some methed out inbreds, can I? That lady you found on the floor, she came in wrong place wrong time and they shot her, the dude on the floor did. The clerk pulled a piece and shot the fat guy and they shot him. We're talking overkill."
He couldn't believe the shit had happened himself. Just talking about it was his own way of accepting the reality of what had happened. He continued, "So I hit the skinny bastard with the bottle. Clocked him upside the dome and he was out. I took the shotgun and fired at them as they got away. Funny thing is, I think they were after more than just the money in the register. They kept yelling something about a lotto ticket before they shot him. He gave it up before he started squeezing off so it looks like he got what he came for."
They sat in since as they drove. Jrue asked him, "Any idea where we're going, Barry?"
He said,"Nah, I'm new to the city."
"It's cool man you can stay up in my place until you get some ground under yah." Jrue said smoking a joint Rocky just rolled and passed to him. Barry was in the back hittin' the bottle.
"I'm just thinking, dawg. I mean, even if that lady hadn't been kind enough to let me take the disc with me, and the pigs had looked at it, they probably wouldn't have caught that they wanted the lottery ticket not the money. It was just a diversion. How does dumb inbreds like that think up a plan that elaborate?"
Jrue thought it over a minute. Rocky spoke up and said, "Then whoever is leading them aren't inbred. Not so dumb either because I mean..." Rocky interrupted, "I'm not 100% on this so don't hold me to it but that was probably members of the Cotton Ball Mafia. They got a lot of clout around here. Really just about all of the south. They got their hands in just about everything in this state. What they don't control, they try to. Dope, moon shine, guns, laundering, pussy, extortion, they always got their hands in the cookie jar."
Barry looked at the guns in his possession. "I don't know why this had to happen and I don't know why Allah would allow it but maybe I was meant to walk in there for a reason. Maybe those motherfuckers have been pulling shit like this longer than we know and I'm meant to stop it? It's a blessing that lady didn't sell me out.I owe her for that. I'm going to get her some justice."
Jrue asked him, "Hold up, you mean street justice? What are you going to do, Barry? What were you wanted for in the first place?" Barry answered, "I can't say right now, but yeah, I'm talking about street justice. What, you thought I was going to give the Sunbelt PD a ring? Hell no! Where I come from, G, street justice is the only kind of justice. On the real!"
Barry looked out at the night-time skyline. "I maybe a nobody out here but I'll do whatever I'm able to. If that man got killed over a Lottery ticket that isn't right. It was rightfully his and even if some would say he brought it on himself by shooting at the jackers, he's a small business owner he's got the right to defend what's his."
Upon saying this, Barry wondered what his own baby was up to and he hoped whatever or wherevers she was, the only person he ever gave a damn about aside from pops and mom in dukes, was in good hands. Insha Allah...
-Ernesto-
As Ernesto rolled out of the enemy territory, the cell phone of the junkie began to ring. He let it ring two, three four times and then answered. He did not say anything, he only pressed the talk button. The caller ID said Richard. "Don't keep me in suspense, bro. You dust the Varrio rat yet? I'm paying you guys good money and good shit to do this. You've had over an hour and I told you exactly where he was going so what's up?"
He spoke up saying, "Wrong, man, asshole. You know I was thinking, all of my customers are either gringos or black guys too. Don't like selling in the varrio. Self preservation and all that shit. What if I was to get some of our clients to come and get you? Then again, why should a crack head get all the fun when I can just come there right now and kill you myself? You should have stayed gone, joto."
Richard yelled, "Who do you think you talking to? So what you saying, you snuffed out my clients? Let's get one thing straight, partna, I'm the man round here. I'm S town. H.A.M. do you know that means? Hard As a Mothafucka! You just a burnt out bitch who don't know when his days done. You come up in the hood I got homies to back me so make your move, pussy boy. I'm real tight with the Locs round here. Shit, if I drop a certified Onda member they might just bless me into the set. Won't have to take no jump in or nothing. Don't let me catch you slippin on the fucking streets BITCH!" With that, the leva hung up.
Ernesto put the vehicle in drive and clutched the Glock in his hand. "Oh yeah. You can bet on that, culero. More sooner than later..." He looked at the address in the junkies phone. He began to drive out that way. He didn't live in the projects but in a house adjacent to it.
With that, as he drove off, he turned the radio station to 104.5 Radio Mundo, the station that played Chicano Hip Hop, Aztlan oldies, and any other kind of music La Raza was into. From Rock & Roll like Santana to women like Selena, who was a fucking legend in this state. God rest her soul Ernesto thought. So young only 23. I have something in common with her father, I lost one of my own too soon.
The song Neighborhood Music by Lil Rob played as he drove. This was a song he could relax to. At least in the time he had before he knew he'd have to start spilling blood again.
Goddamn...first day back in town and I'm already running around the streets like a mad man! Aye dios mio. He thought to himself, it was almost 2am. After this shit I'm gonna need a shave, a shower and some good old-fashioned sleep.
STELM: That's it! Read and Review as always and if you hate something tell us about it!