Chapter six


Ok, so me and Dope Chuck were at the bowling alley right?!

The eagles are blaring on the jukebox where sister Mary's wayward niece is shaking her crooked rump right before the next record plays and it's some funky reakwon the chef only Cuban links and boom Dope Chuck hits a seven ten like it stole his favorite grandmas cannoli.

The whole joint smells like my ass on a good day and the lanes are extra greased, on my third mug o molsons after 28 shots of the vod. 13 shots of the ka. I light a funky cigarette I found behind that sleepy male prostitute resting nearby the beautifully graffitied city dumpster.

I'm talking freaking hieroglyph type shit or whatever. Eclectic nightshades hued in mauve interpretations of ancient visages right next to big hairy dicks going in their mouths.

I'm shaking inside because the marriage is falling apart but that's not gonna shake the game. I grab my ball, then I grab my heart.

“Holy shatbooski, is that you? Author Plagerist the third?! We haven't seen your hide nor tail since you squealed testimony under code 19.56 as judged in 1943 by the most least honorable judge Ratcliff St. Forsale in the trial of Hoe vs Roughish rake. We're gonna kill you. Snitch.” This dude named Blimey I knew from primary school whispered wetly into my ear.

“Why is your mouth still wet?!” I screamed most unnerved while readying for my bowl game roll.

It was then I remembered, he said he was going to kill me. He had said this several times before so… I mean like. A. Lot. Of. Times

Every time he sees me he's like
“Oh, I'm a criminal. And you used to be a criminal with us. And then it turned out you were a cop or a magician or spy or something. And it sucked. And you betrayed us. So kill. I'ma fucking kill you. I have mad in me and it makes me say kill.” Total drama.

I bowl and leave one pin standing and I'm pissed dude. The bullet that flew past my head after I ducked like quack landed in the nutsack of a nearby lumberjack on vacay. He was nonplussed.

“ow. My sexual organisms!” He screamed as I drove my best fist into the throat of the first attacker, he went lump and spit lung residue onto my left most foot.

Now I was pissed, ya dig?
Five consecutive karate kicks to the sternum of the next honky, I tilted my hat and smirked.

“Homie don't play that.”

I jeet kun do fainted which led to Greco Roman as I suplexed the shit outta some kid walking by and then saito slammed the next fool onto a pile of broken pins.

“Hiya!” Someone said. Not me.



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