| >> |
07/30/09(Thu)13:09:54 No.4910116  >>4910105
(continued)
Previously,
they stole my bike not once, not twice, but three fucking times. Same
bike. First time, they stole it and I spotted the kid riding it, so I
clotheslined him and took it to my friend's house, and chained it there
for the night. Next morning, the chain's been hacksawed. I walk home,
and on the way I see it in this kid's front yard. I go to get it, his
parents sitting on the porch, and he comes out to tell me I can't. His
mom tells me she bought it for him, and I show her my initials under
the seat. She tells me they all come with that, it's the brand, and I
say bullshit and ride off. The next day, they steal it and throw it in
the creek.
But after hearing this, I'm pissed. I go in my room
and find a suitable metal bar. I march down the street with it in hand.
A bit past the end of the street is a large pile of dirt, which this
"gang" calls base. I head there, and there they all are. They call down
to me and ask what I'm gonna do. Ignoring them I start to climb it.
They begin to throw rocks and dirt clods at me, but I ignore those too,
in my barely controlled rage. |
