Posted 12:31 PM by Alfred

Brock sat on the roof of the gymnasium, calmly smoking a kool and loading his father’s glock. The menthol flavored carbon-monoxide laced fumes filled his lungs, both warming and freezing his dead heart. They were gonna pay. Not just Darren and his crew. No. Everybody. They were all gonna kick up the flow in duckets of blizud.

Ah, fuck that. Going out in a blaze of bullets on school property was so clichéd. Stick to the original plan Sampson. He stood up, took dead aim at the window to the principal’s office across the courtyard, and fired. Glass shattered. Hmm, no alarm? Cheap fukn bureaucrats.

Oh well, that little diversion was done. Time to go grab some Wienerschnitzel. He climbed down the ladder on the side of the building, jumped down from the veranda over the lobby entrance, grabbed his bike from the bushes, and was on his way.

The wind felt good in his face. The glock was in his belt, aimed right at his D. For about five seconds this seemed vaguely cool, and then not quite so. He stopped, moved the glock to his back, thought better, and put it in his backpack, making sure the safety was on. Fukn guns. What in the fuck was he doing out here anyway? What had shooting in Bowman’s window accomplished? It wasn’t like anyone knew about it or would know about it. It was one of those things not quite hardcore enough that people would think you were too much of a psycho, but just quite core enough to make people wonder & potentially call in Johnny Law.

Aah fuck it. He had a weiner-dude attitude going on and the night was young. Brush away thoughts of contemplative dramaville, young rasta, and get to steppin’ where they’ve gots chili & dogs and where the broads ain’t hogs. Or something like that.

Sidenotes for all y’all:

40 years ago this month, a young Al Davis made an iffy career move & jumped ship from the San Diego Chargers to become general manager & head coach of a clusterfuck failure of a team known as the Oakland Raiders.

30 years ago this Saturday, a certain ultrablogneticator known as the rhesus monkey trainer, and now also as Methuselah, was born in Santa Monica, CA.

20 years ago today was the debut of the muthafuckin A-Team. And I remember that shit, it was one of those after the super bowl debuts. Yesirrebobskee.

10 years ago today something had to fukken happen but I don’t know what the hell it was. You try figuring that shit out with a frikken goat trying to chomp on your fingernails.

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