15/30 W.T. Beat


Fern was the baby in the bike seat and we were cruisen the streets of Red Bluff.
I had Lupe’s leash around my cruiser bar handles and some
fucken' Pit came runnen' off some W.T.’s saggy toilet rental porch they was sitten’ on.
Lupe’ ‘n this Pit went at it
in the street.
Lupe’ drug the bike I was on across the street fighten' and spitten’ en’ teeth gnashing.
n’ the Big Momma on the porch started to yell stuff at you.
n’ you started to yell W.T. slurs back and my bike was sliden' and draggen’
while the dogs were fighten' spit and growelen'.
Everyone screaming, toddlers wide eyed
and the Dude fast walked off the porch to the fighting dogs
pick his Pit up my the collar and the asshole
and you and the W.T. braless fatty on the porch was still yellen’ W.T. slurs
and you said I’munna park my FUCKEN bike and come over there and smash your FUCKEN face in.
She still sat in her folding chair lean forward while I stood my bike up, unhooked the leash from the handle bars and checked Lupe’s neck to see if his neck was bleeden'.
n’ suddenly it was over,
it was still hot outside
Lupe’ still wanted to run
we cruised off on our bikes in the darkenen’ afternoon sun

04/15/2011

Author's Note: very bad language.

Posted on 04/16/2011
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