I've been relieved of too many bikes
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I could go on, but here's the story. My younger brother and I were the only white kids in the neighborhood, so I made a bunch of black friends that would usually result from me beating their asses. I did lose a fight once when a kid named Terell basically got into a boxing fight with me. He probably hit me in the face 50 times, I hit him once; it ended when he got tired and we both rested upon a parked motorcycle, we talked and basically became friends afterwards. I don't think he ever stole anything, but the rest of the crew was another story.
I lost all faith in any boxing talents, so every confrontation after that I used to body slam, suplex, and hold them down, the trick was to make it look pretty wicked (WWF style) and I'd get a lot of cheers and words of encouragement from the crowd of them. I had built up an incredible core strength from doing these very moves on my 230 pound mulatto friend at the time (inside though, he was much whiter than me). So that's the story of how I made a load of black ghetto friends for when I was around the neighborhood.
I've been to some of their places before, but they were filthy dumps (and we lived in the same complex). So they used to hang out at my place, raiding my pantry for chips and we would play the Nintendo and the Sega. Once in awhile they stole stuff, get berated by my mom for letting them in.
Everything is brought to you by Fjohürs Lykkewe.
It's a good thing you got the chance to go one-on-one with them (especially with a 50:1 punch ratio) . I don't think that is the current style of today.
I suppose all things considered, I shouldn't complain too much about growing up in the isolation of Northern Idaho.
And we can both be thankful we aren't British. :ewww:
BTW, I think one of the best features of that picture is you wearing a polo shirt- way to make yourself stand out like a sore thumb, Macky.
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