Your stories are probably better than mine.
When I went off to college my cousin who is more like my brother went out west looking to become an actual biker. Prospected and everything. He always had a heart murmur growing up but the drugs in his lifestyle made it worse so he had to go into the hospital for open heart surgery.
Shortly before that was to happen one biker shot and killed another at one of their parties. The cops told him if he didn’t testify he was going to jail. Of course if he did testify he was a dead man. And he has to go into the hospital for open-heart surgery. Meanwhile his hot Puerto Rican wife was fooling around with his best friend.
So he goes into surgery and the first person he sees when he comes to afterwords is his wife who tells him that she wished he had died on the operating table. So as soon he could my cousin fled the state and went back home to his brother’s trailer in New York State where he was effectively hiding out.
At this moment in time I too returned to New York state from where I have been living in New Mexico, to see my family again before I took off for Africa. And there was my cousin, who is more like my brother, with a big freaking Frankenstein incision down the middle of his chest, looking out the window every time a car went by in case it was the Cops.
At least his best friend was considerate enough to ship him back his Harley, motorcycles being important after all.
That’s where I left him when I left, but in the years I was gone I guess whatever happened all blew over and was over. Now he’s fat and married and still alive, and still is my brother.So I guess it’s all good.
Dang, nary a stripper in this whole story, his wife was pretty hot tho 🙂
