Last night, ol’ DB may have had a prophetic dream: me and Steak were in the rig and haulin’ some grocerias down there in Virginia. We get there at about midnight and for some reason Steak jumps out of the rig. I realize that something is wrong with the brakes, and I pull out of the dock and start to drive around the store to test the brakes real quick. Steak thinks I am leaving him there, and for some reason he had his Bug stashed someplace (in his pocket, I guess) and starts following me in the Bug, around the store. This is where Steak leaves the dream.
Next thing I know, I am headed for a load of trouble down some 2 lane road. There’s a lot of people awake tonight, house lights are on, BBQ’s in the yard, unaware of the MURDER about to take place right down the street.
I drive passed a house, a girl and a guy are in the yard, and they start throwing eggs at Your Literary Hero’s truck. What can I do? I just keep going, the brakes are being weird. Next thing I know, there’s 5 kids running out in front of the truck. Four of them jump out of the way.
So I hear the thud and then the thuds of her body clanging underneath the truck and trailer, so I immediately pull into a gas station lot. I am not afraid at all, even though I know she’s dead, because they clearly ran out in front of me and were basically playing chicken until I got on top of them. So everyone is crying and “how can this have happened”. Police show up, I tell them my story, the remaining kids I didn’t get to kill told their story, and then things got a little odd.
I was ordered to stay at the gas station for multiple days while this investigation took place. During my time there in captivity, I could basically do whatever I wanted, and no one really watched me. This was a problem. Because the locals wanted to kick a little ass for me killing their hometown, teenage peer.
I was ridiculed and heckled for days. The mental anguish was too much for most people to bear, but I held my ground and suffered through the torment. One of the punk kids in particular was really testing my patience. He was an Asian kid, probably about 18, and he was on the clock for a haymaker or windmill punch.
I was befriended by a man who worked at the station who looked like Larry Csonka, hence all the football pics. He was a great friend…. OR SO I WAS LEAD TO BELIEVE. Turned out that Csonka was actually an undercover agent for the teenagers. He lead me into a false sense of security and then used it against me like the coward he truly is. This all came to a climax when it came time for me to battle the teenagers to prove who was right and who was wrong. This is how they settle disputes in old Virginia, which I bet you didn’t know.
So this Asian kid is running his mouth and my “FRIEND” Larry Csonka is holding me back from retaliating to his fightin’ words. Turns out that Csonka was actually holding me so the Asian could run up to me and crack a few skull bones with his Asian punching style and mean streak. Well, I broke the chains of Csonka’s oppression and I ran over to the Asian and pulled a Donovan Darius.
I gave that kid a buttload of chin kicks and head cuts and then the people of the town let me leave in peace. Turns out I guess I was right when I said she was at fault and died like a little bitch. How’s those 18 wheels taste, slapnuts?