There I was, strumming on my guitar. The mist was thick, and vision was poor. Slowly I put down my guitar, because it seemed the noise being made was not from the sweet sounds of my POWER e - chords. It was the noise made by the most lowly creature known to man...the vile bushy tail.

I reached for my home-grown herb and rolled a nice brown cig, and lit it up with a brother's zippo that I had borr(stolen)owed. A good SLM man must always have his zippo close at hand.

That's when the eyes...
those cold, dark, staring eyes caught me by suprise...
I cringed and grabbed my COLT!
forty that is...
Today I was not up for a fight,
but, the enemy was near.
In fear, I took cover!
Yet, I could not cower.
It was time to die...

I mustered all the courage in me, and pulled the top off and took a deep swig of nectar. The bleeding hour was near. He rushed me! In slow motion I moved, my swing swift, and the blood was drawn. It was warm,... and that's COOL. The creature wrenched and wiggled in its bloody alcholic grave. And I was alive, and victorious. God smiled upon my wrath of vengence.

Marc "40 Ounce"

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