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now that's a big fat fuck...


vinyl junkie

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i spent all day screwing around at the tattoo shop today...

this guy came in late in the afternoon that was a friend of one of the tattooers... he was a big fat fuck... and a scumbag too... he started showing off the scars from all the times he's been stabbed... seven times actually, but only six left reallt noticable scars... anyway, after he's done the tattooer goes "why don't you show him where you got shot!"

dude gave him a kinda dirty look and proceeded to lift his shirt...

he had a round scar about the size of a poker chip on either side of that big nasty belly...

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when i was locked up, we were enjoying some warm sun on a spring day when homeboy took off his shirt and we were all like, "DAMN, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU???"

this cat had over 30 scars from being stabbed with a steak knife, plus a big knarly one from openheart surgery to save him and a couple a of gun shot wounds with some more surgery scars to save him.

and he wasnt fat or nothing, maybe 5'10 5'11 weighing a buck 80 and change......his torso was crazy though, a milkyway of scars from people trying to kill him.

crazy shit.

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Back During Vietnam

 

I was a hippie, and had a part-time job at this hippie restaurant called the Family Hand Restaurant. I was a bus boy. Anyway, one of our customers was a big, overweight guy named Derek, who only had one arm. He was on a big disability check from the Government because he got wounded bad in Vietnam.

Derek got arrested for possession of a controlled substance (downers, if memory serves) and he had to go to Court. He needed some help with getting dressed. I had a day job as a hospital worker, so he asked me to help him.

He came over the morning of his Court date, and brought some nice clothes (back then everybody dressed like grunge city--dirty blue jeans, rock and roll T-shirts, etc.) He took a shower, and when he came out I was shocked. I had seen some bad shit at work, but Derek had three big, huge star-shaped scars on his chest from 7.62x39mm machinegun bullets, plus the severed arm, plus bright purple jungle rot under both arms and in his crotch.

 

All I could say was "Jesus, Derek."

 

He kind of laughed, and said, "Well, at least I've still got my balls." It was a weak attempt at humor.

 

I helped him get dressed, tied his tie, pinned up the empty sleeve of the sports coat. Then I shined his cowboy boots and helped him tie his long hair back out of his face. He actually looked pretty good.

 

They re-set his Court date, and he jumped bail and left the State. I got a letter a few months later with a snapshot and a note that said "Life is Good. See you guys sometime." It was Derek in a tux and a very pretty blonde in a wedding veil and a big-ass diamond ring.

 

I sure hope things are cool for him, because if anybody deserved a little happiness, he did.

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