By kiki
I've been having trouble getting around the house in the last week or so. Getting more withered and sere by the day, and if things weren't bad enough, I get a freaking jury summons. I ain't going. They can come for me and put my withered ass en el bote. And if any of the homies en la cárcel want to shake me down for money or smokes, I'll tell them not to mess with me; I'll let them know that I'm busted for purse snatching that I am one badass old dude. Of course, though, I'll be shaking in my boots when I tell the homies that.
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