Ales & Tales

Mama got me in NYC, don’t ask me why, Studdards ain’t big fans of the Big Apple. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve pulled some security gigs here in, when the money is right than the money is right. ‘Sides, I have a hard time tellin’ Hazy no when she asks me to watch her back. We have our differences and all but she’s still my baby’s mama – she might not think it counts for much, but it counts with me. I have a personal rule that I don’t like to come to a city where the rats are as big as pit bulls.
 
Mama tells me she’s looking for a new gig, but I don’t see it. No way she’d leave Burley, Grandma, and myself – even if the money was right. So, after a day of shopping, (job searchin’ my ass,) Mama and I are parched. We don’t even look at the name of the bar before we enter – retrospect that may have been a mistake.
 
The bar was pretty dead, didn’t look like there was any security to speak of. The exits were accessible enough, but it had terrible lighting – IERA rearin’ it’s ugly head. The main thing was the beer was cold and wet so it wasn’t all bad. Plus, the sights didn’t hurt my eyes none. There was this smokin’ hot blonde, she had this fascinating accent. I couldn’t place it, but her words lilted off her tongue like honey trickling off a spoon.
 
‘Course I bought her a beer and we were vibin’ – mighta gone somewhere too if it weren’t for these Hell’s Angels rip-off base heads startin’ to tweak. I mean, literally tweak, twitchin’ and shakin’ like well a shake weight. I lost the blonde, but I sent mama home things were about to get twiggy. Let me tell you when I see a hardcore biker chick mighty morph into a mother fuckin’ Minotaur, I'm goin' Timber!