Didn't think I was fit to be tied and left upside down, again, but they just left me there.

With bumps. No, not the regular ones--being green with scales and all, but the kind from all the hitting.

Maann, and wouldncha know it. I'd be strung up and hung down like a horny-toad beanpole. This time around, though, I guess they meant business, huh?

A coupla biker Shravekk demons, probably kicked out of Hell's Angels for overloading on the footlongs and all the seven-pound burritos.

The You-can't-make-yer-Harley-hold-your-truck-like-that:wait-isthat-yer-ass?-clause.

All 'cause I said something like "Don't need to go to Pinks for some wieners. You look like you already ate the owners."

Thought it was funny, too. 'Course I was kinda flying high and mighty with this crap from this bar offa Sunset that was supposedly gin-yoowine Morroxh ale.

Kicked my face in a coupla times. A couple more after that. Maan, that hurt a lot. (groan)

Probably didn't help when one of them just came at me with, like, a mace or something, like- duude, shit, Angel, it had spikes!

That hurt a lot, too.

So I guess I didn't try to front. But you shoulda been there, man. 'Cause for a second there I was like 'Yeah. Yeah, I got the stones.'

That was probably right before my skull caved in.

Shooot, I probably would've kicked their asses, too, if it weren't for that nosebleed you gave me last week...

Huh, weell-- guess that's it. And I never got to show that chick who's working for you (--works with you, worked for you!?? What the hell's your problem, maann?--) a really good time.

You'd be surprised. Don't strike out as much as you'd think with the ladies.

Maan, guess I should say I didn't.