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Saturday, April 16, 2011

You Want Truth? Get Your Own. Leave Me Out Of It.

I was with Sammy Leakus the night he OD’d. We drank pepsi and did dirty doses. We talked about hockey at some point. I don’t watch hockey, never have. I left at 9 PM to catch Congo at The Row. He was dead by the time the theater emptied and the usher swept the sticky floors.

Margaret Jensen died in a boating accident three days after giving me a handjob in the bathroom at Denny’s. It was something we both barely remember. We shared two creepers that night and avoided talking about the baby she lost the year before. That fat fuck Bob Love got drunk and backed over her in his Rinker. I never figured if Bob Love was his real name.

As it turns out me and Bob Love came to blows in a country bar over Margaret’s passing. His wife jumped in and I socked her too. Bob Love died three weeks later of a massive heart attack in his filthy hot tub. To imagine the depravity that transpired in that hellish whirlpool. Good riddance.

Me and Rich Angler shot pheasant at his uncles land. He had some long cigarettes and dirty nails. He fell in with a bank robbing crew and they got shot up out front of the Sinclair station on A. He didn't die though. He’s doing a long stint in Oshkosh, from what I’ve heard.

My girlfriend in high school died of cancer. It was a sad thing.

And that tweaker Eoin McMurphy got into rehab and is six year sober. He does oil changes at Benton Auto in Millard, has a wife and two kids. All signs point to him living a long and happy life.

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