To sum up this story:
Four friends stroll up to the classiest trailer park in Navarre. You know the one… you can smell the mold that grows evenly across the exterior of each single and doublewide from a mile away. They knock on several doors looking to buy a fat sack, which is totall acceptable; they probably hadn’t smoked in at least 8 hours. After one neighbor tried to make a sale, the four hoodlums ran off with the weed. Who knew Mr. Quincy had a 4-wheeler parked in the front, ready to ride? He ran over 2 men who suffered serious stab wounds from the wooden knives he duck-taped to the 4-wheeler’s tires and fenders in an effort to channel Ben-Hur. The other two victims, Poquonda and Wohshanda Brown, suffered serious facial industries after Mr. Quincy beat the shit out of their faces with rake, an old door knob, and a dead rattle snake that got caught in the lawnmower.
Gotta love Navarre! It’s so classy!
February 28th, 2008 at 11:41 pm
something like that.
let’s move to that trailer park ahha
love you, x 7 !