Hello, constituents of Palms. This is your mayor speaking. I had relinquished the title out of shame, after my building's new owners, Monem Co., began their campaign to gentrify me out of my beloved apartment, but since my neighbor Fuji decided to move in exchange for close to 20 grand in relocation money, I got the call from my representative pencilneck to tell me that they were calling the dogs off. And believe me, there was a point in negotiations when I could have taken a fat sum to hit the road myself. But ladies and gentlemen, your mayor is not for sale. I am a servant of the people.
That, or an idiot who turned down 10 grand to continue to live in a neighborhood where sweaty-faced delinquents spray chicken-scratch on your wall in broad-ass daylight. We were watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, for fuck's sake. Fuji claims to have caught the offenders in the act and socked two of them in their respective faces, a claim none of us can verify since we all got word of developments after the Griswolds had shuffled off-screen, but seems plausible enough considering a) Fuji was quite drunk and b) is a complete maniac. He is an ex-gangbanger from the side of L.A. that created the shit, so he takes this kind of thing extremely personally.
Being distantly related to at least one of the suspects, he stumbled down Westwood to bang on the doors of the various "unties" of theirs who normally harbor these whelps when they're not deep in the bowels of juvenile hall. I had to run upstairs and put his wife up to speed, who barrelled out the house, apron on, and brought the hammer of Thor down upon him. I feel no shame for squealing. It's the seventeen-year-olds that will flip and shoot you. They think this is all a video game.
Being distantly related to at least one of the suspects, he stumbled down Westwood to bang on the doors of the various "unties" of theirs who normally harbor these whelps when they're not deep in the bowels of juvenile hall. I had to run upstairs and put his wife up to speed, who barrelled out the house, apron on, and brought the hammer of Thor down upon him. I feel no shame for squealing. It's the seventeen-year-olds that will flip and shoot you. They think this is all a video game.
I must be getting old, because I ran these exact streets as a sweaty-faced delinquent, and I've never heard of a P/S BFGC gang. And that was back in the '90s, when being broke was fashionable. Don't the kids want to pretend they're rich now? What is P/S anyway? It's W/S - West Side; E/S - East Side, etc. What the hell is P/S? Pouch Side? Pool Side? Pool Side Gangstas?
Later in the evening a couple of lovely ladies took me to Saints for a couple of tasty drinks, then I hit La Cabana for the pork plate. I was woken around 4am at my sisters' place next door by what was either heartburn, or something that sounded like a spraycan being shaken in the Cafe Brasil parking lot. I walked downstairs to finish the night in my own bed, but not before running into Fuji, who apparently heard the spraycan sound as well, and leapt out of bed, landed in his sneakers, and ran downstairs to catch them in the act.
I'm dead when this guy moves.
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