True Story©... I think I see where everyone has gotten it wrong before

True Story©…

Last Thursday, I told y’all I quit…

Wait, something else first.

Now don’t go telling anyone this, but “True Story©” isn’t always true. Dead ass, only one has been 95% true thus far. Anyway, I have spent the last 7+ days frustratedly explaining to people whose old asses should have fucking retired 6-10 years ago how to use a set of pretty simple-to-use softwares in exchange for plenty enough money to have decent credit and a mortgage that doesn’t know what a late fee looks like.

Fuck that… I didn’t quit my job, because Ava likes new shit as much as I do.

What I DID do, however, was plan.

My dude Jamal – a cat owner for most of the 15+ years we’ve been friends – got a dog last week. She is a Beagle from a rescue organization. What he had to shield from them was that he had bigger plans, including becoming the first proprietor of a Beagle fighting ring. They came to his house to make sure there were no signs of animal abuse or none of that (no Pitbulls or none of that shit), so I had to coach him to the right language.

Once those funny-smelling white women left his crib though, we had the plans laid out. Every Beagle owner in Greensboro willing to put their money where their mouth is will meet us on the north side to talk about it.

This is where my readers come in…

I need y’all to help us keep this thing moving. Beagles for this will only go on for so long, we will need to make this shit more interesting than an annoying-ass bark. Enter the concept of Pitbeagles. Jamal has a female Beagle. We can get her pregnant with a Pitbull’s puppy. If we can get one other person to agree to let their female Pitbull get pregnant with a Beagle’s litter, then breed the respective litters’ outcomes with one another, then mix one male from each litter with the original female from the previous, THEN just let them self-populate from there then we will have a sub-breed of dog that I have already named “PitBeagles.” No one would be the wiser about a dogfighting ring of clinically insane dogs inbred in my homeboy’s garage.

We will make a damned KILLING! Money made in a fucked up puppy mill will be made, plus gambling revenue from what the puppy mill creates. We can NOT lose!

Oh, and the first rule of fight club…


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