killing the devils escort Novel to script

Killing the Devil’s Escort

Preface: Death penalty

It was an overpriced piece of “Modern Shit,” and the latest substantial gift from SWMU boosters somberly praying to acquiesce. Desperate to hear that once familiar soothing victory chant, Stallions are the champs, replaying in their mind, Alumni ardently attempted to cast monetary clout with a brand spanking new investment of point keeping, as one player puts it, “The most kick ass scoreboard ever,” on the Stallions’ in zone. This Booster Club raised enough funds to feed Africa but, somehow only managed to conjure a state of the art 1992 scoreboard.

No wins in seven years would make a once spend happy dominant collegiate football team sink so desperately low that money boosters would result to brazen spending in order to gain respect. Have it flaunt it, right? Forgive me. I am not a good narrator. A little back story is due hear so, let me elaborate.

SWMU, South Western Masonic University, became the first and only recipient of the Collegiate Athletic Associations’ death penalty. The defining rule passed down by a committee made South Western Masonic University’s football team ineligible for competition. SWMU football was banned from any form of competition in the league for four years and on probation two years after that. The football team would be part of a board imposed probation resulting in the loss of fifty five scholarship positions over the course of four years.

The Death Penalty was initially and swiftly dealt out as a way to show what would happen to repeat violators. They get the literal bureaucratic homicide. The NCAA condemned this, “Ivy of the South,” with their harshest blow. The board felt SWMU extensively shattered every rule to sway top ranked graduating high school seniors into their sports program. Recruiting rumors jumped across campuses until amazingly cultivated tales of white nose numbing devil powder and big city strippers clashed with the moralizing 1980’s suburban homestead. Nothing was exonerated in the potentially worst display of disgusting money sucking power hungry Institutional cowboys. Clinging to retain some glimpse of a legacy relying on attempted signing of major college athletes. This whole thing means you’re worth something. The players were worth major bread and it’s the first time they knew exactly how much.

Stallion players participated in cultish orgies suspended from thousand dollar drug tabs. Extravagant X-rated stories broke like fine china against ears of these prenatal NFL stars. Free exotic cars and all expense paid trips to Gentlemen Clubs given out to “Blue Chips,” the eighteen year old boy men. Poor guys had the look of yearning for independence and big city lights with a woman that might be. Quickly a man has to learn how to expect people willing to give anything for a win. There is no plea-bargaining in winning just a vending machine dumping out for your exemplarity talent. High school seniors suddenly realize it’s on. And they better start earning your accepted manhood.

Four years prior to the obnoxious constructing of team facilities that left teachers asking, “Where is the school?” Every building was dwarfed compared to the massive stadium taking up every inch of its freshly demolished cod trade of space. There was a barrage of complaints to the NCAA followed by a handful of anonymous tips. The best part is SWMU recruiting coaches’ offices that leaked budgets too big for the Colleges football team’s entire yearly allowance spent on one player. It was true, all of it was true. The rumors made up were not audaciously fabricated what so ever. The “We are God” Boosters spent more than a quarter of a million dollars on dumb, full of cum, eighteen year old star high school football players.

News paper documents spread extensively until testimonies of former players ratting out coaches and coaches ratting out their superiors bled through sports media. The only thing that had to be done was a revamping of the entire Football Coaching staff. That is almost all of them. Ninety nine point nine percent of them, with the exception of Doc, the teams’ veteran sports therapist.

Recruits were forced to get up in front of their parents and point out strip club bouncers as eye witnesses to carnal delights they deviated from explaining on every previous instance. Parents and players sat in the witness stand spilling beans and absolutely admitting every ounce of evidence in an attempt to save their jobs and reputations. The standing evidence states that SWMU boosters and recruiting coaches went above and beyond great lengths in to try and accommodate every star player’s financial needs to the ninth degree. These Naive men found that their signature brought physical pleasures and financial stability for life. That alone is enough to tempt any debating senior to joining the Stallion team.

When a team goes undefeated for a few years straight people become dying to know what makes up that winning machine. What’s their secret? Money, that’s it so simple how it is everything and anything. After numerous testimonies allegations washed out to be true. It was the evil eighties and, as for the devil, I’ll sit back and omnisciently ponder how his nose got so red.

Effects of Testosterone: Chapter 1- Urine Sample

Conquered three hundred pound men bumble pass their coaches with noodle legs barely keeping them steady. Soaking wet players are doing everything possible to take in the horizon’s left over fumes. This particular day was the hottest august afternoon the city has on record. Exhausted, the players look up at a hypnotizing cocktail of revelry staring Verdun, the miniature pony and teams’ official gimpy excuse for a mascot plays out above the Stallion end zone.

The touchdown montage ends with the explosion of an atomic spheroid hog bladder. One hundred and eight degrees slides by on the LED as the expanding horizon squelches and radiates into a mirage of fumes rippling under the brutal sun. Stallion football players heave oxygen keeping them from passing out on the turf field. The sun left colors glistening and vibrating in the surrounding air. The young and willful men pause before whistle chirp sucking and sipping in a cool gust that blows by.

The new arena was surrounded by metal stands that could house about one hundred thousand violently drunk fans. The Stadium was closed at this time of day. Partially to protect the teams’ line up of offensive plays but also to protect the drunk Greek clubs from showing up at practice and distracting the players from opposing teams scouts no one would be caught dead perched in those radiantly glowing perfectly empty stands. The temperature is high enough to set a person’s wranglers on fire and fry any bare skin coming in contact with those steel chairs to a shriveled pork rind.

The team’s mascot, a white Stallion, was painted on a score board acquired through the school’s most prevalent donor. Somehow, a mustang on the score board looks more like a retarded miniature Pony then the majestic wild horse it’s meant to portray. The Ponies have the worst record in the league for the past three years and one could draw the conclusion a less then authentic cartoony horse has something to do with it.

Paul has the body of a grown man with the brain of an adolescent, looks at the digital thermometer looming scoreboard. It reads one hundred and forty degrees Fahrenheit. Whistles belt out short loud chirps. The coach growls out an order, “Alright, stop for a fifteen second break!” Paul puts his hands over his head and slowly controls a deep breath. His body is grotesquely muscular and his head is shaved cleanly bald. Players struggle to encourage other teammates hunched down huffing and puffing. Paul “come on get up let’s go guys! Two more then we’re done!” Short, rigid and hairy Coach Benet blows his whistle. “Sprint you pussies!” Spit flies out his mouth as he biting down on the whistle and speaking simultaneously, “Move your asses or everyone is getting two more laps.” Benet’s face glows bright red and blood vessels swell on his throat. “I want to see you winning this year.”

Players drag their feet and attempt to stay focused as heat waves ripple off the stadium like a hot cup of Joe. “Oh, yea baby I’m cold! Burrr!” Sidney shivers then transforms into a wild dog. “Ruff, Sidney snarls and barks at the teams’ slowest and chubbiest tackle. A Former Cowboy’s linebacker and it’s easy to see he’s the biggest man on the field. He’s got weird style but wears it well. A tall afro connected to the back by a small rat tail braided and sticking out like a post above three separate sized shiny necklaces that match his gold ear rings. He claps his hands chest muscles bounce and stretch the pink tank top with black tiger paws on it. “Push it! Let’s go!” Sidney runs up to the fattest lineman and slaps the linemen’s slow plump sweaty ass. The whistle gives out one long last chirp. “Alright good job, get in here.”

The team runs to circle up on head coach Benet . “Take a knee.” They snap off helmets then shoulder pads and Benet twirls a whistle around his pointer finger. He brushes down a Yosemite Sam mustache then rests his chin thinking as a copper bracelet slides down his arm. The sweat and skin alchemized a visible green stain around his wrist. “All the losers and tit suckers get off my fucking field. “ The team struggles to catch wind. He points up to the thermometer. “I know it’s hot, you can take it, right?” The team responds with a massive “yes sir.” He takes off his ten gallon straw hat. “If you can’t’, go play tennis or soccer because this is a man’s sport.” Sweat drips in his eye and he doesn’t blink. “If you want to play for me, you better bust your ass!” He spits the wipes down his mustache. “Don’t cramp up. I’m tired of players having to get I.V.’s.” Paul squirts cold water on his face. “Get hydrated before practice. Drink a Gatorade right when you wake up a lot of you boys are looking pretty fatigued you knew it was going to be hot so suck it up.” He looks over at Coach Sidney who is shuffling through his fanny pack. “Coach Sidney, anything to add?” Coach Sidney steps forward cracks open a quick whiff of ammonia meant to give power lifters a head rush before throwing weight in the air. Sidney snorts in the strong scented break stick then snarling he growls at the players around him. “I’m going to bench five hundred pounds twice then hit the showers, I got swamp ass.” The team laughs. “Alright, everybody up on me let’s get in here and get a loud as fucking break.” The players enclose on Benet shoving each other as the bounce around with pure testosterone. “Break it out three. One, two, three, the team joins in Mustangs!” As the players disperse Paul picks up his helmet and shoulder pads. “Paul, come here a minute I want to talk to you.” Paul runs to the sideline where his coach stands now accompanied by Sidney and three other assistant coaches.

Paul, “Yes sir?” The assistant coaches silently stare at him judging the “Boy-Man” from head to toe. Sidney looks at Benet. “Doc needs to see you.” Paul, ok, just give me a few minutes. I got to take a shower.” Benet sighs. “Why don’t you just go ahead and hustle straight to Doc’s.” Hesitantly Paul replies, “Sure.” As instantaneous as Paul turns and jogs to the exit assistant coaches snivel spitting out chew and relentlessly shooting fast glances back and forth. An assistant coach looks at Benet.” It’s a damn shame on that’s boy family, him Losing everything on account of stupidity. I’d be mad as hell at my boy if I was his Paw…” Another assistant coach spits out a slab of chewing tobacco. “Coming home with his tail tucked between his legs.” Benet, “Come on now guys, he’s going have to get a job pumping gas somewhere.” All the coaches’ share in an elongated laugh but, Sidney slows his chuckle sooner than the rest.

He enters Doc’ Junior’s office. Three football players walk in before a dainty metro sexual tennis player. Hey Doc can I get a shoulder rub I think it came loose twice today. Not now Don, just go ice it for now. Don trots to the whirlpool room towards the back of the complex. Paul opens the door after taking off his shoes then starts a slow walk in before being immediately greeted by Doc. Doc, Hey Paul let’s go into my office. Paul stops, looks around and notices everyone is fixated on his actions. Doc’s eyes shift avoiding everyone around to the point he is looking directly at the ground. Doc’s office door opens and a vacuumed sealed room suddenly exhales its’ hidden sixty seven degree room. Doc holds the door open for Paul disturbing the temperature in the training facility its enclosed in by glass walls. Doc’s office sits in a class a training and rehab center banked in like a fish tank.

The inside of Docs office is pristine. Like a commercial set for some cleaning agent. Certain books in his shelf glisten making it surreal and almost fake clean or just impeccably kept. It’s got a motif the seemingly suggests that a professional cleaner comes every hour on the hour and signs their name after having thoroughly sanitizing everything on spot. It had a verifying the comforting feeling one would come to naturally love, believe and feel safe in. Scholarly looking papers hang framed and certified on the wall behind Doc. (foot note 1)

The “Doc” takes in a deep breath, “Paul something came up in your urine. Son, do you know the damage that steroids do to the human condition?” Doc watches for Paul’s’ reaction. He breathes after Paul shows no sign of aggression. “chemicals found in your specimen have been linked to some serious side effects. I know you’re not a fool why did you do this?” Paul looks at the floor and picks at his cuticles. Paul, “I wanted to play I wanted my leg to heal faster ah I don’t know.” His chin quiver and the large body looks shaking and scared. “Paul, these drugs can take their toll mentally physically and emotionally.” Paul thought about each needle that went through his skin and began to swallow down the painful thoughts. He then thought of the monster that gave him nightmares as a kid. A tall green faced freak of an old man would hardly scare him yet then, as a child, the sight of the man a horror movie his father had stashed in the closet terrified the living daylights out of Paul. “Funny” Paul thought to himself how his fears have transformed dramatically over the past ten years. He imagined his body turning green and mutating freakishly with each word leaving Doc’s thin pink lips. “Your gains were not real Paul. You understand that using illegal steroids is cheating right?” Paul looks up for the first time since entering Doc’s office. “You cheated and for that we are going to have to kick you off the team. Your scholarship has been suspended until further review. I’m going to be honest with you since this school got the death penalty it rarely makes exceptions to any of the NCAA’s guidelines, let alone those pertaining to urine analysis.” Paul fidgets and returns to his finger nails that were already chewed to the nub. “I’m sure you know what was in your system but, in case you didn’t here is a copy of the test results and here is your letter from the Board. Your levels of testosterone were exceedingly high.” Paul’s head hangs in his hands. They found traces of four types of anabolic steroids along with a high level of winstrol the same drug they shoot in racehorses before they went to the track. What were you thinking? Still his thought leapt back to a time more distracting. The picture of his parents came to life in his mind. They began looking at him with discontent and judging him as he carried his belonging back into his childhood home. Finally he breaks silence. “Paul, does this mean I’m getting kicked off the team?” His eyes look right up at Doc’s. You think I didn’t know what I was doing well your right I feel stupid now. I wish I hadn’t done them. Hell I quit taking them before the season started that should count for something. Well they are still in your system Paul. I’m sorry really sorry You don’t understand Paul starts to cry You can’t take my scholarship away. Now Paul this doesn’t mean you are getting kick out of school this just mean you can’t participate with the team

Paul suddenly has a flash back his entire athletic career. He laughed as it topples in his mind. “Is something funny doc inquired?” It was funny because to him all the memories clung to one another wrapped in sweat and sacrifice. He thought them he would be known as a cheater and an outcast. There is nothing funny about your situation doc repeated. It’s funny yeah its funny. Funny isn’t it? “A coach gave me those steroids. Paul looks past doc and at Sidney who was helping a female tennis player of the examining table and across the white linoleum floor. He picks up his shoe. “Paul, are saying a coach provided you these steroids. If you want to give me a name the board might look at that in your favor.” Sidney peers at Paul from the outside room and shakes his head a stern fashion. Do you want to give me a name Paul? Paul looks back at Doc. Nothing I say will change situation here. We could fill out a form of misconduct. They might side with giving you back your scholarship. Just give me a name. Doc pleads with Paul as Sidney Paced by the office. Why’d you do it son. Paul, I wanted start, be a player part of the team not somebody riding the pine. Doc, I’m going to recommend you to a Psychiatrist I know. I’m sorry Paul but you made the decision maybe if you bring out some names the board will give your scholarship another review. Until you provide a viable explanation your off the team. Doc shuffles uneasily afraid of Paul’s response and uncertain of his own next move. He finally pulls out a card and slides it across the table to Paul. His name is Doctor Shoelburger he’s a good friend and you can tell him anything in complete confidence. I’ve cried over his shoulder before. Doc Pauses and adjusts his chair. This was over my former wife of course. Always get prenuptial son. You’re saving money in the long run trust me you don’t want to pay for a trophy wife.

(Trophy wife- foot note)A trophy wife as defined is always disputed. Some say blonde with particular height and weight requirements. Typically the name is defined under American History. Only this term could be used as a byproduct of the United Nations. What Doc refers to is, something a older more established man acquires as a pretext or sometimes carrying after the Purchase of an expensive automobile. A trophy wife is often referred to as a bi product of a man’s mid life crisis. Many odd facsimiles follow that loss of hair and testosterone now prematurely awarded to Paul. At this point he thought I’d do everything to escape these depressive thoughts of horrifically brutal stupidity. Still he contained an aura of light soft and evoking a smile. Trained like a pup to look at pretty things and appreciate beauty without taking into account the roses many thorns hid in those tangle of weeds.

“If there is a…” Doc pauses, “some random person a coach perhaps that supplies steroids here it’s going to be your word against his.” It would help if you had as many people as you can that could attest to your character and upbringing. You know like former coaches, relatives, teach and even preach if that should apply. You need people you know at this juncture in your life son. Take the card and contact this man. You have to go now son, get your belonging and don’t try to keep a helmet. Paul stands and looks down on Doc for the first time in the entire conversation. I don’t want your fucking helmet even though I feel I have already earned it. Don’t let the steroids go to your head son. “I’m not your son don’t you want this card. He’s probably your last chance. Paul, “keep it.” The word son condescendingly rung in the back of Paul’s’ ear like banging drums he felt that the sound did quite settle with his building animosity towards authority.

Paul walks out of Doc’s office wanting badly to break anything in his path to destroy his feeling of lost hope. His shoulder bumps into Sidney rounding the corner. Hey what’s good brother. Hey fuck you. I hope you didn’t try and spread any lies. You said it would be out of my system. lets not talk about this here. Why not you said that you could guarantee I would play. Now I’m kicked off the team. You got results if it wasn’t for me coaches wouldn’t even remember your name. Little pip squeak bitch! I made you a man. You was nothing a nobody, just a number on the sideline. Now I’m not even a number You owe me. If you’re thinking about saying my name Paul, screw you. Get off your pitty pot. You fucking baby. I didn’t make you do anything. You fed the shit to me like candy. You knew what you were doing you’re a man. Start acting like it.” Sidney replies obnoxiously smirking. Paul swings at Sidney missing his face and slamming his fist into the wall behind him. Sidney grabs Paul by the throat and holds him still with a massive grip. Keep my name out your mouth bitch or I’ll make you regret it.’ His eyes were red with fury Paul turns around and walks away from Sidney. Sidney puts his hand to his mouth; don’t forget you still owe me four hundred dollars. Sidney grins satisfied as Paul leaves the locker room. Paul then turns around. You know what fuck you screwed me im not paying you back. Oh yeah you going to pay. Sidney starts popping his knuckles. I’m going to take it out on your candy ass boy. Paul’s swings and Sidney ducks then counters knock Paul off his feet with a right hook that sounded like two flat boards of lumber slapped together. Paul takes the hit and somehow manages to pop back up after being nearly knocked unconscious. Paul blinks and that was the signal to his nose. He licks his lips and tastes blood.

The warm copper flavor immanently warns of danger and his face stun the knot across his nose turning it into a warped mushroom shape. Paul blinks and gathers his balance and as if that was the cue to turn on a spout his nose furiously drips blood. Paul’s blood splatters the floor with each giant maroon drop. Suddenly cogent and it enters the room. Paul Days Inn eyes watering you factor PC shade you told me to take them you said they would be out of my system in a month or minute is this true ball every benefits come all Paul don't do this here called you live your life to me and talk entrusted you from Sidney you wanted the spot and you knew what you did to Phoenix coach minute Cindy get out of this office get the fark out of here. Sidney Blairs shut up old man doing that coach and this ain't a team pocket and the school race you win you want to games in two years it's a waste of my time heads up the doors as the doors swing shut a Paul Pope think this is over I might get my little son about pitch coach minute picks up the phone coach minute get security and a woman, back in the stores and Paul U. John to Paul puts his hands on the said on my to do so have established it minimal that's not my problem sign you're the one who did the illegal drugs. You knew this would happen.

Throwing open the “Bo” facility doors hot august air rushed in blowing Paul’s hair back. The sun hit his face and his stomach turned he looked at the tall statue of Bo Walter shining as the largest human figure near the stadium’s entrance. The statue frowned at him but what the fuck did he care. Bo is living the high life off his alumni connections. Paul thought to himself maybe if he hadn’t of listened to Sidney his career as a mustang would not be over. He’s always done stupid shit like that he thought to himself over his lifetime how many times has he been a gullible bastard A weight was lifted off Paul’s shoulders and he stood tall after thinking that for once he would be able to sleep late in the morning. It was something he used to do before starting the 5 am workouts. "Who was he kidding? He didn’t love the sport and the more he thought about Bennett’s bright red face and sinister mustache the more he was ok with the thought of not being on the team.

What he knew he couldn’t do was tell his parents. He did not want to appear to them that anything was off. He knew he was going to have to tell them he was not on the team. The question that boggled him was how he would present the information to them in a fashion that would keep them on his side. He’s dead he thought. Deader than the losers that over night at the grocery store. Without his scholarship stipends he could no longer afford his home. Job, the word sparked synapses of corporate images. They drug test as well. Paul had experience working as a cook in high school and it was a hard way to earn a buck. He could smell the fryer cooking and see the c hungry faces in the back of his mind. Then he saw it clear as the Brass Bo statue. He saw it a fresh dollar. That’s what he needs he thought.

(Bo Waltz foot note)- Bo was the most athletic of three sons. He was born to a single parent home in Hill Park Texas. In set on the suburbs of Dallas and was known publicly to be the wealthiest community in Texas. Despite the fact that his father left the family when he was only three at such a young age Bo was an over achiever. First round second pick by the 1957 Cincinnati Bengals picked him. and playing so well he was accepted into the hall of fame. There is a saying that Bo waltz was as golden as golden gets. His knees can’t really say the same thing. He can barely walk and his buddy Jimmy Dale Frayne is dead. Paul thought at least he didn’t have to deal with the pains and ales the game takes on a man. Some say one year in the NFL can take off as many as five years off a young man’s life. Still he felt fucked and something about the whole deal smelt rotten to him. He felt he had been stabbed in the back when literally he had been.

(Doc’s Foot note) Doc makes up an entire lineage of trainers working in sports medicine. His father was a trainer for the Bears and his father before him a trainer for the Packers. They were all dapper men claiming wives as mere puppets to lead on straight coaches who have always hired them on their remarkably inviting personalities. Doc senior did not receive any special training nor did he go through any specific course to obtain his job. He simply gave Vince Lombardy a blow job. That brings up the question of whether mere circumstance played into a lineage of bisexual football coaches bread into the business by men that couldn’t face society’s rejection of their homosexuality. At least one could arrive at the conclusion that these coaches felt comfortable around a particular breed of men so much so they provided jobs of rank to them for three generations. Their names are Doc, Doc sr. and Doc. Jr..

Chapter 2 – How to play at 100 percent

Sidney’s apartment was something like a dude pad. Nothing in the apartment was his except for a print of a painting on the wall which Sidney went to great lengths to describe as art mainly as an excuse to remind his guest that was his. Yet he was in Sidney’s house and felt surrounded by a fortress of trust.

Sidney walks out of his restroom with a purple Igloo lunch kit. “Oh you know I got all the good shit in here son.” Sidney speaks with and authoritarian tone. As Sidney unzips his cooler lunch kit he begins to name off every drug he pulls from the igloo. Sidney: ”Valiums Deca, Durabol, Diamabol, Anovar, Test 250, and Test 500. Sidney pauses to separate the drugs he is giving to Paul. “Which, I don’t do this, it has too much alcohol in it. Where ever you hit it I did it and it made me sore as shit. Sidney sets the tiny bottles of high powered testosterone across from the rest of the pill sacks and bottles. He then continues to sift through his Igloo lunch box of illegal goodies. “Let’s see Winnie, HGH, took me a long time to get my hands on this, “I’m just waiting to take it.” Sidney rolls his shoulders back. “This shit here turns you into a god son. It gives you mutant blood.” Sidney starts laughing satanically and Paul smiles. He lays out all the drugs on a shot up 1980s bottle top living room table. The setting was amazing with a wide variety of different illegal substance sure to transform a skinny young man into a full blooded killing machine.

“Now I wouldn’t start with all these just yet. Sidney starts to stutter and for the first time looks unsure about what he just said. I mean you are going to want to stack them but you got to stack them rightboy” I see it is you got a broken leg so, you will be out about 6 to 7 months which is perfect for you to pyramid these muscle in hancers. When I was younger I used to pop the in my chest right before a heavy work out session on the corner around the corner from a liquior store I swigged that sweet juice right after I juiced up at the gym. Only had to do 6 set of 5000 on bench to get a good pump three times my weight that’s when twice every time a day I was i was rejoicing twice a day like that time I could couaght that cat fish at the pond with a turkey sandmich as bait that no tackle shop could ever sale cuas they don’t have lettuce tomatoe pickles mustard and mayo. He points out the different drugs on the table to get your strength back. All of these you you can do all these in seven month shit you should have seen what ive been on how do you think got these fucking guns. Protein shakes. Sidney flexes his biceps at Paul and veins bulge out as he holds up his arms. Do you think they will drug test me. Come on man this shit will be out your system in a month if you drink a lot of water and keep your body fat down you will be fine. Sidney pulls a piece of gum out of his pocket and starts to unwrap it. Want one. Sure Sidney tosses Paul a piece of Gum. Following up the silence is a loud pop. Sidney smacks his gum. How did you get all this? Paul looks down at Sidney’s’ collection of illegal substances. I took a trip down to Mexico with a few friends. I was a little nervous crossing the border. Nearly shit the burritos out my pants when they brought the dog to sniff out car but they never found the stash. Don’t remember much after that the valiums kicked in on the ride home. Sidney Chuckles as he takes a valium out the bag and examines the small blue pill. That was one hell of a trip in Mexico Paul they have the most beautiful women plus, they are dirt cheap.

I’ve had these for a while so I’ll give you a good price. You don’ have to pay me now for all of it just a few hundred by a year or under you have it all paid up I know your good for it. “Tell you what you know would be good for you start with 2 days a week pop a half a cc in each arme. Yeah Mondays right arm thurs do the other arm. Do a four week cycle of that by thefourth week stack a couple of these a dayyes I do my quiet apartment chaps my biceps and/or use a clean needle every time you do it pay check this out soon... Patricia and beside Paul revealed in the salt off 12gauge pump shotgun with a pistol grip handle this is not a big ride here to send the robbers straight to heaven or hell word to God only keep about three shows in this one but I got to M-16's and the regard 45s say for my bedroom will doesn't know what to say is his father's only between two riflemen Stephen Tomei crippled uncle as saying that his uncle's name engraved on the handle and was more for peace shooters that have military key kill weapon Sydney brought another level to Paul and the level of hard a new level of something that had never found hard soft needs Sidney seen some ship and taken advantage of as its financial investments it was Sinbad's bodyguard in the 80s also rented out to various other celebrities some bad Arsenio Hall equipped the bot equipped the celebrity bodyguard business when he was shot in a 5 x 35 around slowly went straight through his leg in the Mrs. bone and singer described as the worst payment is locking never once heard a management and baldness sickness nightmare .

Now you take a seven week cycle of this pin on the seventh week you need to stack it with peace tell you what go ahead and have all of these people don't worry about it I give it all to you for $1000 probably about $5000 worth of steroids Paul reaches into his pocket I have this $600 okay will give me that now and just only 401 of you get it no rush out of it is value in serving others prefer Sydney sort of feverishly repackaging all the drugs back into the igloo.

Hey well we need to get done with this deal before my wife gets home: it is a really needed all of these strokes Paul had to get the full package she had to get all the drugs and Sidney was given a share he got them every single thing until you load all you does go to the invisible thing that is detailing the you can have it as my gift to human ticket as well as products from Santos singing in the Arizona State is run a back rub and while there. Inner souls screamed as Paul Graham grab the igloo school lunch key at lead challenges in love.

He had been body building since thirteen and that fist adolescent pubic hair sprouted out the surface of his bare virgin skin. (foot note- Body building) I am behind you .