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I ran into this crazy freakish bastard on a job site circa late 80s. I’m always drawn to the funky interesting cats that don’t fit the mold. The outsiders. I do’t know if I feel sorry for them being shunned or if I’m facinated or a bit of both. This guy was the full monte. Personality, crazy, skinny, gaunt and pale due to a brain embolism 2 years before. The dude got hit with the ugly bat too from the get go, but he didn’t give up, and he had heart. I liked him very much.
He was the other guy that got blamed for sleeping in an area we never were in post http://daveka.com/green-socks. As I said previously I quit after that incident and Bobby quit too. We headed to Illinios to his girlfriend’s pad with a case of Barq’s.
On the way out of town after we got shitty tatoos, he turn to me and says, “I wish this was the old west.”
I ask, “Why?”
“Because you can shoot fucker’s and get away with it!”
