Monday, January 25, 2010


It should have read:
"Born to Raise Hell", or "Born to Ride",
or born to do anything for Chrissakes!
But born to dye????
What was this guy?
a faggot hairdresser in biker garb?
He sat next to me in a dusty biker bar.
We were somewhere near Cody, Wyoming.
I had been on the road for a long time.
I was dusty and feeling mean.
He was a big-assed dude.
He had long greasy hair and tattoos all over his arms.
He wore colors on his vest, and I put him at about 50 years of age.
He stood at least six-foot-four, and was a burrito away from 300 lbs.
Ironically, the guy owned a boys face for a mug!
He had missing teeth when he smiled at me.
It was hilarious...I liked him right away.
We got to talkin', and bought each other a few shots and beers.
The jukebox was playin' that gawd awful country western twang.
Surprisingly, the bar started hoppin' in mid-afternoon.
I was tired from riding my Harley.
I rolled up a thousand miles the day before...
and bedded down in the cheap motel, next to the bar.
Back to the story.
The guy's name was Felix.
Not only did he have a dumb ass tattoo, but the name of a cartoon character!
When I asked him about "Born to Dye", and why it was mis-spelled,
he went into a rage.
I thought he was going to kill me!
Instead he looked me straight in the eye, and said:
"You sure it ain't spelt right?"
I said: "I'd bet my life on it, pard!"
He got up like real fast with a rage in his eyes!
I asked him where he was goin'.
He says: "Back to the damn tattoo parlor!"
"Im gonna' kill the guy who did this to me!"
After he left, I had one more shot and beer.
I thought and I thought, and decided to check out of my motel room.
I wanted to put some miles between me and Felix.
There was another adventure down the road,
I hoped it had big tits.

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