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grew up on a sugar plantation just south of the old general store. When i was about 6 my pop bought a new steer to haul are asses from the south to the land of new opportunity of California. There we took up the business of 'coon hunting. I used to take my two coon hunting dogs and we would fetch us a plump ass coon to bring back to the fur store. After my dogs were shot by Big Henry, I was about 14. I decided there was nothing in my life so I left California and moved to the good ole' state of Nevada. There I joined a silver mine. All day i mined for silver and at the end of the day I would roll my cigarette, take out my knife and cut the peppered roast that I bought a couple of days back from the Italian butcher. I slowly at my peppered roast and biscuts and was thinking of a better life somewhere, but where? That night I stole the two mules that were used to haul the silver out of the mine and I escaped for Canada. Canada is where it was at. The girls and maple syrup were supposed to be the best in the world. Half way through the journey I sold the mules for a vehicle. I was so happy because pappy would never buy a vehicle so I took this vehicle and drove to C-A-N-A-D-A. In Canada i took up the job of prositution and became a refined pimp. I dodged all the wars and I am living fine and enjoying my economic prosperity. I just hope my journals are up to par to the other very fine writers out there.

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