My protege and former Ass Haulers drummer found hisself in a bit of a barroom donnybrook over a turtle for sale and ended up taking a broken beer bottle to the throat. With his newly improved speaking voice and knowing full well that he was in a perennial state of financial desperation I lured him in by electronically transmitting $25 American and a bit of my prose for him to read. What follows is pure, borderline-magical genius-ness of him reading the text below from the inside of a filthy hell-bound car in a Dollar Tree parking lot at 11:30 PM on muggy Wednesday night.