Cody Christano: The Life of an American Scum Bucket
You remember you could take your old bike to the scrap yard for some cash. You pull back into your driveway and get out to head into the garage.
You open the garage door, and look around for your bike. It's not here. You check the backyard and see bike tire tracks leading away from your garage from the back door.
Some little punk has stolen your bike.
You clench your fists in red hot rage at the thought of some little bastard riding your bike you could of sold to the scrap metal yard for 10 bucks. Clearly whoever stole this bike does not realize he made a fatal mistake. If you find this poor sap you are murdering him in cold blood.
Luckily your bike won't be too hard to find. It has a unique flame pattern. You have a choice here...
You open the garage door, and look around for your bike. It's not here. You check the backyard and see bike tire tracks leading away from your garage from the back door.
Some little punk has stolen your bike.
You clench your fists in red hot rage at the thought of some little bastard riding your bike you could of sold to the scrap metal yard for 10 bucks. Clearly whoever stole this bike does not realize he made a fatal mistake. If you find this poor sap you are murdering him in cold blood.
Luckily your bike won't be too hard to find. It has a unique flame pattern. You have a choice here...