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The Final Haulin’ Ass: Rule Number 3

The lady was my kind of damsel, with the only distress showing in her skinny jeans. She wore black hair chopped at the shoulders over a smart cut of leather jacket. Lady also wore on her married finger a glasscutter big as a hummingbird. A mom with tweens, I casually guessed, but by all appearances still built for speed. […]

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Haulin’ Ass: Keeping Your Ride

It’s always fun to explain what “SFP” means to a cop. “Dispatch said she was headed SFP,” for example. The cop turns his ear on that, “Where’s that?” “‘Some Fucking Place.’” “Ah.” This is out on Bartelt Road where I’ve been stopped by police. Five officers swarm my taxi, each swinging an assault rifle. Squad […]

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Haulin’ Ass: Rough Night

Rough night: There’s a raunchy fête at one of the meet markets and ladies too young wander the streets boudoir-style looking like they’ve just emerged from Victoria’s Secret, wolf packs of skinny bitches high on cocaine. Meanwhile, one Ultimate Fighting championship or another is being broadcast at BWW. From corner to corner, ginned-up boys slug […]

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Haulin’ Ass: Clear #202 Headed Back Downtown

I was in court earlier this week pressing assault charges on a fellow citizen and the responding officer pulled me aside: “Jesus H. Christ, did you get a look at her bar?”

The cop was referring to a bar unit built into the garage of the defendant’s home, the whole of it veneered in white Formica and matched with white barstools, the floor decorated with mannequins clad in shining black leather. A sex swing hung from the rafters. I had hauled said defendant home many times previous to the altercation bringing us to court. Too hammered to use the front door, she carried the garage opener in her purse. So yeah, I’ve seen the bar. This is perhaps why I’m playing Peaches on the pleasure-radio tonight. […]

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