The one where I begin at the beginning…

He met Tom Sawyer once. He was sitting on a porch in Lawrence Kansas with Les Paul, smoking one of those cheap ass cigars that he liked. The smell was not unlike the one that came from under the hood of his car right before the big plumes of white smoke. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to drive this piece of shit all the was across the county, he thought to himself as he rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. – to be continued…

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