Quoted By:
I’ll tell you guys the real story. I’ll be forthright about it.
I’m the fellow you all(just one guy on here) refer to as “bitchtits.” I’m responsible for the decline of this board.
The story starts way back in 1992. That’s way back when, I know. Back then, I was working as a freelancer in the vibrant small town of Dublin, Ireland. But of course, that wasn’t my real job. I was a gang member by night, based in pasadena branch of the infamous sinaloa cartel. We were just breaking into the opioid market back then, and I was in charge of monitoring shipments. Making sure everything was getting where it needed to be, no one was turning snake and pocketing some product for himself. You know, the usual. My fake name was Richard Titicaca. Funny name, I know. My real name I won’t tell you, so that’s what you’ll have to go with.
Long story short, I was laying low at this hotel, waiting for the next assignment, when things went south. Someone had snitched to the feds, and my cover was blown. The whole place was swarming with cops, and they definitely didn’t want to give me a commendation for my great work. Every exit was covered. It was too late to escape. Even as I was hurrying and packing up my affects and getting rid of the evidence, I could hear footsteps outside my hotel room. I did the only thing I could- I climbed out the window and dropped to the next floor down.
There was some fat Irish fellow sleeping there. Maybe around 20 years old or so. He didn’t look like he had it all together, if you know what I mean. He was a few bricks short of the pueblo, if you know what I mean. He didn’t say anything when I dropped in through the window. At first I didn’t even know if he was alive. But, after searching through my room and finding no one, the cops started to conduct checks on the whole hotel building. Everyone there was getting pulled out for questioning. I could hear them approaching this room, as well.
