The pictures are posted in no particular order.
I don't think I could add any clarity to the events with text but I'll try.
Kia and I were pulled over near Duvall for riding too slow.
He was behind me - I knew the second he pulled off his glasses fore the cops had just told us we were driving like assholes and then threw a crack at him to the same effect for getting punched in the face.
Little did they know it was an upstairs neighbor hit and run.
All for throwing stones at his window because his girlfriend had the keys and managed to sleep through the incident, ambulance and time he was in the ER.
Seattle passive agressiveness at its finest.
At least my neighbors choose apples and eggs.
Kia could see well enough by this point to snap a few of the pics below.
Dennis got some sun blocks and swears to keep his bike in his roommates space.
Shit's still inside of the house nonetheless.
In the span of 2 weeks I've seen quite the parts lot amass at that joint and couldn't even smell the vinegar that tank is soaking in.
If you look closely at the sparkplug changing pic you'll come to realize that Dennis surrounds himself with intellectuals on top of 45 wassel tanks and 16 sets of flanders.
In my time in his hood I learned of a Book by the name of Dead Languages and don't mind taking the time to recapitulate the tagline: "His handicap comes to seem emblematic of obstacles to communication in general, and helpful in dramatizing them: "I thought it was my duty to insert into every conversation the image of its own absurdity," Jeremy contends, and his coming-of-age requires a comprehensive survey of the available means of verbal rebellion."
Right?
Anyway...
At some point Mackenzie and I made it to Boom City and back successfully with some sparklers.
And mortars too.
$90 of gunpowder and no tickets made for a pretty good BBQ.
The corndogs caught some flack inevitably.
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