The morning dew had yet to settle, on the hallowed grounds of Liberty Park hallow. When YHC rolled up to receive a beat down, the dark had not lifted…nor light not down. The sun…not up….the moon…not down…my spirits could not have been higher. As i stepped into my rented V dub I became anxious and dwyer. The beating 30 min away, would certainly set the stage, for my Louisville brethery and would easily reveal my age. My tummy was grumbly, my head a bit mumbly, my feet a bit bumbly….but I was read-ily. To show the Pax of @PlanoF3 that @F3louisville was fo real..not poshly. Into the parking lot I pulled, 15 min early, only -10 min late…for those with punctuality.
I waited….and I waited…and I waited and I waited…until my waiter couldn’t wait any longer-ed. Twas no @Mookie, nor @Mizzourah, not even an @fredsanchez11 to be seen seen in the Gloom with YHC growing saddeegez.. Not even an @f3dallas Pax among the morning sheen. Where was the #shovelflag? Where was the mumblechatter? Where was the shovely-mumbly-not-humbly-chatter? Unsure at this time, but for those Pax who posted, I’m sure it resided that this Pax would be roasted. Back into my steed, I crawled with a grimace…to drive back to my domicile plotting revenge through this instance. Work out did i do…hell yes I damn did. I killed it in the weight room of the Westin I did. And all the while in they’re beds they did slumber the Pax, of @F3Plano dreamt dreams of sheer hunger. Nom…nom…nom.
Face Out…we’re the best, hands down.