Episode 2- Of what happened to ABQ over past six months

If you missed Episode one please go ahead and read It before starting Episode two. Drama...aint no drama like what ABQ has gone thru. Feel me?

Disclaimer…. This is for entertainment purposes only anything else that happens between the author and the reader is purely fictional in nature. This is purely fictional dramatic tale. End of Disclaimer.
This aint no PG rated post- Reader discretion is advised. Seriously I mean it!

Episode 2- Assassin’s Creed aint so Bad
Big Thicket is the name of a heavily forested area in Southeast Texas. While no exact boundaries exist, the area occupies much of Hardin, Liberty, Tyler, San Jacinto, and Polk Counties and is roughly bounded by the San Jacinto River, Neches River, and Pine Island Bayou. To the north, it blends into the larger Piney Woods eco-region of which it is a part. It has historically been the most dense forest region in what in Southeast Texas, though logging in the 19th and 20th centuries dramatically reduced the forest concentration.

The Preserve's headquarters are located 8 miles north of Kountze, Texas and approximately 30 miles north of Beaumont via US 69/287. Small towns are contained within the Big Thicket. Most of these towns developed in the late 19th century in support of the lumber industry, as evidenced by names like Lumberton. As transportation through the area improved (including the construction of US 59, US 69 and 96), many of the towns slowly became suburbs of the much larger cities of Beaumont to the south and Houston to the southwest.

But enough of a history lesson in where ABQ is at, he is running is fast as he can thru this forest. Man I have to cut back on those Ho-Hos as my ass is dragging. I can only run so fast ya know. My breathing increases as I hear footsteps and yelling a good five hundred feet below me as this terrain is now going uphill. I also need to cut back on mi Cheetos. Fuckin Carbs!
I can slowly hear them gaining on me. Those two fuckers. Can you believe people that these two retired fuckheads have been making my life miserable for the last few weeks. Only problem is this they want the ABQ dead, gone, destroyed, blown to bits. And they each have a shotgun. This aint no Dick Cheney hunting expedition. It is here at 4am in the morning an ABQ search and kill mission. Damn retired US Marshalls just will not give up. I hear their grunting as they may not be as swift as they once were. Just to think I did not think they were actual bloodhounds like Tommy Lee Jones portrayed in “The Fugitive.”

I can just envision that prick of a motherfucker Michael. You know whom I am talking about right? Bridezilla’s father saying this to the other Marshall named Donnie. “Average foot speed over uneven ground barring injuries is 4 miles per hour and that gives us a radius of... six miles. What I want out of each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area.” Crap ABQ doing 4 miles an hour. Yeah whatever the fuck ever. That shit aint even hella plausible.

Last week they did the same thing to me. Different part of Texas near Austin at a state park early in the morning. I was lucky to get away and hitchhike back to the tone. But this place I can barely see where I am going. Now I am running downhill, I can hear a stream to my left. So I book right and move more downhill. I can hear them yelling. “Your time is up ABQ.”

About ten minutes later I come across a dirt road. How did I know it was a dirt road. Cause I see this light as it appears and then disappears. Like some damn random Morse code. But what the hell I do not hear footsteps so I come closer to the light. I almost trip over some railroad tracks as the light has once again disappeared…fuck! I continue on another dirt road opposite this railroad track and see another light. It is showing me to a pit area. I jump in it and put a bunch of leaves over me and pray that the Old Marshalls do not find me. Otherwise it is feed ABQ to the damn wolves.

Five Hours Later

I finally decide to get out of the pit. It is daylight as the sun is smacking me continually in the face. I do not hear a sound. As I must be way off the beaten path. Looks like I have survived another weekend. This was my punishment, my hell for the Michael not sending me to prison. That I will be sport until they either feel like stopping or my grave is under some serious dirt in who knows what state park or forest preserve.

Only later did I find out via the net what saved me on this early Saturday morning. A fucking legend, a ghost story and if I did not see the light with my own eyes I would never of believed it. Listen to this homies:

The "Light of Saratoga" is a legend located in the Big Thicket of Southeast Texas. This legend of a mysterious light is also known as the "Ghost Road" of Saratoga, the "Saratoga Light", and "Bragg Road Ghost Light" by local residents. Located on a dirt road, it is a light that may appear and disappear at random during the dark of night without explanation.

There are different beliefs as far as what the ghostly light could be, such as swamp gas and similar natural occurrences. The most popular story surrounding this legend is that a railroad worker was decapitated in a railway accident, and the light is that of his lantern as his ghost searches endlessly for his head.
“Can you say Sleepy fuckin hollow.” ABQ says thinking of how an urban legend saved his life.

5 weeks earlier

“What do you mean do not leave.” I ask Paltel my lawyer. ‘I am heading to see some naked women and chill. And then get out of dodge for a while.” Within a few minutes I let my lawyer talk me into going back to my office.

Forty minutes later he shows up. Good ole Paltel. I survived numerous potential jail stints and being someone’s bitch because of this man. He has this accent that is part Indian and part New Yorkan. How the fuck he pulls it off that I can even understand the man is beyond me. I do feel sorry for the guy though as he does not have much hair left, works like 80 hours a week helping clients like me. The guy is maybe five foot two and that is being generous. He is part Jewish and part Indian.

Once he told me why he works so much. That he has a three inch dick. Man that must be motherfuckin hard to deal with in more ways than one. Feel me eses. While I have an anaconda he has a tic tac, a roll ‘O dimes, a lil tally, tiny tim, tom thumb. Then again he could say that he is hung like a bee.

“The way I see it you have two options here. But before I go into them I want to say something. Did you have to beat up this man that bad. Look at that blood. His eyes is closed shut.”

“He was looking down at ABQ. He drew first blood not me. “ Not really sure if I truly believed that but no one gonna look down at the ABQ and not pay for it.

“Option A is I know a guy who can be here in like twenty minutes and beat the crap out of you. It will look like you and your comrade on the floor got into a real bad argument. He is a US Marshall and I do not care if he is retired or not. He will hunt you down if you run. He will find you and then there is nothing I can do to help you.”

“What is the other fuckerfuckin option then cause I am not liking how this conversation is going.”

“Option B is I know a guy who knows a guy who has a girlfriend and her father knows a guy who’s cousin knows a guy can come here and put a bullet in your gut.”

“What the fuck did you just tell ABQ?” I said as I know veins are popping like popcorn on my forehead.

Three Days Later

“Straight up ABQ…I mean Damn! Homie you got the fuck beat out of you.” Skinny Pete comes closer to take a better look. Black and blue all around my face. My left eye is closed and all purple, a bruised sternum, multiple lacerations on my right cheek. He turns to my other homie visiting me Joey-Ass Slim Jimma. “Dude you see that. “

Joey-Ass Slim Jimma can only nod as he is eating a big pretzel. Do not even ask how he got that name. Rumor has it is his real name and his crack head mama actually named him that at birth.

“You can always go work at one of them Auntie Anne’s in one of dem malls slingin Pretzels.” Skinny Pete tells me. He turns back to Joey-Ass Slim Jimma. Why you always eating those anyway. You know a soft pretzel is slang for a vagina. In fact I see most of the girls at malls, real hot ones too order up a soft pretzel. They take their time eating it too. Like its gotta last for an hour. Slowly biting off piece by motherfuckin small piece. You see a guy can eat a pretzel in like five fuckin minutes. But a girl it takes her as long as watching a ten round boxing match. Why?”

“I will tell you why Joey-Ass cause this is all Freudian and shit. She rather be eating pussy. You see how some girls lick the salt off it. I tell ya it is all psychological and shit. She rather be licking and then slowly eating some pussy. Any girl who is eating a god damn soft pretzel is either a lesbian or a closet one.” Skinny Pete finishes his rant. I try to laugh but instead just cough.

Joey-Ass Slim Jimma is a tall around maybe six foot two and mixed guy. Looks more like an offensive lineman who has not seen the gym in a decade. “You get more fuckin insane by the day Pete. You know that. I guy cannot even eat a pretzel in peace without your damn sexual references.” Joey-Ass says.

“Any guy that eats a soft pretzel just wishes he had a vagina.” Then Skinny Pete turns back to me. “Dude you look like shit. You want some whataburger or something?”

Five weeks Later

I look at my phone as it is a text from Michael. “See you next weekend at 3am. Got a new spot for us to try. You will love it.”

All I know is I got to get out of something to Remember. This is beyond worse than anything I could have imagined. They are hunting me like a damn dog that they want to put down. I cannot sleep, I cannot fuck, I cannot function properly. It has gotten to the point where I have no choice but to call my brother.

Tomas and me hardly ever talk cause he is the straight and narrow. He is the good brother and I am the bad one. Even though he lives in El Paso he has a fine place where I do not think the US Marshalls will find nor bother me for a while so I can get some peace and rest.

Two days later I meet him outside his workplace. And we sit on the bench.
“Come on Tomas help a brother out literally. I wanna change my ways and I need a new start.” I tell him.

“Somehow I do not believe you are telling me the full story.” He responds. He is wearing a brown robe.

“Really Tomas when was the last time you had pussy?” I ask him straight out.

“Why of all things would you even ask that of me. You come here wanting to start a new life but it is the same brother I have always knew.”

“Come on now I need to know. Do you ever think about a woman? “Ever download any porn? Ever jackoff to a smoking hot big titied girl? Ever think of a girl with a ghetto booty of an ass?” Ever want to head over to Laredo and find a hot ass chica?”

“Brother I am only going to say this once. We consider yourselves holy men. Men of God. We only have one purpose and that purpose does not include the opposite sex. "Holy men" go way back in history and they who were usually wandering around the cities in small groups during the Third Crusade, deep in prayer. In Jerusalem and Damascus they were Muslim ascetics and wore turbans. In Acre they were Christian monks and wore hoods.”

“Monasticism was unknown in Christianity until the end of the third century. Most of the early Christians continued to own private property after their conversion, and marriage was not condemned. St. Paul expressed a personal preference for celibacy, but admitted there was no "command from the Lord" on the matter. Widows were treated with special respect, but those under the age of 60 were enjoined to remarry and bear children. Missionary and charity work were emphasized over personal meditation and spiritual development.”

“However, there were strands within Christianity dating back to the time of the apostles that emphasized asceticism, celibacy, poverty or moral perfection. Fasting was an accepted discipline in the early church. It became customary for older widows to remain single and devote themselves to prayer and church work. Celibacy was lauded as a higher calling by not only St. Paul, but also The Shepherd of Hermas and the Marcionites. In 305, a synod in Spain required celibacy of bishops. By then, the custom had already been established that members of the clergy should not marry or (if widowed) remarry after ordination.

In ancient Egypt and Syria, the distinction between the tilled and irrigated fields of the villages and the surrounding wilderness was very clear. Beyond the fields was "the desert," rocky and dry land, with a sparse vegetation of brambles, nettles, and thornbushes, and incapable of supporting human habitation. It was the site of caves and small springs of brackish or salty water, abounding in poisonous snakes, lizards of all sorts, and watched over by vultures. But believe or not, these conditions favored the life of a monk. The moderate temperatures and sparse rain meant that he could live alone with little shelter, and the solitude and stark landscape aided in meditation and prayer.”

“So as you can see brother if we accept you as one of our own there are two words that will guide you. Meditation and prayer.”

“So does that mean we cannot go to Florence and look for Ezio and be all assassin’s creed like and shiz?”

“This is going to take a lot of work and patience on my end brother. First order of business lose the profanity.” Tomas pleads with me.

“Can I still bring in some Cheetos?” I ask

Episode Three: Crossing the border

Wow dude, keep these coming very interesting story.

love the history, don't think ABQ lasted long with his brother. didn't know that about women and soft pretzels, but disagree about men. I love licking soft pretzels and other things, so maybe same for men and women.

can't wait for next chapter in ABQ's adventures

I tried for that part to be kinda Tarantinoisque in nature and thus a character way way to the extreme in his thinking. More like over the top. But these stories are also like cliff notes version as I know they are already long. But also want them to be entertaining. Yo!

Travelman in terms of keeping these coming it all comes down to the number of reads. More reads equals more episodes. Less reads means more episodes will not happen. Reads to ABQ is like ratings. Less reads equals cancellation.

A Sandbox topic.

Moved to the proper forum.

Good reading my friend!

Episode 3, The Monastery.....will be a short one. Episode 4 will be epic!

Run, ABQ, Run

If you want an episode three let me know peeps. Episode 4 is epic though.

Of course we want episode three! I'm taking notes on how to evade the MAN!

With Breaking Bad off the air.....

Perhaps ABQ's next big adventure is...



With no Cheetos in the casa and the Commissary closed because of the Government Shutdown ABQ plots his most desperate move yet!

Raid the Frito Lay Cheetos factory!

Our hero is suffering from serious withdrawals and will do anything to cut to the cheese!

Mokoa...you are not far off. But it gets much much worse for the ole ABQ.

Episode 3, The Monastery.....will be a short one. Episode 4 will be epic!

Run, ABQ, Run Originally Posted by greenhorn1960

Bring it! Looking forward to Episode Tres!