Frisco.

"Orange was my favorite color," is the name of the this day.

This is the part of Hell that transforms lost kids into junkies and tweekers, giving them skimpy sacks of dank weed to sell to support their habits and then paints them orange to throw them in a cage where the dope-sick little bastards shake and convulse from the detoxification. Welcome to Haight Street.

Orange.

Orange socks.

Orange britches. The elastic waistband must have lost it's life to a big, fat fucker months ago and they've got me wearing them anyway.

When the fucking "undies" brought me in, the pig who checked me in said, "You again? What the Hell you doin' back here?"

"I need clean socks. Orange is my color."

Fuck!

1.7 grams! Damn it! I really can't believe this shit! She was a fucking prostitute for Christ's sake! In that tight-ass, pink, plastic dress, cops and jail were the last two things on my mind. Let me tell ya!

Bam! Seven clean-cut, over-weight doughnut-eaters in street clothes jump out of the trees and come stumbling their fat asses down the hill.

"Fuck it!"

I picked up my forty ounce and took what was obviously my last swill of beer for a few days as the fat-fucks swarmed me.

One of the fuckers actually had the gall to ask me, "So, wha'd'ya think of that chick's bod?"

"Man? That was an evil trick!"

Encircled by an echo of horrendous laughter.

So, let me catch you up real quick.

My brother Ru-mi couldn't keep up with the ScumFucks' drinking habits and the detox clinic was full so he joined the Christian cult that feeds in the front of the park and went off to their farm in Ligett, California. The last thing he said to me was, "Man, Flee. I think Haight Street is the gate to Hell, man. Be careful. Did you here me, man? I said, 'BE FUCKIN' CAREFUL, MAN!!!"

The perverted tour guide, Asshole, skipped his parole meeting and got picked up for "Public Drunk." I haven't seen him since.

As for me, I finally slept (thanks to S.F. County Jail) for the first time in 3 weeks or some shit. And, ironically, these pigs just saved my life. They forced open the door of a jail far worse than theirs and I am getting the fuck out of Frisco before I'm sucked back in.

Strung out? Never again! And, the next person who offers me a loaded rig is gettin' knocked in the fuckin' teeth!

Oh, and if anyone is offended by anything I write and wants to locate me, check the fuckin' highways!

To end on a lighter note:

What do you call a squatter with a hair-cut?

Incarcerated.