This story is based on real characters, and all situations are real,
unless stated otherwise, which they won't be, so BELIEVE IT!
Written by one of our many sources, me:
Date: Friday Oct. 16th/1999 1:00AM
Damn that YC nigga has done it again.
It was a cold Saturday night at Mano's, it was The Saint, myself and Young
Chris along with an escaped ass-reaming convict, a BMX superstar and 2
women who just happened to be sitting there when we arrived. Sound spooky
already? Read on.
The hot topic on the table was the completion of YC's '72 Chevette. He had
been working on the beast for a very long time and finally managed to cram
a big block Caddy 510 into it (amongst various nitrous products, rear
335/ZR19 tires, and stovepipe exhaust). Immediately I demanded a ride in
the beast, and this is where the story gets interesting.
So we're drivin' down 8th street and after a few minutes I realize I can't
see anything. I try wiping the windshield thinking it was just the smoke
coming from Chris' 1 foot cuban cigar coating the windsheild, but still I
could not see. It was then that I rolled down the window, and observed
that we were not, infact, moving at all.
The lack of visibility was caused by the remains of Chris' tires as they
were burned away on the pavement. Obviously we were having a traction
problem as we hadn't moved an inch since he stepped on the gas 5 minutes
earlier. To make matters worse there was a particularily irate Police
Officer standing beside my window with her gun pulled out pointing at
Chris' head. Whoa
Needless to say after a long brawl and a little Carbon Monoxide
Poisioning, the cop was dead and we were back in the car. We returned to
Mano's riding on the rims of the car, sparks flying everywhere. A little
too much excitment for me, but just another day in the pimpin' life of YC.