Originally posted by Warthog
Of course it wasn't easy getting accepted into the cool Hard Rock Gang next street, the "Hard Rockers", but after licking cute looking holes into their stone-washed jeans for several months they finally accepted me as one of their own, and I was allowed to live off the remains of their make-up. I sort of felt like a ninth wheel sometimes, tallying behind their Harleys on my little tricycle, but they made it all up to me later when they sold me to a pair of gay gypsy knife-throwers.