The cool breeze feels good tonight; it seems the humidity has migrated south for the winter.  Leaning on my bike, I try my best James Dean pose; feeling entirely too damn hip, for all the squares walking by.  Sideburns just right, Wavefarer’s, Deck Shoes, black leather jacket, and frayed jeans that hug my nuts perfect.

My trademark smirk…intriguing to some, annoying to others.

The Scotch in my pocket flask says: Dirty refinement.

The .40 cal on my hip says: Don’t fuck with me.

The PDA you don’t see, that scans all your data while you walk by, says:  Pay up $uckas.

Just some hooligan, digitally raping you.  Yarr….

#3ndtrans