Recent Story and Descriptions

Descriptions
Zach Collins- is a great, 20 year old outgoing guy. Baby blue eyes and big muscles, yes ladies he's a stud muffin. Has had so many blackouts he doesn't drink without a flashlight. A big great bundle of testosterone, drunkenness, and good times.

Patti Burton-the most caring, strongest person I will ever know. 52 years of age, but looks 30. You can see the daily struggle she goes through in her baby brown eyes and long, dramatic hair, but would never be able to tell through her hyper, almost in need of Riddlin personality.

Torrence Hatch-the weight of his world has mad his legs strong. Keyword being his world, because he does not know much outside of the hot ghetto of south side Baton Rouge, Louisiana. A 23 year old diabetic with a lot to say about what he has learned in life.

Recent Story

As I travel the hilly path of this stable sidewalk below me, my metal shield keeping the cold from gripping my bones, I think to myself this party better be worth it. I branch off from the guys for a bathroom break in the back alley of a building. Out of all the illegal things students do at OU, public urination will be the act to land you in the back of a cop car. As I release my bodily fluids I look around me. My mind takes a pause and stops to think that kind of thought that only comes when your mind is free as a result of the massage Captain Morgan is giving your brain. This would be a horrible place to be in the midst of one of your enemys. I zip up, meet back up with the guys and continue my travel to our destination. What a great valentines day this will be.

As I see more and more traveler's on the same drunken journey I am taking, thee excitement starts to set in on my already impressive feeling body. We arrive at the party, and it's full to the point that even the yard was even being invaded by random people the owners of the house have never seen, and probably will never see again. The first thing I see when I get into the party is a friend of mine in my math class, name oblivous to me at the time. I bob and weave through the what seemed like a million people to the kitchen. 7 cases of beer lay on the ground, all empty. How depressing I think to myself. I know this night will end one of two ways, from past experience. I will converse with a beautiful girl, get her number, and be satisfied I became more than just some guy at a party. Or I will not, and drink even more as to not think about how option one hasn't occured. At this moment it dawns on me that a very pretty brunnette with blonde highlights is being harassed by two guys standing not more than 24 inches away from me. She has an illumanting glow that lights up that filthy kitchen, like a light bulb in a damp creepy basement. Her smile is amazing, her personality complimenting it even more, because she had an amazing sense of humor. She looks like the type of girl you can watch sportscenter with on a sunday, and she's the one I say to myself. Now when I say harassed, I don't mean verbally or physically. Harassed as in they we're hitting on her, and I could tell she wasn't having it. Then the magic eye contact happens. I look at her and squinch my face up into that look you get in akward situations. This shows her that I feel her pain, and I'm two seconds away from taking it as a damsel in distress call. Two seconds away from pulling her up on my white horse and riding away.

No more than two seconds later, I give her the come here finger, and she steps in between the two guys with happiness, leaving upset, hateful looks on there faces. I don't quite remember exactly how the conversation went. It was a good one though. Her name was Eaven, the name of a goddess, and I was feeling like Hercules. I got her number, left the party, and went to Goodfellas to top off my night. The thick juicy pizza always making the long walk home a bit easier. I get home, throw my good clothes in the dirty laundry, and commence into chill mode and reflecting on the night with my roommates who have their own set of triumphs and tribulations. When this ritual is over, it is reflect on my life time, to the beautiful sound of hip hop in the background of my thoughts. It's about 4 o clock a.m now. This night was different however. I played a song I'd never heard before, which is rare, called "Letter to B.I.G". Hearing the melody of the beat was like love at first site. It automatically made me think of my brother, and how I hadn't gotten around to writting a song for him yet. I would write it to this beat. This would be my masterpiece I think, as a fade away into darkness. Fade away before all the pain and madness I had thought I washed away before brutally lets its presence be known again.