Too think a sport about guys fighting with no shirts would be the thing that gets me outta getting fucked once every other day by a guy named Bubba is still a fever dream to me. I figured beggars can't be choosers. The transition period didn't take long, a simple pardon, gathering up the clothes that were on my back when I got in here, and tossing me out of the joint. I made a quick phone call and grabbed a quick snack before I got my bags and got out of there. I was hit by something unfamiliar too me, the fresh smell of freedom. I could do whatever I wanted too, party, get some hole... or even hangout with the old gang. I was quick too shake my head too these things, I had a job too do. I took a seat on the local bench across the street and tosses my bags down. I still couldn't believe any of this was happening.



Psssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...........




Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...........



I still couldn't believe the sound in my head wouldn't leave me alone either. I had realized then and there there's been a lot I've been missing. TV, Sports... Jesus, who's the president right now? So many questions went through my head as I sat there. I had the time, my ride was only about 2 hours away.

2 HOURS LATER...






I could hear the old familiar sound of a roaring engine make its way towards me. I couldn't stop myself from cracking a smile as I stood up, flung my bags over my shoulder, and stood there in anticipation. A motorcycle, a hell of a looker might I add, reared it's self over, but I didn't recognize the rider. Some the young lookin' kid from what I can tell must've just been a pedestrian I thought, but he suddenly stopped and parked right in front of me. Either he's askin' for me to punch his lights out, or he knows me. He's gotta be Korean or something from the look on his face.

Biker: "Hey-hey-heeeeey, the original Mad Dog himself, how ya been man?"

Chris Valley: "I know you?"

Hadn't had any idea who he was at first, but that vest said it all. He was a Prospect of The Mad Dogs MC. I blanked out, for the last five years I'd forgotten I was even a member... Jesus, thinking back, I was their Sergeant at Arms. It'd been good to see they're active.

Biker: "Nah, I only joined The Mad Dogs last year, but I know you dog! You're the guy himself, Chris Valley. I got the call, you said you needed a ride right?"

Guess this was the kid who picked up the phone then. Prospects weren't usually this excited about pick up jobs, but I can tell it was an ambition for him. I took the ride with open arms and hopped on the bike behind him. After talking with the kid, he let me in on what's been going on. We were down too about 28 members now, this kid was a prospect, so technically 29 now. Travis was the kid's named, seemed goodhearted, but confused the hell out of me why he'd want too get into something like this at so young, he was only 19. Location didn't change, thank God, but the people did. Their current president sounds like a bag of fuck goo, wanting some hole and coke every other week. Most connections dropped us, and it looks like we've become just a hangout. As we zoomed through the familiar streets, I saw what five years did. People were still glued to their phones, they were still greedy and possessive, and business was as heartless as ever. Jesus, a businessman the president of all things. Who'd've thought a cameo in Home Alone 2 would rule the country. Anyway, soon enough, we made it to the old Chapel in Cambridge, and it was a sight I couldn't believe.

Ruined. Dismantled, and everything else I hate about a building. A place I once called home was turned into a party loft. Travis was quick to get off the bike. He even brought my bags in. I followed him in with my hands in my pockets, they were sweaty, and I was nervous too meet the old gang, or what was left of it. I just had to ask him something.

Chris Valley: "What about my rank? Hell, kid, I ain't even sure if I'm even in the Mad Dogs anymore. I get you're young, but don't let that lead too stupidity."


Travis[/b]: "I'm not stupid. I'm hopeful. I think we need someone like you too lead us, even if it's unofficial."[/color]

Chris Valley: "Mutiny? Maybe it's a mental thing with you, 'eh?"

Travis: "God no, listen, they might've lost their way, but an old timer like you could sort a mess like this. Just come in, they won't lay a finger on you."

I might've been thinking too hard into this, and I realized that then and there. The world ain't like a prison. People are actually decent. I shook my head to get a grip and agreed with him. He kicked the door open and hollered for his boys. I stepped in, and truth be told, I was wrong. It had the looks. Same old arcade machines we took in '08, same bar, the old logo got a new design, but it's a hell lot better than what we had before. Some of these guys looked at me, some thought I was a hippie, others knew of me and looked like they wanted too welcome me with open arms. But of course, the President was there in all his "glory", sitting back in a cozy armchair, legs spread, and a drink in hand. With his smooth dark skin, he wore some baggy clothes. I didn't see no vest on him, but I guess his shitty hat with "Prez" was suppose too mean something.

President: "Brotha-brotha-brotha-Valley! Shit, been awhile hadn't it? How's yo asshole feelin' after a night with Big Bubba and the gang huh?!"

Like a pack of jackals, a majority of the MC cackled. The ones that didn't be stoned outta their heads. The fucker, I swear. He was an old prospect, I only knew him for about a month before I got locked up. He stood up and waved his boys over to meet me face to face. I didn't give him any of the unneeded "nice to meet you" bullshit like anyone else. I stood there with my arms folded, looking over the place while waiting. He cracked a grin at me, a gold tooth I could see and a couple of gauges, fucking douche. He punched me in the shoulder as a joke and went on to talk too his crew.

President: "Aight aight aight, my kingdom, y'all see this man right here? This guy was THE Mad Dog himself. He uses too roll wit' some of the toughest son's of bitches in the land. We talkin' K-Dog, Trevor Coils, and even me mothafuckahs!"

Trevor and K, any other time I would've loved too hear about them, see what their final years were like. I had heared they both got clapped, but hearing this prick talk about them was like pissing on their graves. I had too step in. As the rest of the gang clapped and hollared for me, I looked around, clicking my tounge inside my mouth as if too think while I looked around.

Chris Valley: "The welcome home ruinion's nice n'all... but where's my jacket? Last I checked when I was here, I was the Seargent in Arms."



President: "Uh, dog I don't know if you noticed or not, but man you an old timer now. We done took that jacket and burnt it. You startin' at the bottom now, and I suggest you lower yo tone and show some resp-"


Wrong answer. I clocked him so hard in the mouth I think I might've busted that fake tooth of his because when he looked at me, blood began running down his mouth. The rest of the gang didn't do anything but look on, and Travis was in the same boat. "Prez" stood up and looked around as if it was his own men that did it. He came running at me, and I was quick too do the same thing, punch this fucker in the mouth. This time when he was down, I took my boot and stomped his head. There was a nasty thud, and as he got on his hands and knees, a quick punt only brought him down. I looked around like a wild dog, daring someone to try something, but no one did. I hollered as if to make an announcement.

Chris Valley: "Listen up, every single one of you! You see this? This is the shit that brought every single one of you too where you are, shit. Jack and shit. About half of you are stoned out of your brains, and this shit right here, where no one did a thing to save your President? That's what's ruining you all."

Some seemed ashamed, actually, most were. I didn't blame them. I looked down at Prez and could tell he was pissed off as he dragged himself up.

Chris Valley: "You protect your brother. That's another thing, this guy right here? He ain't your president. He may call you a people of his kingdom, but I'm here too tell you all, a president is a brother. You ain't better than none of us."

Prez: "Man hop the fuck outta here with that bullshit. You ain't nothin', I'm offically kicking you o-"

He asked for it, again I hit him one good. My fist was starting too bruise. He didn't go down this time, instead, he stood his ground and kept his fists up. He wanted too fight. In The Mad Dogs MC, you were only kicked out if you lost a fight against the president. I'm aiming for this fucker's head. If you won, you were considered a prospect or even promoted. I guess Travis must've won against the last president. Prez knew this, and we started at it. He kept swinging wildly with punches, but he missed each one, and I had no mercy in my strikes. The "crowd" were wild, some taking bets and even offering weapons. Prez is quick too take a knife from one of the stoners. He swings wildy with it and starts shoutin'. I think I'm less threatend and more pissed off some stoner loser took over a family I once loved. I take a few slashes too the arms, but it ain't long before we're on the ground. He's got the knife pointed at me, and I'm there trying too push him off, keeping a hold on the arms. This is just like prision, and in prision, you did whatever you could too survive. A fish hook never hurt, me anyway, but as I begun digging a thumb into his eye, I heard a shrill scream like I've never heard. He dropped the knife, but the damage was done. The eye'd already been bursted, and he jumped back like a cat. Some cheered, and very few, mostly the stoners, got too their fellow man. I stood up and dusted myself off, and I could feel Travis' arm raise mine. In only one fight, it was offical, I was back in the MC. Prez? I can see him walking out with his homies, good fucking riddance. I took a stand on the table, old fashioned too call an announcement.

Chris Valley: "ALRIGHT. Boys, I can safely say, if you're sick of this bullshit thug life, if you're sick of being unprodoctive as fuck, I say we get this shit cleaned up, and we restore this MC too it's former glory. Now I know it ain't really somethin' many of you are lookin' for, but I'm gonna be away for a while. Off doin' something too pay off a debt. Some of you hell, may even see me on TV. But within that time, when I get back here, I wanna see this place in tip-top shape. We're The Mad Dogs, and no one's gonna fuck with any of us when we show we ain't a bunch of stoners."

No one ever said The Mad Dogs MC were the best judges, but they understood this meant a lot. Cheers after cheers. It lasted a good two minutes. I refused too let them party, we needed shit done ASAP before I left. It's hard too believe, I know, but it's something. I hopped off the table and got too work.


Couple days later, I was off. I got some of the boys too round up a plane too this XWF joint. I let Travis figure things out. I had faith in him, even if it was a little. Prez? Who knows, doubt he'll be back anytime soon. When you're kicked out, you stay out. As for the rest of the gang, time'll tell what happens too them. Time's gonna tell what happens too me too. I figured since wrestler's need something too go by, "Mad Dog" Chris Valley would work. Hell, might even support the MC a bit by assosiation. The Warden was quick too inform me I was facing some poor soul named Benny in my first "match". Didn't know the guy or care very much, just knew he was in for a world of trouble. He suggested maybe shooting a few videos, uploading 'em and having them aired. Might just do that... but for now, fuck, right now...




I need some fucking sleep.

"Every dog's got his day."

The Pride of Boston