Junkyard Dogs

"What is it that is the correlation between campfires and scary stories?"

"Not sure Gordon, I suppose camping isn't a common activity across the pond is it?"

"Fuck if I know, the most I can tell you chaps about ole Blighty is that she gives a wicked blowjay. Doesn't mean I call er' in the mornin."

Before Mali inquired further on the meaning of Gordon's statement, Casey put her hand on Mali's shoulder and shook her head.

"....anywho, I rolled a 1 and I'm feeling randy so I'm going if you kids want to gather around."

"Only if you explain to me who randy is and why you are feeling him. I mean I knew Gordon was gay but you?"

"You cheeky cunt."

"You get one Gordon and you just used it."

"What did I say?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and go."

There once was a man named Leroy Brown

"The baddest man in the whole damn town?"

"The very same Casey."

Leroy had quite the reputation among those that traveled his circles. He never left the house without his razor or his 32, a fact young Charles was not aware of. Leroy was a towering man at 6'4, accented by his gaudy jewelry, three rings on each hand that spelled "Bad Man" in diamonds. Charles didn't care for that either. He was a simple man who recently married a wonderful girl by the name of Doris. Leroy was often referred to as the treetop lover, a phrase that stroked his ego even more than references to him having the capability of taking on King Kong himself, were he not fictional. Leroy attempted to make advances toward Doris, a move that was swiftly denied. Leroy's egotism would not allow for such a rebuke and he pursued further. After all, that was his town, his Eldorado outside, his custom Continental waiting at his lavish house to be filled with women. It had been awhile since his dogs had been fed. Some said that Leroy's glare could petrify even the most savage of mutts. Charles paid those whispers no mind and continued sipping his drink, that was until Leroy had pushed it a little too far. Leroy's advancements on Doris escalated to the point where his hand was on her shoulder. With that Charles had had enough. No one speaks of what happened that night aloud, but in the comfort of their homes, the people whispered. Their murmurs and insinuations rang of a very interesting tune. That Leroy found himself at the end of Charley's bottle. That the baddest man left the bar leaving some of himself behind, unintentionally. But those are but the tales of wives who would dare not speak in Leroy's presence.