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Paintballs & Ghetto

For my birthday not too long ago Mrs. Brownman surprised me with a quiet outing at an indoor paintball facility. In order to keep it secret she had to figure a way to get me there without giving anything away. It included having me drive there with a random friend we picked up from a Queens train station just to drive all the way back into deep Long Island. 

“E!?! What are you in my car??” I yelled as he jumped into the car. 

“Let’s be discreet about this, I charge by the hour. Pull to the corner so no cops see us.” With that, and no birthday handjobs from E, we were off. And looking at the GPS all it said was to get off at the cemetery exit. 

“Are you guys taking me to kill off the Brownman character?”

“Surprise honey! I’m buying you a plot of land for your birthday!” of course in retrospect that was a lie, but how could I have guessed any different? It turns out the paintball place was right across the street from the graves, a wondrous omen for a newbie like myself at paintballing and who’s afraid of pain at my fragile age. 

Naturally my cousins were late in showing up so the surprise of them participating was ruined when I had to call and find out how far they were. In anticipation of their arrival I kept looking up every few seconds the paintball arena’s doors opened to see if it was them. Apparently in the line of sight of the door were a group of ghetto kids and their fatfuck adult supervision for the evening. 

“Why don’t you take a picture?! It lasts longer!!” yelled the ignorant black lady. Really? This is what you do? In front of these kids you’re gonna start shit?

“I’m not looking at you people. I’m looking at the door-”

“Yea this guy been looking at us the whole time!” yelled one of the little shits. 

“Seriously? I’m not fucking looking at you.”

And a few more words were ha before I just went back to insulting them amongst my little crew of civil people. Why live up to the stereotypes? I’m old. But never old enough to punch a kid that ain’t mine. My own kids will get worse when we get home because I know where they live. These fucknuts get punched right away before they run away. 

But I calmed down because my wife was right there and she went through a lot to get this awesome event underway. 

The paintballing itself was intense- and it was really great to see all the people participate. But so help me next time. I have too much anger built up against ghetto people since the last time I fought. I’ll be fighting for us civil people the next time.

4 Responses

  1. Oh black people

  2. So that’s what that was all about. I thought you were trying to pick a fight with a 10-year-old kid.

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