Ghost Writer

This is a promotion only.

My new book “Ghost Writer” coming to Atlanta Georgia in June 2019.

If you would like to be in attendance and added to the guest list; please email me your name and email address to:

adakalabooks@gmail.com

Cosmo (sexual content) by A. Dakala

Ethan James and I had a lot in common, his sex gave me an orgasm that I never experienced. His touch sent shock waves through my spine that made my legs shake.

Looking at him made my nipples hard, sometimes the smell of his cologne would have my kitty cat tingling; which resulted in my panties getting wet. There were days sitting at my desk I had to cross my legs; scared that I was going to have an orgasm thinking about his touch. My girlfriend’s say that I’m penis whipped, that I walk around with a Koolaid smile. The feeling this man gives me is so different from the years of quickies and no cuddling after sex I experienced in my last relationship. The other night we actually had phone sex, the first time I ever felt loved without intercourse. The exciting thing about our sex is that it’s something new each time. Tonight is our three month anniversary and of course this is my first time at his place since his sons will be away to their mothers. I wonder how different will things be at his place versus mine?

After work I’m headed to Victoria Secrets to pick up a nice and sexy see-through nightie that I know will turn him on as soon as he see it on my body. The thought of his soft lips touching my vaginal sends shock ways through my pelvis. I found something very sexy; I know he’s going to love it and easy to take off at his convenience.

As soon as I got home I jumped in the shower to freshing up. I had to make sure my nookie was groomed to perfection. My bag is packed and I’m ready to take this to the next level. I hope he bought more condoms because we have went through the last few he had. Plus I am a lady I don’t walk around with condoms in my purse.

Using my navigation to get to his home was very interesting; the neighborhood was very clean and the homes were huge. Damn I wonder if he’s living in something like these, not that it would matter; but damn. “Oh shit!” I slammed on the brakes. “Was that a fucking deer?”, I said to myself. I stopped my car in the middle of the street. A big as deer ran across the street with these big horn like things on his head. I pulled over and called Ethan. “Baby I’m in your area and I almost hit a deer” I said. “Oh baby, I forgot to tell you take it slow through this area; it’s deer season and they will jump out across the road.” “Are you okay love?” Ethan said. “Yes, it just scared me; but I’m fine, be there in a few minutes.”

I made sure I decreased my speed for the remainder of the ride. As soon as I turned on his street my favorite song started playing on the radio; “What took you so long ” by Leon Timbo. What a way to get my sexual mood started and my mind exploring the thoughts of sex. Ethan has no idea that I am really a true freak in the bedroom; I love sex.

Turning down his street of course houses got smaller; no more big houses, but still a decent size neighborhood. Yards were very clean and a few people were out walking; though the sun was setting. “You’ve arrived at your destination” My navigation said.

As soon as I open my car door to get my bag out of the back seat; Ethan walks out of the front door, wearing no shirt looking good. He greeted me with a hug and a kiss; smelling good. “Hello Ethan” some old wrinkle lady next door to him said smiling her ass off. I looked at Ethan and he laughed. He grabbed my bags and started hitting me on my butt as we walked in the house. He’s already flirting and I haven’t been here five minutes.

As I walked in I was amazed at how well decorated his place was. There were nice black art pictures and vases throughout his living room. “I will give you a tour of the place once we get you comfortable” he said. We walked upstairs to his bedroom which was huge and very spacious. He put my bag on the couch he had in his room and took my smaller bag to his bathroom. I followed him and to my surprise he was a neat freak. Everything was in order. “You can put your personal things on that side if you like” he said. Then he walks out and left me there. When I walked out the bathroom into his bedroom, I peeped in his closet to make sure there were no females clothes hanging up. Suits on one side, casuals on another, sneakers alot of them and dress shoes on another side. I saw that he loves ties and belts. I walked out smiling into his bedroom, glance over at his California king bedroom. The first thought that came to my mind was; I can’t wait to be butt naked under his sheets. I walked downstairs and Ethan was in the kitchen fixing food with two glasses full of wine. He wasn’t worried about how long I was upstairs in his space; so far so good. “Help yourself to a glass of your favorite wine” he said. “Aww baby you remembered.” I grabbed the wine and walked over and kissed him. I didn’t ask him what he was cooking because it didn’t matter to me, as long as we were together. “Baby make yourself at home, you can walk around; I will show you everything once we eat until then explore.” “No baby I will wait for my official tour, from a very sexy tour guide” I said. I watched him for a few minutes, finishing my first glass of wine. I poured a second glass and sat in the living room, looking up at his tall vaulted ceilings. I didn’t ask to turn on his television but I did and flipped through a few channels.

Whatever he was fixing smells really good. Dinner was completed and it was delicious. Baked pork chops, Mac and cheese , collard greens and cornbread. I almost started eating before we blessed the food with saying grace. Once we said Amen; I was off to the races as each bite savoried my taste buds.

I was full as a tick. I think we sat at the table and talked for an hour. I got our plates to wash dishes but he stopped me, “baby relax I got this” He said. After he finished dishes he was going to shower and put on a movie for us. One of us is going to get this started and I was definitely in the mood too. “Can I shower with you?” I asked. “Of course you can” he said. I knew my black ass just took a shower before I got to his house; but oh well, the cleaner the better.

I turned off the television and walked up stairs while he was finishing up the dishes.

I took my special nightie out and hung it up and stood there in the mirror naked. Still drinking on my fourth glass of wine. Ethan walks in and grab my waist and started kissing my neck. My nipples instantly starting getting hard and I could feel his penis up against my butt getting bigger. I wanted to turn around and grab it but the neck kisses felt too good. Hell if I don’t sit down I’m either going to drop this glass or my knees are going buckle. Either way those both would be very embarrassing. His hand made their way around to my breast, rubbing my nipples gentlely. I push my weight back on him; placing my glass on the dresser. I reached back to touch his penis, whoa it was batting a four hundred right now. I turned around to face him at the same time pulling his joggers down; trying to get them off. We were in full stride with our kisses. He guided me to the bed and turned me around. Now I’m on my stomach; ass up. He was on top of me kissing my back to my buttocks. I have never had a man kiss my vaginal from the back but he cuffed his hands underneath my stomach and spread my butt cheeks and dived face first into my vjay jay. I clutched the bed sheets, my mouth open but nothing was coming out but instrumental tones of enjoyment. “Oh shit baby” I screamed. He was feasting like if I was a glazed buttered ham. “Don’t stop , don’t stop” I was saying to myself; almost at my climax. “Oh oh baby,” I released so hard I got light headed and weak all at the same time. My vjay Jay has never experienced oral sex in this position. I had to get a second wind but kept masturbating back to back. “I want to feel you” I told him. I turned over on my back pulling at his pants. He stood there naked, with strong broad shoulders and his penis at attention. “Baby get a condom?” I said. There was silence for a few seconds. “Damn I forgot to get more babe” he said. “Shit” I was thinking and looking at his penis at the same time. I knew I could not be having sex unprotected; plus I wasn’t on any birth control but I wanted his ass so bad. I decide too…….

Black Girls Lives Matter (R. Kelly is sick) by A. Dakala

I have bought every cd that R. Kelly has ever dropped until now. He even wrote and produced “Spend the night” by a group of guys (N-Phase) I grew up with. At this point I can give a damn about his talent; there is something seriously wrong with this grown man that meds can not cure.

There’s three addictive drugs in the world; Crack, Heroin and R. Kelly.

Hate me as much as you want; but I got to speak my mind about this disease that Robert “R. Kelly” Kelly has. Preying on young immature girls so he can manipulate their minds is not only sick but events of a sociopath. A real man would send these girls home; knowing that they have mothers and fathers who are hurt and torn deep down in their souls. Yet and still R. Kelly seems to play, plot and prey on these young victims by using his celebrity status as bait to catch his victims. Soon the money is going to run out and all the people around him that’s protecting him will either go down with him and turn against him. There’s no other options.

This has gone on long enough; dated back to the sex tape when he had sex with a underage child. He needs help and someone, somebody is not doing their job. Either there’s some people getting paid off or they’re just as much involved. How can you be a monster, predator, sex offender, child molester, manipulator, abuser and still able to walk the streets and make money from music; glorifying acts of sexual abuse?

Bill Cosby went to jail from acts that happen over 30 years ago; like he should have. Donald Trump should be next and not running this country. These R. Kelly acts; not accusations are happening now. Welfare checks are happening now.

Lawyers, Judges, DA’s, Prosecutors, Warden, Police and whoever will listen, do your damn jobs. Save these girls from this demon. If these were white females; he would be on death row years ago. Black girls lives matter; Lock R. Kelly up!

High Maintenance won’t find you love by A. Dakala

So you are a high maintenance woman looking for Mr. Right to settle down and fall in love with. Remember first impressions means everything in the eyes of a man and woman; what a person sees is what they have to deal with short or long term.

Not saying that it’s impossible and women can’t have exactly what they want when it comes to a man but think about the man on the other end interested in you as a woman; what is he thinking when he sees the name brand clothing, designer nails, flawless make-up, luxury cars and the Ms. Independent attitude? What can a man bring to the table that you don’t already provide for yourself? A man’s hindsight is beauty and looks doing a first impression. If it looks expensive during the first impression; a lot of the times you have lost us on the first meet and greet. Yes it’s very expensive to date; a simple night out for dinner would cost you anywhere from eighty to one hundred and fifty dollars give or take.

So ladies there’s a way to still be high maintenance, looking good, have nice things and show your Independence without seeking a man with money.

There’s different ways to take care of a man and woman’s needs that are not materialistic. Sometimes the best love is the love that’s genuine; not the type of love that you pay for through monetary contributions.

This new generation has lost his way when it comes to dating. Someone, some friend, some Hater has embedded in some women’s mind that is not okay to take your man out on a date and spend money on him. Just because you’re walking through Phipps Plaza or Lenox Mall don’t mean you can’t afford it. A lot of people are driving luxury cars that they can’t even afford and lying their heads where they’re just tenants paying somebody else’s mortgage. So let’s get to the bread and butter of why being high maintenance won’t find you real love.

Story starts

It’s 2019 a new year, a new look on life, New year’s resolutions and new goals in mind. My name is Arthur Jenkins; I’ve been on my job for 20 years; I’ve grind to get to where I’m at. Living in Atlanta Georgia were ratio is thirty to one; it’s hard to find a real quality woman who’s really looking for love and not an insurance policy. Society has painted the picture of lifestyles of the rich and famous. It seems like everyone’s looking for someone with money, a nice car or living in a mini mansion; when they not bringing nothing to the table.

I love the finer things in life and things that I work hard for the things that I grind for, the things that I feel I deserve as an independent man of standards. So ask yourself; what’s more important; love or luxuries? Yes you can have both, but one out weighs the other.

So I met Bethany Curry, walking through the Mall of Georgia last night. I was there shopping for a pair of Cole Haan shoes. Of course I was dressed down, I had just left the gym and wanted to run inside before the mall closed.

I couldn’t help notice a beautiful mocha chocolate stallion walking towards me with highlighted hair and no rings on a finger. She looked and spoke with her lips in passing. I didn’t want to make it obvious and look back as most of us men do; so I dropped my keys just to look back. She also paused and look back thinking that maybe she had dropped her keys and we made eye contact. She smiled; then went into Victoria Secrets; I paused for second. Today I will be shopping for panties for an unknow female that doesn’t exist but I’m determined to make contact with chocolate mocha. I could tell she was high maintenance; she smelled good, she looks amazing and body was banging. I know she works out daily and she was working those Gucci heels.

I approached her like a gentleman. “Hi beautiful, how are you?”

A Heart Choice to make by A. Dakala

Waddell Crosby wasn’t your typical African American male with a college degree, tons of street smarts and loved by the ladies. He was the kind of man that a woman could love one night and call her best friend on other days; someone who would have your back and go to war with you whether you was wrong or right. Once Waddell was committed to you he would give you 100% of him; no part time anything in his life with reason.

A single man who could give a woman more than just a materialistic diamond ring or a Tiffany bracelet; he was the kind of man that most women would dream of having. Someone who showed unconditional love whether it was holding her hand while driving, arms locked while walking across the street or kissing on her neck standing in the checkout line at Walmart. Regardless anyone around Waddell would know that he showed his love to whoever he was with; his smile would light up a room; his well-groomed beard was somewhat perfect as if he was modeling his beard for a magazine cover, his cologne scent traveled from block the block. Fahrenheit was his favorite cologne; both men and women would always approached him and compliment him on how good he smelled.

But now there’s a new year approaching; 2019! Waddell is ready to settle down with one special woman in his life. The problem he’s having is he has been dating consistently three different women. There’s been no commitment to either woman just consistently dating, conversing on the phone but he have had sex with all three of them at some point throughout the course of dating them. Each one of these females bring something different to the table that one doesn’t have and now Waddell has to decide on the qualities that these female brings. Which one are branded qualities and which ones are qualities that could make a break a good love relationship.

First there was Fresca Sparkle, she’s sweet as black cherry citrus on a hot summer day but cold as winter. She was smart as Albert Einstein; love to read books and would correct you for using improper grammar as if she was a school teacher wearing Gucci shades standing in high heels. Well educated; holding a master’s degree. She really could have been a doctor. The problem with Fresca; she wasn’t consistent or persistent and couldn’t remember what she did day after day. She wasn’t into fashions, brands didn’t mean nothing to her. A typical day of dressing up for her would be wearing a nice sweatsuit with some flip flops and she would throw her long black hair back into a ponytail but she was sexy as hell though and very beautiful. She reminded me of a California woman cool, calm and collective that just wanted to be loved by a good man. Sex with her was like flipping a coin, some days it was good, some days it was just ok and sometimes it didn’t exist. When we was out on a date we had a great time holding hands, conversing and laughing with each other as if we were best friends and lovers; but there was another side to her that I hated. She always wanted to play the victim never was wrong, always was right and not to mention I caught her in so many lies I just never addressed it, it just wasn’t that serious to me. Another thing that I observed was all of her friends seem to be gay or lesbians.

One thing I did love about her though; no matter what she had my back. She never put her friends before her man even though I truly wasn’t her man but we were dating and she would drop her plans that she had to spend time with me on any given day. Fresca loved cleaning her house always kept it clean very family oriented; that definitely was a plus coming from a man who wanted to have kids and build his own foundation of a family. She paid her bills on time, she didn’t club, she didn’t drink unless it was socially and she never smoked. She was a good girl trying to be better and made it to the scale of wifey material possibly.

Secondly there was Constant Bauman; sexy as hell on the outside, wore the latest fashions, smell good and look good in everything she wore; a true diamond in the rough. Whatever the latest fashion and brands out there where she had it or plan to get it. The problem I had with her was she had low self-esteem and she couldn’t seem to make her own decisions without seeking the advice of her fake friends. Once again another female playing the victim like her shit don’t stink. Another issue I had with her was it seemed that all of her friends around her were gay or lesbians even though she claimed that she was 100% straight. I can tell in conversation that she’s dated a lot of men in her past life not that she’s had sex with all of them but she’s dating a lot of men most of them were drug dealers, on drugs at some point or proclaim to have money.

Now what I did love about her is the sex we had was off the chart; it was no holds bar. Whatever we wanted to do we did. I was truly addicted to making love to this woman; it was always exciting, full of energy and she threw it back just as much as I gave it to her. I can honestly say I never had a sexual complaint when it came to her, hell I’m thinking about sexing her right now as I’m writing this. She loved cleaning her house; always kept it clean; sometimes I wondered was it all just a showboat to impress people. Was she wifey material? She could be but there was a few things that she definitely would need to work on; like handling the same things that she dishes out. She was a work in progress; a good girl trying to be better.

Thirdly there’s Anastasia Faust; also a very smart and intelligent individual that would sometimes give you the impression that she knew way more than you did on any subject, any topic, any time of the day. She would definitely intimidate a weak man especially when it comes to making life decisions. Granted every man in her past life followed her lead as if she wore the pants. I guess that’s what happened when a strong-minded woman meets a man with no potential and the men in her past had no potential for what I’m hearing.

One of the things I didn’t like about her is not having enough drive in her life to do better or want more. Yes she was college educated but I still feel like she didn’t apply herself. She had a great mind for business, good with numbers, great with her hands; love to figure things out or read instructions and put things together. Family oriented on a scale of 1 to 10 I would say she was a four. The type of woman who at some point in her life wanted her freedom away from kids. Now when it comes to having a clean house, she damn sure was a pack rat and the whole time that we’ve been dating; I never seen her pick up a broom, a mop or even dust rag; kind of reminded me of a hoarder.

One thing I did love about her is the sex was great. Definitely no holds bar; there was no rules or no regulations; she could go all night; I made a tap out a few times. I never had to initiate sex with her as soon as she seen me it was hugs, kisses and then she would start unbutton my clothes. A true man’s dream; I’m closing my eyes now just picturing the softness of her lips on my entire body from head to toe. Well she wifey material definitely with alittle adjustment. She didn’t club, she didn’t smoke and she would only drink socially; she just loved having a good time and just wanted to be loved by a good man. A good girl trying to be better.

So I decided in the year 2019 I was going to make a final decision and choose only one of these ladies to be a part of my life, my circle, my growth and the last brick to my foundation. So I decided to choose from a very heart decision; Ms.!

Fingers crossed under oath by A. Dakala

I truly didn’t give a damn about telling the truth under oath; I raised my right hand with pride put left hand on the Bible and told God to forgive me silently as I close my eyes. I wanted to be picked as a juror as badly as I wanted to hit the lottery. I had some inside connections at the courthouse that made sure my application was put upfront. So when they sent me the letter in the mail; I said yes the day has come for my family to get Justice for my cousin Jelly. See my nickname was peanut butter and anytime you seen me, you seen jelly; peanut butter and jelly, we we’re different but one in the same. The man who murdered my cousin street name was Breadman; Street Hustler, con man, pathological liar but he also was jealous of everything Peanut Butter and Jelly did in the streets. So we set him up and planted evidence that would only make him the prime suspect.

I meant I was nervous the first day the all of the jurors had to check in at the courthouse. I prayed that if they ran a background check on me that I didn’t have any type of open warrants that resurfaced from the years of dirt that me and jelly did growing up. I didn’t care what anybody else in the room decided or did if they was chosen to be a juror, my mind was already made up that his ass would get convicted. I knew this wasn’t going to be a case of a hung jury. I was going to make sure that his ass did his time and if anybody felt like he wasn’t guilty they was going to have to deal with me. I had a back-up plan for a back-up plan that backed up my backup plan. I’ve already spotted out the weakest link in the room some dusty old ass lady hair whiter than snow looking at me from the corner of her eyes. Then there’s this white guy who wouldn’t make eye contact with me probably voted for Donald Trump acting like he was scared as hell, he had bit all of his finger nails down to the fingers.

As they passed around the questionnaire application for everyone to fill out. I raised my head and scanned around the room just to see who was really into filling out the paperwork who I need to keep my eye on. These questions would determine if you would be a good fit or not; I lied on every question that was asked even down to my ethnic group. Hell know I wasn’t just African-American today; no not today. Today I was African-American mixed with whatever the hell they wanted me to be mixed with; I was going to become a juror.

As we all got separated in groups I made sure I did not communicate with a soul in the room. I had my shirt button to the neck like a nerd, I wore reading glasses that I could barely see out of and make sure I didn’t make any eye contact with the deputy that kept peeping his peasy ass head in and out of the door checking on everyone. “Where’s Cabana Sienna?” He asked. I raise my eyebrows and look over the top of my glasses staring at the deputy and slightly raised my finger the signal that I was him. “Come with me” he said. The little dusty ass lady made some sound gesture as I walked by; I looked back at her and rolled my eyes. I wanted to pat my ass at her but she turned looked in the opposite direction.

“Cabana Sienna is everything on your application truthful to the best of your knowledge” the judge said. I had my fingers crossed as my left hand was stuffed in my front pocket; and my right hand raised. The judge gave me a stamped document and a name tag that had my name on it and I was officially Juror number 1 1 1 7.

I had made it to the final stage and considered an official juror in the murder case of De’Angelo “Jelly” Sienna.

On the first day of the murder case this will be the first time that I had seen Jelly’s murderer face to face in court. As I stared at him without blinking an eye; he notice me and in his own words silently uttered the words Butter you up next.

Lawyers for both sides presented their evidence; they either was going to spare his life or take his life and my job was to take his life by all means necessary.

Day two and day three passes with more evidence; more finger pointing and a lot more work that I needed to do. He had no alibi; there was no witnesses.

On the fourth day unexpectedly we were dismissed; there was no evidence presented this day but they did announce that they had a witness that came forward my heart dropped.

On the 5th day as all the jurors who was selected gathered together to talk about the evidence on the murder case; there were a few cops who I didn’t quite remember or recognize that was on the scene 5 years ago. Also the old Dusty lady, the silent racist white guy who couldn’t make eye contact with me and some Asian chick who didn’t have on a name tag, but had a note pad and pen in her hand were the chess pieces of the game. Maybe the Asian chick was there just taking notes or she could have been one of the jurors who knows, who cares I had a job to do; I needed to get somebody’s ass convicted of Jelly’s murder. I was nervous, I started to sweating wondering who was this witness. As I replayed that night back in my head there couldn’t have been a witness it was only me, Breadman and Jelly.

On the 6th day I was pissed because the whole room was undecided; pretty much a split down the middle of a conviction. I stood my ground and tried to convince others who didn’t want to convict, the reason why a conviction was necessary. After nearly six hours, It seemed to have worked as I had planned. Everybody talked as if a conviction was the best solution in the murder case. We were just waiting to give the judge our vote.

We could hear the Deputies walking down the hallway towards the room that we were waiting in. Then the door open an a Deputy stuck his head in the room and said “Butter, Judge Gotcha’ass needs to have a word with you immediately.”

Quepasa by A. Dakala

Sitting at the bar having my usual shots of tequila. Mentally I’m exhausted from work and my home life seems to be a joggling act; trying to get my house sold. Not to mention I had to curse out my next door neighbor for allowing his deranged mutt to continuously shit on my lawn after I threaten to call the dog pound.

Once again I find myself giving someone chance after chance. Back to my mental exhaustion; I guess it has a lot to do with how my love life seems to be a run away train at times. Then the bombshell of the entire week was finding out my man has a child on the way with my manager’s sister that he has been keeping a secret from me. Though I didn’t know he dated this incompetent ghetto barbie until I saw his picture on my manager’s Facebook page. As I think back to it now I’m wondering is this the reason I keep getting looked over on promotions I apply for and my home sex life seems to be a daily excuse.

Today hasn’t been a good day; the ghetto Barbie is here visiting her sister; my manager at the office and I have to look her in her face. I want to curse her ass out and beat that ass but I blame my so call man. I know my manager knows a lot more then I do about the situation. If I could just get her ass fired or key her car may be flatten her tires or loosen the lugs; I would feel better. Mentally I want to get revenge on everyone around me that’s involved with this shit show. Being the Christian woman I’m trying to be i know that’s not right.

Last night he called me trying to apologize in one breath and then in another breath he’s trying to say that she was there for him when I wasn’t. I guess me giving up my dreams of getting my master degree and taking out loans so his ass could have a car to drive to work or paying his past due bills so his beacon score could look halfway decent wasn’t me being there for him. This sorry son-of-a-bitch didn’t even have the nerve to come home on my birthday and I took off that day from his request.

Tonight I think I’m putting his ass out I don’t give a damn where he goes, I know he can go stay with her; for my understanding she lives with her sister. I think today is going to be my last day at work; I’ve had it up to here I have a nice savings account that I can afford to be without a job for at least 6 months. There should be no problem for me finding a job and after tonight I know shit will hit the fan at work because I’m about let it all out.

So my plan is to prepare a nice lovely steak dinner, with salad, loaded baked potatoes; and his favorite bottle of wine. I might have Marvin Gaye or Teddy pendergrass playing and then I’mma let his ass have it as I throw all that shit in the garbage can, with a thank you card and his suit case standing by the exit!

Dirty bird by A.Dakala

Deuce “Bird” Fletcher was a name the streets ran from, was a name that nobody wanted to cross paths with. His background spoke for itself; the outside of him look like a normal African American male that had his shit together and in order. He was clean-cut, always smell good; wearing the newest colonge, clothes were casket Sharp but he was a psycho, a pathological liar who would kill a man at a drop of a dime. Known to tie bricks to a man’s ankles and throw him off the spaghetti junction bridge during rush hour traffic. This negro was a monster; a nightmare you would only see in your dreams but would have you waking you at 3am in the morning pissing in your clothes.

Though he represented Atlanta Georgia to the fullest; no one knew his background, where he was born and raised ,who his parents were or even if he had siblings. Not to mention if there were any offsprings he fathered throughout the years; society could only pray there wasn’t another one like him anywhere on earth.

Every relationship he has ever had with a female would only last 6 to 8 months before they would pack their bags and relocate to an unknown state; due to the type of individual he was capable of being.

Revenge to him was like an appetizer on a menu; you will get served what you deserve.

The other day a motorist cut him off by running a red light and he followed the vehicle until it came to a stopping point; their residents. He stood their at the driver door as the gentleman roll down his window in fear. Without saying a word he tasered the guy, “now you will think twice about cutting someone else off.” The man slumped over in the front seat as if he was having a seizure. Bird put the taser back in his coat pocket, got in his car and drive off like he was just visiting for Sunday dinner.

No one knew about the other personality of Bird that always seem to bring him to a much needed calm state of mind.

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