taco eater :
The buoyman from Medieval kineval headquarters, mels angels hideout
The sun was setting on Bolinas, hard and fast like glass Joe, just like my baby liked it, before I lost her. They call me the buoyman, and I've been here, wandering aimlessly with a buoy around my neck since 1981. I was moped champion in those days. On a road trip with my family, I stopped at a random moped shop where they sold me some random bearings and sent me on my way. It was that final bunnyhop over a mangy dog named Trevor that was the end of me, my axle snapped, and so did my dreams, my bearings spilled out on the street like british petroleum. The next mowning I was pissing behind Smileys when I heard the danger zone blasting in my ears. Did karaoke start early today? Then I saw a taco truck pull up. A man hopped out, danger zone still blasting, and introduced himself as Rufus. He handed me this axle and some bearings. He even gave me a taco. I removed my buoy, handed it to Rufus, and the rest is history.
Life in the dangerzone part 1 
