ninjamonkey73 Posted Aug 2, 2010, 4:08 pm	Hey, I'm Johnson. Dale Johnson, from Smegma Crazies. Yeah, that's us. You've heard of us way down here? Anyway... When Glenn Torres took over the gang, he decided that some of the newer drivers -- like myself -- ought to be shipped off to nearby towns to "maintain a presence." Funny, he only picked guys that don't have Mexican last names. Anyway... My ass is gettin' BORED down here. You guys ever have old-fashioned RACES down here? Might as well have some fun while I'm stuck in this dump... Anyone ever wants to create a Race, be my guest!
ninjamonkey73 Posted Aug 11, 2010, 5:30 am	Daaaaamn. This town, as the song goes, is gettin' like a Ghost Town!
*Grograt* gary.r.horder@gmail.com Posted Aug 11, 2010, 8:35 am	As a brothers of metal scout passes through, he sees the forlorn ganger sitting outside the bar. He pulls his osprey over with a shriek of tires. " Wassup dude " shouts mosher " you the new guardian of that their haunted race track " Spinning his feels, throwing up dirt and dust, he drives away
ninjamonkey73 Posted Aug 19, 2010, 4:38 am	The bartender clears his throat... "There a Dale Johnson here?" The gigantic teenager rose and approached the bar.  "That's me." The bartender pushed a sheet of paper across the bar.  "This Fax just came for you." Dale grabbed the sheet of copier-paper and squinted at it. Attn: Dale Johnson Care of: Mezcal's I hear you've been bitchin' about your job.  Well, I've got some good news for you.  You're fired! Sincerely, Glenn "El Toro" Torres Dale cursed and crumpled up the paper, hurling it at the startled barkeep, and stomped out of the bar.  He marched to the town gates, paused, then kept walking...