The Grove

"Yea man, I'm partying down in the Grove."

"Haha. Alright, I'll be there soon."

Now see, if you're not from North Jersey, you're not going to know what the fuck I'm talking about when I say "The Grove". Well, picture the worst, most badass white trash motherfuckers you can think of, and then downgrade it a notch and think about what their house must look like.

The Grove is a floodzone built under a couple of railroad tresses that is supposed to be knocked down by the city a week and a half ago. They are shit houses, to say the least.

One of my boys is drinking down here, and I've come to see him. The house he's at has an above ground pool and what looks like a pool table covered in hay where his mother is growing garlic, evidently. These boys sling the white lady like she's going out of style, and smoke the green leaf every fucking second. The lad that owns the house is a good sort, very tall with about six teeth, but a good soul lies in him and you can tell as soon as he opens his mouth. He likes me even more when he figures out that we like the same music. That's the thing with the people down here, and it's probably why my buddy invited me to come down- he knows that I can deal with them. As we talk, it's clear that I know alot of the same people that these fuckers know.

Another kid is down there, a guinea who looks alot like Christopher from the Sopranos, aside from the wide eyed coked up gaze he casts on everything and everyone. One look at him makes me remember very quickly why snorting just ain't for me- this motherfucker is everything you don't want your kid to be. I'm careful with him, agreeing when I'm supposed to, because getting this fucking guy angry isn't worth it. I could hurt him by himself, but he is certainly the kind that would stab you if he got the chance, and wouldn't realize it until he's been locked up for three months.

We drink a bunch of beers, and the coke that they're supposed to get never comes through, and I am grateful (that shit is just bad news, and I'm not fond of being around it). There is probably some moral to this story that I'm missing, but it won't come through tonight. The fact is that I've got more people I know that would be willing to pull a gun on someone quicker than look at you, and I dig that. I've been invited back for a bonfire at some point, and I will probably end up there. It is funny, but some of those guys are the most loyal motherfuckers you will find, because they don't give two shits about how muc money you got, or what part of my town your from- if you're down, they'll lay down in traffic for you, and their's something to be said for that.

I'm too fuckin drunk to keep typoing, so if you're not down with this, then fuck off.