Knock Around Guy
He was .........
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
There is a saying in New York City, from the streets. Having a reputation as a stand-up guy, someone that "had your back"
was the highest compliment you could give.
Knock around guy was one of these guys, someone you could always count on in a street war, A guy that wore the scars of battle proudly, the busted nose, the scar tissue build up around his eyebrows, these markers shouted to the world "do not fuck with this guy" tread at your own peril. The knuckles of his huge hands scared and calloused from his many combats.
For a living this guy use to "bounce" although most of the time a simple word form knock-around was enough to defuse most situations with no violence.
Knock-around had a secret, a secret he shared with no one. He wanted to be At peace, with himself and the world at large.
Knock-around was a ladies man, for some reason ladies seemed to be drawn to knock-around, it sure was not his looks, he was by no means a pretty boy, something he scorned by the way. Maybe it was in a city filled with so much violence, they felt safe with him at there side.
He fought most of his life, from the age of 15 on all he could remember was endless combats, endless visits to the doctors, till he learned to repair his own body, he has skill with a suturing needle and catgut, he got so good at sewing himself up soon you could not tell the difference from his work and the doctors, he took pride in this.
By the time he was 22 he was known in all 5 boros as someone to be reckoned with, He relished the fear in men's eyes as they saw him and the looks of lust from the women's faces.
One night while walking on park ave. between 122nd street and 123rd street someone put four bullets in knock-arounds back, he died the way he lived, violently.
His last thought before the black came was "peace at last" then he expired. some constructive criticism is most welcomed, otherwise please behave, I am in a MOOD today.
was the highest compliment you could give.
Knock around guy was one of these guys, someone you could always count on in a street war, A guy that wore the scars of battle proudly, the busted nose, the scar tissue build up around his eyebrows, these markers shouted to the world "do not fuck with this guy" tread at your own peril. The knuckles of his huge hands scared and calloused from his many combats.
For a living this guy use to "bounce" although most of the time a simple word form knock-around was enough to defuse most situations with no violence.
Knock-around had a secret, a secret he shared with no one. He wanted to be At peace, with himself and the world at large.
Knock-around was a ladies man, for some reason ladies seemed to be drawn to knock-around, it sure was not his looks, he was by no means a pretty boy, something he scorned by the way. Maybe it was in a city filled with so much violence, they felt safe with him at there side.
He fought most of his life, from the age of 15 on all he could remember was endless combats, endless visits to the doctors, till he learned to repair his own body, he has skill with a suturing needle and catgut, he got so good at sewing himself up soon you could not tell the difference from his work and the doctors, he took pride in this.
By the time he was 22 he was known in all 5 boros as someone to be reckoned with, He relished the fear in men's eyes as they saw him and the looks of lust from the women's faces.
One night while walking on park ave. between 122nd street and 123rd street someone put four bullets in knock-arounds back, he died the way he lived, violently.
His last thought before the black came was "peace at last" then he expired. some constructive criticism is most welcomed, otherwise please behave, I am in a MOOD today.
