WHERE THE HELL IS CHARLES BRUSCATO?! the only reason i will attend my 10 year high school reunion will be to find this guy and give him a hug. we used to take the same way home from school. i can remember having to swerve repeatedly to avoid snickers bars, shrimp cocktails, roasted duck or whatever he had lying around his car. i'm talking about him like he's dead. i guess he really could be, but probably not since he has yet to open up a seedy night club, invest in a porn company, marry a tiny asian chick or fight chris penn in a cage for the title of "hairiest back." i've literally seen every fucking dick-licker from our class in the last 6 years except this guy. witness protection program? maybe he was involved in some kind of multi-national jewel heist and had to flee to his father's property in boca raton to start a surf-board shop as a cover for his underground drug and prostitution ring. i don't know why, but i always envisioned him going on to be really, really successful at something totally immoral. he probably just works at a radio shack in northeast and eats ham all day. FUCK. the possibilities are endless.
i just tried to call him. i looked his name up on the internet and saw a phone number for a charles bruscato who works at the jackson county courthouse. i knew it wasn't him but i called anyway. i was gonna pull some longmont shit but i couldn't come up with anything good. i really need to work on prank calling more people. this is stupid.
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3 comments:
im'a swoop down like a buzzard, bud.
i have no clue how that guy keeps his cleat-bringin', extravagant man-being facade up- dude is sick with it.
we must train with him in the hilly terrain known as longmont.
dude, i think about that guy at least once a week. it's weird, huh? remember how he went to rockhurst college when peter did and you lived there, but we still never saw him? i do.
word. homie was elusive. i miss him.
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