re: A Bizarre Story About Freshman Year

Not in Louisiana

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John Besh? The guy who owns the restaurant "Mr. John's"?

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are you talking about mr johns steak house on st. Charles .....

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BRPD/LSUPD is a joke of a department

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I know the trend is to hate cops here, but I never had trouble with them.

In fact, one even helped me out when I locked my keys in the car, even though they aren't supposed to do that per policy.


And there's that guy who rides around campus with a contraption/cage on the back his dog stays in who they haven't shot.

Tom or Thomas would be my first guess

Charlie my second.

Possibly.

I'd argue you'd say that even of it was right though.


I'm also 600 miles from LSU.

If I still was on campus, you really think it would be that hard to find out who the manager of the 459 is? His office is right by the entry.

That's my point is all.

I would imagine nobody really GAF what my name is

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At one point one of the cops tripped and over this guy's bike and became super embarrassed. He claimed the cop got up and told him that he will never work another day on LSU campus ever again and if he tries, he will be arrested for trespassing

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Damn that cop must have been pretty embarrassed to fire someone for tripping on a strokey guys bike......

Time to man up Capt Panic..... This is a teachable moment

Moral of the story: Cops are dicks who like to play big shot.

Here's what I think happened:


You used to perform sexual favors at the "459" for hook ups on meals. You know handies for lunch, blowies for dinner. The dining staff would call you to setup meets using the cover that you know the manager and usually ask for some sort of favor (non-sexual) from you to help out with a problem. This way the meeting gets set and anyone who happens to be listening in is none the wiser.
However you also did stuff on the side for drugs and a little extra cash. Usually with some unsavory people. Well, one night you were doing your thing and the john caves the side of your head in with a brick in order to skip out on payment. You come to with a severe headache, but otherwise you seem fine. You go home and not really knowing why you were where you where in the first place, but don't think much about it and start living your life like a normal kid.
Now though, you starting getting unexplained phone call from people at the 459 asking for weird shite. You see, the part of your brain where you stored all the man-whore stuff was damaged by the brick. You don't remember the stuff you did or the system for hook ups. Nothing about that part of your life.

So the question is: do you go back to that part of your life, or give up the peen forever?