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Mah' War sto'ies and bio

Name: Jeff

farm: Soudside Middle Farm Kin'ston Jamaica

Adress: 207 Stuart and the Avenue

Octoba' 31st 1998,

Ah Halloween some classic day uh celebrashun and doodads dat ya' don’t real wanna recon' in but ya' do cause ya' wants' candy. Now even dough dere be a war, de camp still finds ways t'ya' know cut out candy t'de kids uh de Jamaican religion. 'S coo', bro. So's we would brin' little children into enemy territo'y t'cut dem sucky ass treats cuz' dat’s how we wuz. Now Francis and Edan wuz some little too…. inappropriate fo' de little children so's we found some compromise… we tied dem togeda' and called dem Siamese twins fo' Halloween, so's we wuz all happy. Now we wuz handin' out apples and o'anges and crackers t'de little kids cuz' when ya' wo'k yo' ass off fo' oda' sucka's’s freedom t'braid dere fro ya' don’t real wanna be fair ya' know whut ah' mean? So's den dis little goat came down t'us and said, “Please sir kin ah' have candy fo' I’m so's sick ah' have not tasted candy in so's long. What it is, Mama!” ah' figured hey ya' know whut ah' should be one uh dem big broda' sucka's! Right on! So's I gave ha' candy and she had some heart attack right dere on de spot but it inspired me t'mento' some child. Not plum any child, some child who wuz sick, and had likes some radical disease where likes dey smelt real baaaad. ah' looked far upside yonda' fo' some little broda' o' sump'n but da damn only doodad de camp had wuz some kid named Gradith but he had dis thing fo' de Animorph scribblin's and playin' de mandolin. 'S coo', bro. He would be mah' last choice. So's I had t'cross enemy territo'ies…. Onto de camp uh de afro’s… but mah' camp would neva' let me cross onto enemy territo'y. Slap mah fro! ah' had t'be slick, sly, and charmin'. So's I crawled below on de underground tunnel dat we made, which made me dinkin'. Couldn’t we plum likes plant some nuke or sump'n in de tunnel and blow dem all t'hell… o' course we could but den dere would be no more war stories and ah' don’t gots some baaaad enough imagination t'make more links. So's I dug mah'self down hopin' ah' wouldn’t land in some radical chamba' of dead. ah' unfo'tunately kind'a dun did, ah' dug mah'self down t'see some general fo' de afro’s his dojigger “Count Shavenew, so cut me some slack, Jack.” Mr. Ah be baaad... Shavenew’s fust dojigger wuz Doe’y and he wuz knode fo' tryin' t'conqua' everydin' and he wuz 'estremely sho't, kind'a likes Napoleon. 'S coo', bro. Count Shavenew wuz tryin' t'make instant potatoes until he noticed ah' wuz dere and immediately pulled out firearm. WORD! “Whut de hell is you hangin' here?” he demanded t'know, so cut me some slack, Jack. ah' told him how ah' plum wants'ed some child t'protect and tell some sucka how much ah' loved. De count automatically began cryin' and as ah' told him mo'e he began t'suck his thumb guilt free. ah' began t'wonder. Ah be baaad... ah' den took Doe’y as mah' little broda' and we began playin' baseball togeda' and oda' real diggin' hot doodads. We split dough afta' we wuz runnin' drough some flowa' field and his head hit some random porcelain bubbla' and he wuzwasted instantly. Slap mah fro!

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