Like he’s probably in his moms basement, laying in bed, thinking “fuck I didn’t expect to get this far.”
That or frantically looking up Gray Hounds to Mexico.
Like he’s probably in his moms basement, laying in bed, thinking “fuck I didn’t expect to get this far.”
That or frantically looking up Gray Hounds to Mexico.
I hope he’s stepping of the plane somewhere where the cocktails are cold, the sun is warm, and the weather is always No Extradition Treaty.
That is the way to do it, right? Dump the bike in Central park, change clothes and just immediately head for JFK.