10 June 2021

The Tropics were done for. Out of ideas, and against all lawful leverage.

Conventionally, in times of conflict, the boys would call on Romano for intimidation. But he was a bull without horns now.

Before time, he would crack and break free from the Pen. He lined up the wall that divided the teams, and ran full steam ahead. Bulldozing the wall, and after the flesh of the Mexicans, he would find….

A silhouette, there standing in the frame of the front door……

El Fosso.

The holder of the land and father of Josh.

A recluse man who had been teaching overseas.

You said it….El Paso Elementary.

“I have returned for my students”

As the dust settled from the rubble of Romanos destruction, El Fosso would cast his eyes on the home he left for his son. It was in pieces. Now a product of five years of frat house behaviour. 7 couches, a broken spa, a new wall that had now been torn down, dildos everywhere and a group of tenants battling the loss of their franchise.

He was a wise man. He was on a mission.

He had flown home to save the boys and return them home to El Paso.

But he had no vessel to do so. And short of the coin to afford a SFIDA transit.

In the space of 7 months, he would use his Mexican students to renovate his broken home. He would sell the house and buy a yacht.

By November he had set off into the night with the 5 boys from El Paso, traversing the sea and returning them home once and for all.

The Tropics would re-establish, barring the Vulture from attending any games effective immediately.

They would run on to win the next 3 championships, reclaiming their magnitude on Monday night Basketball.

From the Archives.

Bryote Ugly.