John's a silly boy.

All you have to do is walk within a 100 meter radius from my house and something fucked up will happen. Like the other day, i was taking a photo of the street, and this bloke came running down like he was being chased. I quickly stood aside to let the man pass through. He ran right past my house, which is basically at the end of the street, and flung himself out onto the main road. I stepped off my driveway to have a look at where he was running to, and found that he had stopped at the T-Junction. I yelled out to the chap, to tell him to fall back from the dangerous busy road. He didnt reply. He just stood and waited for whatever it was he was waiting for. Then it came. RIGHT FROM BEHIND!!! An old freind, whom i'd known from the good old Kimberly Days, drove up in his replica Interceptor, and obliterated the fellow. John, who i will name him sorely because that was the name given to him by his mother when he was born, reversed up to be in line with my driveway, and called to me.
'Get in old dog! We got some messin about to catch up on,'
So i hopped in the car and we drove up the street, to number 87. John hopped out of the car, and reached in the back window. He pulled his shotgun, and pumped it.
'Its time to kick some innocent ass.' He cackled maniacally. I needed to stop him, we was going to kill innocent people. I couldnt let that happen. But today i had lunch with Brenda, some girl i make up as an excuse to get out of things. SO i stated my plight with John, and off i went to have lunch with Brenda, so to speak.