Hi, Mom — hope the hogs are okay (Part 8)

September 16, 2014 § 8 Comments

Hi, Mom

Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that TCEQ has come down hard on Pap. I can’t believe that would happen in a free country like America. The Pilkingtons are a bunch of crybabies and always have been ever since we used to beat up little Brucie-poo back in kindergarten. If they don’t like the smell of the hog farm why don’t they just move? And all those people who complain about the hogs*** and chemicals from Pap’s farm that gets into the groundwater, I bet you don’t hear them complaining about our hog farm at breakfast when they’re stabbing each other’s hands with their forks to see who gets the last slice of bacon.

It is so unfair and I hope his appeal passes. Reagan was right when he said government is the problem, mom, it sure is. By the way, I’m glad that Pap is still getting his hog producer subsidy payments from the Dept. of Ag. That’s the least our nation can do for his service.

Anyway, as you can probably imagine things have not gone too smoothly with Cindy, and thanks for the $500, but she has already spent it. We enjoyed three or four Totino’s extra large with some silver bullets, that is some good eating, mom!!

But anyway Cindy has been a big pain and I was right she came out here because she’s lonely but you will be shocked to hear that I think she has been playing me. She went into the toilet to wash the pizza stains off her t-shirt (do you remember that Hogs & Dogs tee that Pap gave her when she came over last Christmas, the one with the guns and the dog dressed up like Jesus with the AK-47 shooting up the atheists, that one) and I took a look at her cell phone.

I typed in the password “password” and it worked, Cindy isn’t the brightest Taser in the utility belt. Anyway guess who gave her the bright idea to come out here, yep, Higgins. They have been texting each other for, get this, the last two years. It made me furious to read some of that stuff, he calls her pussy cat, yeah, more like alley cat who will scratch your eyes out for a can of food or a rummage through your dumpster.

Higgins has her thinking I’m getting canned from Team Ding-a-Ling and they will give my apartment to him. Higgins is living over in North Hollywood with some guys he says that’s where the movie stars are and she’s all starry-eyed (get the joke, mom?). Movie-stars and starry-eyed, ha ha! I may have a future in comedy here yet! Ha, ha!

And she has said some very bad things about your son that I can’t repeat here because it’s not the kind of language you’re used to. Anyway, she’s sleeping on the floor for sure tonight, I’m going to teach her a lesson plus I need the rest to be ready for another big training ride here called the New Pier Ride or NPR for short.

It is a sprinter’s course, so Higgins won’t be there unless someone lends him a motorcycle or a new pair of legs. To be honest I had a tough time on all those climbs on the Donut Ride. That skinny guy Derek I told you about he is a good climber and man he can drink a lot of beer although actually I would like to see him try to go toe-to-toe with me on a couple cases of silver bullets. He will be on the NPR tomorrow and he told me about some other guys there who I will have to I’m sorry to say open up the can on.

The big dog around here according to Krankewitz is some guy named Bahati I will have to school him too with a big old helping of Whup A**. This is how we do it in Texas is what I will tell him.

I LOVE YOU, MOM!! and if you could put in $50 that would be awesome!! LOVE YOU!!

Your son Billy Blitzkrieg


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Hi, Mom — guess what the cat dragged in? (Part 7)

September 15, 2014 § 8 Comments

Hi, Mom

I didn’t get to finish telling you about the Donut Ride except that there was a huge sprint towards the end and yep, I opened up the can all right. Higgins thought he had been passed by a falling piano, that’s how quick I came around him and the other fancy-pants SoCal sprinter boys are all making a note of Billy Blitz the Hammer.

Afterwards some skinny dude named Derek and his teammate DJ (both of those guys are so old, mom, I really felt sorry for them) came up to me and said hey Porky, there’s no need to sprint after everyone has sat up, especially with the way you throw the bike around it looked wilder than a chick tossing rice at a wedding. Higgins said Porky wins all the races that end 100 meters after the finish line, that guy is so jealous of me so I just cut him to the quick with Whatever, dude.

Anyway, after that we pedaled over to a local beer company called Strand Brewing, it is supposedly the s*** here in LA, they make their own beer. I was really skeptical — brew your own beer? Really? Why not just get a case of silver bullets? — and turns out I was right. Derek and DJ bought me a glass of IPA and I was like um, can I have a silver bullet and they were like no, so I was like okay, gimme a Corona Light then some lime then and they were like uh, double no, so I was like okay, even though I hate it gimme a Miller Lite and they were like uh, no, here’s your IPA.

I asked what’s an IPA and they said it’s India Pale Ale and I was like uh, no, Mexican beer maybe but Indian beer no thanks. They were like try it and I did and it was the worst stuff I ever drank. It is so bitter mom, Californians do not know anything about beer. The guy who runs the place is named Joel and he was like, how is it and you know me, mom, I can’t lie and I told him that he wasn’t going to be putting Coors out of business any time soon.

Even though it tasted awful I had about six of them and the one thing I can say is that Strand Brewing beer, if you have six of their Indian beers you will have a hard time standing up after that. Who knew that Indians made strong beer or that Indians were white like Joel? That dude is the whitest Indian I ever saw. When I think about India all I think about is those people who drink their own p***.  Anyway, so that is why I didn’t get back to you.

Anyway, guess who showed up on my doorstep this morning? Yep, it was Cindy. She said she got “let go” at the feedlot but you and I know that she just got lonely like an old dog. I felt really sorry for her, mom, I know she isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and she eats way too much frozen pizza but she is a good-hearted soul deep down so I told her she could sleep on the floor.

She was like sleep on the floor my a** and she took the couch so I’m slumming it for a while on the floor but that’s okay because she is a good ol’ dog, that Cindy. Anyway, I was really surprised when she told me that some federal agents had come by the apartment in Amarillo looking for me. Apparently someone who looks exactly like me — weird since Amarillo is such a small town — has been hanging out at the post office and going through the trash and taking out the junk mail credit card applications and filling them out in his name and then running up a big tab.

What’s weirder is that this criminal was having the cards sent to Cindy’s address and so naturally the cops think it was me but I swear that it wasn’t. Good ol’ Cindy told them I didn’t live there anymore and had moved to Arkansas, she is a good ol’ dog. Now she is saying that she loves me but if I don’t give her $500 bucks asap she will call the federal police and tell them where I am. I’m not afraid because I have nothing to hide but if you could put $500 in my account that would be awesome, mom, I LOVE YOU.

Love you, mom!

Your Blitzing Bag of Billy


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Hi, mom — best day ever (Part 6)

September 14, 2014 § 7 Comments

Hi, Mom

I got a knock on my door late last night, it was Maurice, one of the guys I met out behind the dumpster at Bunny’s. You won’t believe what he had, he had my bike. Yep, my team bike. He said he had seen some guy riding it and him and a bunch of the other guys had knocked him down and brought it back to me.

Are you really a pro athlete he asked me and I said yeah, why and he said because my apartment was all full of empty silver bullets what, was I training for the beer Olympics? And so we sat on the couch and emptied a few more and I offered to give him one of my belts but he laughed and said no thanks. Then I told him anytime him and the boys wanted to come by and have a drink they knew where to come.

Then after Maurice left I got a call from Krankewitz he said I should start doing some of the local training rides and I said what for, it’s no fun beating up on little children and he said don’t worry there are some girls and old men you can beat up on, too and he said I’d need to have a few miles in my legs for cyclecross.

So I rode over to the starting place in Redondo Beach it’s called the Donut Ride and Krankewitz wasn’t kidding about the girls and old men. I never saw a creakier and more broke-down looking bunch outside of a retirement home but that wasn’t the worst. The worst was that Higgins was there too, but that still wasn’t the worst because Higgins was wearing a Team Ding-a-Ling jersey and shorts.

Hey Higgins I said and he said Hey Porky and I said it’s not Porky anymore pal, they call me Billy Blitz the Hammer now and he said we’ll call you Porky Blitz then and a bunch of guys he was standing around started laughing. How come you’re on Team Ding-a-Ling I asked and he said that Krankewitz figured we needed a real sprinter yeah, so why’d he hire you I asked and Higgins said why don’t you ask my rear wheel, you know, the one that always rides away from you and I said whatever, dude, and you can bet he didn’t have a comeback to that.

Anyway the ride started and to tell the truth mom I wasn’t feeling my best because of the jet lag and I haven’t gotten used to the California air yet and I was on the 404’s when I should have been on the 303’s. We went through this little plaza called Malaga Cove and some idiot hit the jets and it was strung out in a line and people were popping off the back like a lit string of firecrackers. I was just about to open the can but I was pretty far back when I got the lid off and by then this idiot in front of me, some chick, had opened a gap that I could have easily closed but instead I waited for her to close it and she couldn’t and then we were by ourselves.

I had already put the can back in my hip pocket when this chick looks at me and says pull through, fat boy and I said to her when I pull through you’ll know it sister because of the sonic boom and she said that’s not the first time I’ve been promised a sonic boom and only gotten a toy whistle and I said whatever, chick and that shut her up.

Anyway I was sitting back there for a while and then this ancient old man with a tattoo on his leg and white hair and a white beard came by, mom, I swear he was a hundred. Hop on he said so I did and we left that chick to regret her rudeness. The old dude was going pretty good and I was going to come around him and help but he seemed pretty happy there and so I just sat on his wheel. This Donut Ride course is pretty tough but not for me, mom, it was my rest day and it’s actually the off season anyway even though I will be doing cyclecross later.

The old guy his name is Tim finally got tired after about thirty minutes and we hit a big hill and so I attacked him and dropped him. Everybody was waiting at the top of the hill, it is called the Switchbacks, and Tim nipped me at the line because I let him and I felt sorry for him, he’s a hundred or older, like I said. The chick passed me too but I let her because I felt sorry for her.

Higgins was there and said look it’s Porky Blitz getting owned by Methuselah and the bag lady and everybody thought that was pretty funny but I said whatever dude and that shut him up good.

Anyway, the point is that I got my bike back and I haven’t opened the can yet lucky for them, I’m still flying under the radar and when I bust loose they will know it. Love you, mom.

Billy Blitz the Hammer


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Hi, Mom — worst day ever (Part 5)

September 13, 2014 § 2 Comments

Hi, Mom

I want to kill myself. After getting moved in I rode down to Bunny’s Liquor Store near my place to get some silver bullets. There were seven or eight guys standing outside and they also had lost their belts. So I said to them hey could you watch my bike for a minute because this bike is worth about $5k and one of the guys said sure, man.

So I went inside and got three 24’er cases of silver bullets and when I came outside my bike was gone. Hey, where’s my bike I asked them and they said I don’t know I didn’t see anything. You’re kidding me I said you were here the whole time and that bike is my livelihood. They were like hey man we didn’t see nothing and mom I almost started to cry. They were like why are you so upset and I said I’m a pro bike racer and that’s my team bike. I’m gonna lose my job now.

They were like oh man that sucks. I said didn’t you see anybody but they were like, nope. I don’t usually cuss mom but I said f*** and s*** and god**** it to h***. There goes my whole life and they were like oh, man that really sucks and hey is that Coors Light?

So I was like, hell yeah, silver bullets baby so we went around to the dumpster behind Bunny’s and started cracking them open. They are a pretty good bunch of guys and they said they would keep an eye out for my bike and if they saw the person who stole it they would take it back and give it to me. Pretty soon a bunch of other guys showed up and we emptied the third case so I went back and got three more. None of the dudes in my neighborhood have belts like I said before there is a HUGE belt shortage here in LA.

Then they were like hey, do any brothers race bicycles and I was like no, I only have a sister and she works with Pap on the hog farm. They were laughing hard at that, go figure.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do now, mom. After we killed that last case of silver bullets I got three more but now I’m completely broke. Anyway the guys in my neighborhood and I are good friends now, they invited me to play hoops with them tomorrow and told me to bring some more silver bullets. I have no idea what hoops are but if it’s a sport I will have to open the can on these guys even though they’re my friends. I may be short but I don’t lose to anyone.

PS: Can you put another $150 in my account? I thought I had some extra money but it looks like I spent it all at Bunny’s.

PPS: Love you MOM!!!

PPPS: Don’t tell Pap I got my bike stolen.

Love you,

Your son “Blitz”

Hi, Mom — settling in (Part 4)

September 11, 2014 § 6 Comments

Hi, Mom

The flight went pretty good because there was no f***** and the guy next to me didn’t want his pretzels.

I will be keeping this short because there’s a lot going on. One of my new teammates Joe Snodgrass met me at LAX, so you’re Porky Tubbs he asked and I said you must have me confused with someone else, I’m Blitzkrieg Billy. He laughed and took me to my new place but he won’t be laughing when I open up the can. He is a skinny little dude and I can tell the team is already depending on me to bring home the bacon, Snodgrass doesn’t look like he could ride more than ten miles without passing out. My new place is about a thirty minute drive from the beach. My address where you can send me care packages (love you, MOM!!) is:

Billy “Blitzkrieg” Tubbs
13385 Rosecrans Ave., #101
Compton, CA 90220

I asked Snodgrass why it’s not in LA and he said you don’t want to live in LA. LA is run down and filled with bad neighborhoods he said, in fact LA is just a bunch of smaller cities all cobbled together. Did you know that Beverly Hills and Hollywood aren’t actually LA? Neither is Compton, although it’s in LA it’s not LA. It’s kind of confusing.

There were a bunch of my neighbors standing on the corner watching me move in. I waved at them and said hi but they didn’t come over and talk or anything. I don’t know if they’re unfriendly or what, maybe in California people don’t shake your hand and want to meet newcomers. Also, it looks to me like there’s a belt shortage in this town. Those guys’ pants sag any lower they will be showing things that no one wants to see until after a few beers.

Anyway, the Team Ding-a-Ling bikes are very trick, Snodgrass handed over a road bike and a cyclecross bike. I will try them out tomorrow but for now I have to get my things situated.

PS: Tell Pap that he’s gonna be pretty tickled when I open up the can on one of these local tough guy training rides Snodgrass told me about. He told you what that means, right?

Love you, mom.

Your son,

PPS: I’m thinking about an extra nicky to go with Blitz, like “the Hammer.” How do you like Blitz the Hammer?


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Hi, Mom — just call me Chester (Part 3)

September 10, 2014 § 6 Comments

Hi, Mom

You know on Southwest’s in-flight magazine they have that guy Chester Karras? The one who looks like a snake and charges money to teach “negotiating” skills? Well this old Texas boy knows a thing or two about negotiating and Krankewitz knew he’d been in a fight when I got through with him.

Here is how it went down. He picked me up at Paul’s and said you aren’t gonna make it in SoCal if your only nutrition is beer. He was looking at all the silver bullets laying around the apartment and I said there’s a sandwich in every sixpack and he said it looks like you’re wearing about a hundred of them sandwiches around your gut and they are all made of ham. He thinks he’s funny but we went over to Hooter’s for lunch and to talk business.

They had happy hour prices on silver bullets so I had a few but Krankewitz is a beer snob. That’s not beer it’s colored p*** he said and I said there’s places in India where you drink your own p*** and he said maybe so but at least it doesn’t cost three dollars a glass. I took your advice and went straight to the point, mom. I told him look, if you want the big swingin’ who knows how to open the can it’s gonna cost you more than a handshake and a couple of silver bullets. He said what are you thinking and so I laid it out for him, $1500 a month until the road season starts, plus a place to live, a couple of bikes, kits, and the works.

I’m not seeing the results for all that he said and SoCal isn’t Potter County. Bahati and the Williams brothers and Charon Smith aren’t exactly going to burn their racing licenses when you line up and I said who are they. You would know if you’d ever been to a race outside the ArkLaTex, he said and I came back with well they would know Billy Blitzkrieg Tubbs if they ever set foot in Potter County. Yes they would know he said because they would have won all the prize money for the next ten years if they had.

Those guys don’t scare me at all I said and he said well people weren’t scared by nuclear bombs until August 1945 whatever that was supposed to mean. I told him again what I wanted and he said who have you beat and I said I came in fourth to Higgins at my last race. Higgins he said. Higgins couldn’t outsprint a fire hydrant if you gave him a hundred meter head start. That may be true I said but he beat everyone on Team Ding-a-Ling like they had been put in concrete and cured in the hot sun for a few years and he said well he beat you too and I said even a monkey falls out of the tree from time to time and the next time Higgins plans on whipping me in a bike race he will need an extra leg and a motor.

To make a long story short Higgins said he didn’t have that kind of money lying around what did I think he was the manager of the Lakers and I said I hope not because they couldn’t win a game if you lowered the hoop four feet and made them play a team of midgets. So we agreed to $400 a month. He said LA isn’t that expensive because I’ll be going everywhere by bike anyway and judging from my eating habits as long as there’s enough money for beer I won’t need any food either.

I think that is a good deal for now. When I open the can at my first cyclecross race I will ask for more money.

PS: Speaking of money I need a plane ticket could you book me on Southwest for tomorrow? Any time is okay but try to get me an A boarding pass. The last time I was in C and had to sit next to a guy who f***** the whole trip and it stank so bad I couldn’t sleep even though I f**** back at him the whole trip. They put all the people who f*** in the back I think. Thanks mom I love you!

Your son,


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Hi, Mom — stabbed right in the back (Part 2)

September 9, 2014 § 4 Comments

Hi, Mom

You are not going to believe this but when I told Cindy the great news about the Big Time all she could say was I’m not leaving Amarillo. I was so stunned I couldn’t say anything. She has been working at the feedlot for fifteen years now and she says she doesn’t care about the smell and it’s a steady paycheck which is more than you ever had, those are her words exactly. I guess we find out pretty quick who supports our dreams and who doesn’t, but it’s still a huge shock to me. I guess you were right when you said she wasn’t good enough for me and now that I think about it she has changed from the girl who used to work at Hooter’s that I met and fell in love with all those years ago.

Safe to say we are done you can stick a fork in her and I’m glad I took Pap’s advice when he said Don’t buy when you can rent, and my favorite, Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? Of course ol’ Cindy’s milk has got too sour for my taste.

Thanks for taking my side when you told Pap about my big news, he just can’t understand that in order to chase your dreams you have to make sacrifices and it’s true I’m 36 and I know by that time he already had his first hog farm but the athletic world is a bit more difficult than raising pigs although actually alot of the racers remind me of pigs. Tell Pap that next year is my breakout pro year and with Team Ding-a-Ling we are going to tear it up. He may even see me on TV if you guys still get Off The Wall Sports from the dish, I think it’s Channel 974 because this year they will broadcast the Tour de Utah and that’s our team’s big goal, to get an invite.

By the way, Cindy put all my stuff out on the curb and I’m staying with Paul Dinkins over near WT. It looks like I may need some more money so if you could put another couple hundred in my account that would be awesome. Love you, mom!

Tomorrow morning Krankewitz is coming through town on his way to California and I will get the details about Los Angeles. I’ve decided to demand some money up front since I’m basically taking a big risk on his team and would be leaving everything I’ve built here in Amarillo and Paul’s couch for LA. That’s okay with me but he needs to put up some earnest money because in pro sports real talent doesn’t come cheap. I’m thinking of a cash payment of $1500 and some kind of monthly guarantee until they make a decision on my cyclecross results. What do you think, mom?

Of course when they see me open the can they will know they are getting the deal of the century. I did some sprints with Dinkins this morning and poor guy he couldn’t come around a tree stump. My power numbers look good too, if I keep on a tear like this they will need to add another digit on the Garmin. I want to encourage Dinkins but he doesn’t have a future in this sport unless it’s as a mechanic or a bus driver, kind of like all the other losers here in Texas and Oklahoma and Arkansas. You would think they get tired of me beating them to death but they don’t.

Love you, Mom.

Your son, “Blitz”


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