It's so pretty, too bad it has to die

Brad's got cockfighting relations in Riverbank, a small town out by Modesto. A town that which puts the Trash in White Trash. Me, I'm trash, but Brad's fambly makes me look cultured as a Kennedy. I got's more cars on blocks then they got's, but hell, that's just kid's stuff compared to deer poaching and dogfighting. Them's is Peckerwoods with a capital Pecker.

Brad's 16-year-old cousin Alex is a cockfighter (and yeah, he's got the fuzzy teen mustache you assumed he had). Bill, Brad and I paid him $40 for a cock that he'd train. Alex told us it was the toughest cock he'd had in over 30 cockfights.

We named it Philo Beddo after Clint Eastwood's character's name in the monkey movies Every Which Way But Loose and Any Which Way You Can. This was a mistake. The ghost of Sandra Locke, Clint's ex-wife and The Patron Saint of Skank, doomed us from the start.

Alex offered up five cockfights and a pit bull fight. We passed on the dog fight. That's just wrong. He had set-up a fight for Philo couple months earlier, but Philo tunneled out of his cage to kill the cock in the next cage over. In doing so, he cracked his beak and wasn't fightable until his beak healed.

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