Ill never forget the first time I met Joseph. I was in prisoner transport, my hands were bound together, my face was bloody, and I didnt even remember knocking over that liquor store, but as you all know, security tapes dont lie. Now I had recognized him from my crack dealers house, but we had never actually had a conversation before that fateful night. When my eyes were swollen from the violent beatings i recieved that night to the point that I couldnt see, good old Joseph was there with a razor that he had stuck up his ass to cut them open. Ever since then weve been the best of friends. Now him and I have been through all sorts of things together, prison, rehab, prison again, but nothing will ever top the time we broke into the old folks home to steal morphine and jewelry. As we were running from the police and various senior citizens, Joseph spotted a fantastic tree house to hide in. Little did we know, that tree house would be our home for the next three months. Some of my best memories were in that tree house, right up until that meth lab we had set up exploded and took my left arm and the lives of 4 outstanding Puerto Ricans whose names I cant remember. At least I think it was our meth lab that blew up. At any rate, when Barnaby first told me he was getting married, I was a little skeptical. After all, I had seen him go through several marriages always walking away with everything his spouse held dear. But when I see the love in his eyes for this girl whose name I cant remember, I know that theres a distinct possibility that this isnt just another scam of his. Wait where am I?