The Burnsfield Project

The names Gregg, Gregg Burnsfield.  I guess you could call this a memoire of sorts, an acknowledgement of my life or don't call it anything at all and just sit there, shut your mouth and read.  Obviously by writing this, you know any story I tell here on in, even if death finally gets her cold hands around my scrawny little neck, I managed to survive long enough to get all this down on paper.  Everyone thinks that Hell is a fictional place but I know that to be untrue because I was already there; Hampton, Virginia.  This city is nothing more than a gathering place for old, rich, white people living out their pointless lives and passing judgment on the rest of us for trying to live our own.

My mental state wasn't always this…hostile or abrasive I guess you could call it, but being born here, having grown up here as a little kid, raised here, and knowing my death was probably gonna happen here, happy thoughts and rainbows just weren't for me.  My parents were born here and still occupy this lovely little speck on the ground town.  We have a few 7-11s, a Wal-Mart and Target, so step the fuck back; we're doing it big here.  I never noticed these little idiosyncrasies until my world came crashing down around me.  We'll get to that shortly.

Being a Police Officer, a.k.a. LEO, was always a dream of mine since first discovering the show 'Cops'.  The day after graduating high school the paperwork for my application was already fully inked up and submitted.  The Newport News Police Department (NNPD) accepted me and I've worked for the city for over 6 years.  They used to call me stick because I was tall, slender and frankly, I looked fucking sickly.  My partner also called me Buckwheat (for no particular reason), which hit a nerve every time those words came out of his fat fucking mouth.  All that changed as soon as my shrink put me on my anti-d's on my 20th birthday.

I've grown a fucking gut, like a 'can't see my dick' gut,  she's called 'one-pack'.  If I try exceptionally hard, I can tighten my abdominals so much that it makes one solid, powerful, round force field of muscle enveloped by an inch or two of fatty tissue.  You can't fuck with that unless you were to punch it moderately hard or run from me, I'll never catch you if it turns into a footrace.  Some people enjoy running, this guy though, not so much.  Basically, my body is housing a thirty-five pound fetus and my vagina hasn't matured enough to strain it out.  I don't have the attention span for running or exercise, A.D.H.D. gets me every god damned time.

Alright, alright, enough about how fucking sexy I am.  Let's get to the beginning and figure out why I feel this is a notable story.  I don't waste time, never have really but this is something you'll read and never be able to get out of your mind.  Every time you blink, that split second of darkness will be like a slide show of horror and pain of which I call my life.

Just a word of warning, this literary work is not fiction and will include numerous government secrets.  I may be lacking the permission to do so but when do we ever really need permission to do anything.  It's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.  Some things the President himself didn't know about; actually, most of it the President didn't know about.  Our operation was seen as an independent organization unless we were called upon by someone for our…talents, you could say.

Enjoy!