Raoulie Fuentes:  

I've been doin alot of new work lately. I know one day soon, I'm gonna make it big! Ive just recently registed with deviant art.com. Bad -ass site! very recommemed. Check out the rest of my pics on this site. Post a comemt; Ain't scared? Lates............. It might come to some as a suprise but as most of u know, I did take juustt.. a little-bit, lonnger... growing up than most. I tried,, I just could'nt do it. Blame it on my dad for runing me over, I don't know, after all, what did you expect from a bluffrat? Thearapy to me, would have to be thearapy to myself. like somekind of self-help CD. It'll either make you, or break you. Yup..life was that simple. I was a bluffrat. Lucky me,,,, Born & breed to take even the most crap from a bullsh---er, absorb it, & then shoot it right back......of course, with the exception of weedin out the facts, all bullsh--t aside, be real or get the f--k out of my face. With two generations ahead , only news my family ever made, was amongst themselves. A family of alchoholics, one could only imagine the tantilizing visialization of the crazy stories I could share . From Donald Lanzener, to Jugde Jon Cox; The Ramos family was a common name throughout Hazard county. That's what the Bluff reminds me of, in my own way. This is my story. Chronicles of a Bluffrat. The bluff, to me, was every kids playground, "The, (as some would say) Playground of playgrounds." Surrouonded by water meant pretty much one thing to us bluffians, if you were'nt local, we'd know it......Something even the most common bluffrat was equippt with. With only one way in & one way out....This was our safe zone. Never did we go into town. I never heard it but I myself thought it was forbidden. Besides, what buisness did or will we ever have in town? That's were the clowns hung out, right? the Beach is what it was al-bout. Growing up back then was classic. I remember making trail after trail using a machette carving my way through the brush. I borrowed it from my grampa's tool-shed along with everything else. That, of course was just one of my many weapons I'd accumilate throughout my adverture's & run-ins with the Brown Bull. My pimary weapon of choice hung comfortly below my right hand, Strapped loosely around my waist , was an exact replica of 357 revolver. It, of course, a fake, but it was also The Crossman, Co2 pellet gun. She carried a 1.77 cal. pellet. Along with the wrist-rocket that dangled around my left forearm; The bamboo staff strapped firmly to my back, my Benjamin, 22cal. rifle; A chinise star would be the lasstt.. thing you'd think I'd chunk at you? Poor snakes...we'd shoot anything & everything that moved. Exploring every square inch o...Expand for more