"I've been here for two days now and it doesn't look like you're doing anything that the health department would give a shit about. What were the fine...s for?"She used an extended stream of Spanish profanity at the mention of the health department. "That fucking place down the street is behind it," she said."What fucking place?" Santos," she said, spitting out the word like it was some sort of disease. "Oh, never mind this shit. You wouldn't believe me anyway." I think you'd be surprised at what. This journal, more than riches and deeds, is my final legacy to those I love.That's because today is Monday, May the 16th. The year is 2011.Historically, the sixteenth of May is not noticeably significant. A young Marie Antoinette, who was fourteen at the time, happened to marry a fifteen-year-old on May 16th. His name was Louis-Auguste and he later became King Louis XVI of France. Of course, you know how that worked out for her.And it was on this date that the first Academy Awards were held in. It would be their last year at that dump. They had no idea what they wanted to do with their lives. For one thing, they both wanted to move. They were sick of all the kids that they grew up with.They had been just hanging around at the town pool and going to parties in the evening. They both were trouble when they were together. They liked danger and were always hitchhiking up on Route 18.They liked messing with the truck drivers. It was just a boring night for the two girls. They were. She turned, facing him, letting him see that her pussy was completely bare, shaved or waxed until not a hair remained. The lips of her sex were thick, the fleshy bud of her clit peeping out from between them. As he watched, she slid her hands down her stomach, one sliding between her thighs, slowly strumming her fingers over her hardened clit.He must have made some sort of noise for she turned and looked up at him, finding him in the brush. She gasped, her hands coming to cover her body as best.