Aight so I’m a 17 year old Juggalo, have been since I was 10. I have a little hatchetman I wear all the time, no matter what. One night, my parents were drunk as hell and I got scared because sometimes bad shit goes down when they’re both drunk. Then it got violent, and I went into my basement and smoked myself silly, completely stoned. I guess I left my house, barefoot in 20 degree winter weather, and walked 10 blocks. I saw an apartment with a hatchetman sprayed onto the window and “mcl” on the mailbox. I went up and knocked and this dude answers the door. He’s maybe 2 years older than me, holding a glass pipe, and he sees my hatchetman chain and was like, “What’s up, man, it’s fuckin’ late, your eyes are fucking bloodshot,” and whatever, and I told him that shit was crazy at my house and I didn’t have to say anything else, his girlfriend was watching Tv, and he sat me down on this couch, and I stayed right there for at least 6 or 7 hours. Next day, when I was sane, we talked for maybe, half the day (he had work) about shit, related a lot, both worked within a 2 mile radius of each other, so we started toking up on lunch break together, listening to ABK and whatever, and I pretty much moved in with this dude. Since he let me in that night, we’ve been friends and I’m proud to be a juggalo because of the family. Looking forward to my first Gathering this August!
Whoop whoop to another great story of perseverance! Whoop Whoop, homie! (contact us to submit your story)