I have an ongoing (for not much longer) bet with my local bookie on who DownToBuck will make highlights for first: Juancho Hernangomez or Willy Hernangomez. I put 5000 smackers on Willy on 2-to-3 odds. I could have angled for better odds, but I don’t want to bite the hand that feeds. That’s wise wisdom from a seasoned gambler right there.
My dumbass bookie doesn’t even know that the guy he’s working with is actually DownToBuck himself. I keep a low profile in real life when I need to. Obviously, I can win any DTB-related bet I choose with this guy. And just as obviously, I don’t win all of them. Just last week I made some dorky little parlay thingie that I put a bunch of money on and got, like, 2 of the 8 videos that day wrong. I pretended to be so pissed as he counted his money with this smug-ass grin on his face. His toughing looking lackeys with their damn semiautomatics were pretty much laughing right in my face, but I didn’t care. Loser doesn’t even realize how much money he’s gonna lose in the long run with me. I’m DownToBuck, bitch. Don’t you realize?
Gotta cut this description short, guys. Someone’s banging on my door real loud. Totally pounding on it, shouting my name. I bet it’s the hot Latina chick from the apartment above mine. I’ve told her I’ve sworn off women forever, but she keeps comin’ a-knockin’. Wish me luck!