Well, well, well. Tyler Smith comes clean about the arrest for carrying the piece. He says he got text messages threatening his family after a robbery. To which yours truly, Bloodpunch Barta, has got one thing to say: YUP.
G! M! X! WHERE BROOKLYN AT!*
You're on thin ice, Tito. You weren't supposed to tell anybody about the text. That's enough to get Nile here talking. You remember Nile. He's still got a nasty fucking attitude, and he's still got a clip of Iron Men ready to fly if he hears someone snitching.
And let's keep it real here. I didn't threaten to kill Tyler and his son. I threatened to hire Jake Christensen to throw his son through Tyler. That's where he's aiming, anyway. And every time he cocks back with a baby in his hands, I get results. Smith's the one questioning Six-Shooter's accuracy here. I trust him just fine.
But Tyler kept my name out of his mouth so... we're all right. He's the one that got kicked off the team and had to go over to eastern Europe just to find someone who would let him play basketball again. I'm the one who's still running Iowa City and snorting powdered tiger dick off a different freshman's asscrack every day. It's not really an aphrodisiac. Just a message to tigers who's at the top of the food chain here. Gary Motherfucking Barta, that's who. And not Tyler Smith.
So here's the deal. If you leave Iowa, be prepared to pay the consequences. And you better not have a family. We were going to feed Jeff Peterson's parents to wolverines, but he's in Arkansas now, and that's probably enough. If we see him smiling in a picture, though, shit goes down. Bloodpunch doesn't play games.
*About 45 minutes west on I-80.