Some real estate that I believe Ray has for sale. Poor Ray When I was a kid in Florida, we were so poor we didn't have shoes. Every winter when it would snow and the road to school would get iced over and slick we would have to wrap barbwire around our bare feet to keep from sliding in the ice. The skeeters would get iced up on their wings and when they came crashing down in the swamps they would knock out the gators and big catfish so you could just walk out and pick them up. I remember one time I had a flat on my bike, picked up a knocked out rattler and wrapped him around the rim until I got my tire fixed. Once I latched his teeth through his rattles he couldn't get off of that rim. I heard one of them big skeeters got behind a KC135 tanker and drained all the JP4, made that skeeter falling down drunk and he crashed in Havana. Scared Castro so bad he swallowed his cigar. They got that skeeter stuffed and mounted in the Havana Center for Fine Arts right beside the gold plated bones left over from Fidel and Raoul's NYC fried chicken dinner. © Ray Holcomb
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