In the quiet town of Bakersfield, nestled amidst the golden hills and sprawling farmlands of California's Central Valley, flowed the Kern River—a serene and picturesque waterway by day, but a notorious and treacherous killer by night.

As dusk settled over the town, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement of the industrial district, whispers spread among the locals. The Kern River had claimed yet another victim. Its murky depths, swollen with winter runoff, were not just a hazard to the careless; they were a grim reminder of the dangers lurking in the heart of the city.

Among those who roamed the riverside were a motley crew of tweakers and junkies, drawn to the promise of quick cash from stealing catalytic converters off unsuspecting cars parked near the water's edge. They prowled in the darkness like shadows, their gaunt figures illuminated by the occasional flicker of a cigarette.

One such night, as the moon hung low in the sky, a trio of would-be thieves huddled near a battered pickup truck, its undercarriage gleaming with precious metals. Billy, the wiry leader with sunken eyes and a perpetual twitch, crouched low, his hands working deftly with a wrench. His accomplices, Joey and Lola, kept watch, their senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through their veins.

But as Billy wrestled with the stubborn bolts, a rustling in the nearby bushes caught their attention. Paranoia prickled the back of Billy's neck as he glanced nervously at Joey and Lola. Could it be the cops? Or worse, rival scavengers staking their claim?

Suddenly, emerging from the shadows, came a figure unlike any they had expected—a woman with curves that defied the darkness, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the city lights. Lola's eyes widened in recognition. It was Marisol, a local legend among the riverside scavengers, known for her sharp wit and even sharper knife skills.

"Got a visitor, Billy," Lola whispered, nudging Billy with a sly grin.

Billy, caught off guard, fumbled with his wrench. "What do you want, Marisol?"

Marisol sauntered closer, her presence commanding respect despite the sultry sway of her hips. "Just passing through," she purred, her voice tinged with amusement. "Thought I'd see what's happening by the river tonight."

Billy eyed her suspiciously, but Joey nudged him with a low chuckle. "Marisol's alright, man. She's got the goods."

Marisol smirked knowingly, her gaze flickering to the half-loosened converter. "Looks like you could use a hand," she teased, stepping forward with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

Billy hesitated, weighing the risks. But in the end, greed outweighed caution. "Fine," he muttered, stepping back to let Marisol work her magic.

With practiced ease, Marisol slid in beside the truck, her fingers dancing over the bolts like a magician's sleight of hand. Billy watched, begrudgingly impressed, as she made quick work of what had stumped him for minutes.

As the last bolt clattered to the ground, the trio exchanged wary glances. They knew better than to trust each other completely, but tonight, their mutual desire for profit forged a tenuous alliance. With the converter secured, they slipped away into the night, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and the echoing splash of the Kern River as their legacy.

And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the Kern River, where danger and opportunity intertwined like the currents that carved its path, Billy, Joey, Lola, and Marisol became unlikely allies in the pursuit of survival—a testament to the unpredictable nature of life on the edge of darkness.

Killer Kern River

A day in the life of Roller Doper, just Chilling at the trap with a kitty on my lap.

Chillin At the Trap with Kitty on my Lap

Bakersfield Ca Born and raised. Melancholy madness disguised behind comedic sadness.

New tracks tagged #soul trash