⛪ From Altar Boy to Bad Seed
It doesn’t seem real when I look back. I was an altar boy in sixth grade — clean shirt, quiet shoes, doing my part at Mass. And by eighth grade? I was stealing everything that wasn’t bolted down.
It only got worse from there. But it started early.
I was what you’d call a bad seed. Always in trouble. Always pushing the line. I got the whole family kicked out of Catholic school — not just me, the whole crew. That’s a legacy, right?
Now we had to go to the public school we used to pass on our way home from the Catholic one. And I didn’t make it easy. I’d cuss out teachers without realizing I might end up in their class before it was all said and done.
I was loud. I was reckless. And I was just getting started.
🎭 The Double Life Begins
By the time I finished sixth grade, I was doing whatever I pleased.
I was stealing from the corner stores just up the block. Running with people I probably shouldn’t have been with — though maybe they shouldn’t have been with me. I was already a bad kid in the making.
On the streets, I acted like a little hood. At home, I was the perfect boy at dinner — clean hands, yes ma’am, pass the potatoes. Two lives. One table.
I sure wasn’t the Catholic boy I was supposed to be.
By now, sports were behind me. I wasn’t chasing balls — I was chasing trouble. I was becoming a specialist in mischief. And it was only going to get worse from here.
👊 Trouble at Home — The Fear Behind the Fun
Perfect at home? Not even close.
I was always in trouble — staying out late, getting bad grades, mouthing off. Small stuff, mostly. But if I’d ever gotten caught stealing? I’d still be rubbing the bruises on my ass.
My dad was mean. Scary. You’d rather get caught by the police than by him. No joke.
He was tough. Old-school. The kind of man who didn’t ask twice. And when he laid down the law, you felt it.
So I played the part. Tried to look innocent at dinner. But I was living a double life — hood on the streets, headache at home, altar boy long gone.
🧃 Five-Finger Discounts and Empty Pockets
When I was about 10 or 11, none of the stores had cameras. You could walk in, steal something, walk out, and come back five minutes later to do it again.
My parents didn’t have money to hand out. If you wanted something, you had two choices: go without or take it.
So I took it.
If the store had what I needed — candy, soda, whatever — I’d just grab it. That was the reality. Not because I was trying to be a criminal, but because that’s how you got by when you didn’t have a dime in your pocket and no one was watching.
It wasn’t about thrill. It was about survival. And maybe a little bit of rebellion.
💸 Money, Mayhem, and the Making of Me
Money, money, money.
Now the real life is going to start.
This isn’t a straight-line story. I’m going to jump back and forth — from candy bars to bar ownership, from altar boy to bookmaker, from scared kid to comeback king. Because that’s how it all went down.
Some parts will make you laugh. Some will make you wince. And some? You’ll swear I made them up. But I didn’t.
This is how it happened. The good, the bad, and the unbelievable.
Let’s go.
♉ Taurus the Bull — My True Story
I’m a Taurus — the bull. Stubborn, strong, and always charging forward.
This is the true story of my life, as best I can remember it. No filters. No fluff. Just the raw truth — the wins, the losses, the lessons, and the luck.
From stealing candy bars in Florissant to owning a bar in St. Louis. From altar boy to bookmaker. From scared kid to comeback king.
I’ve lived fast, learned hard, and somehow made it through. This isn’t just a story — it’s a survival manual for anyone who’s ever bet big, lost bigger, and still found a way to stand tall.
Let’s begin.
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