Name: Bree

I don't know her last name, everyone at the shop, including me, address her as "Ma'am.”
Her most frequently heard quote "Stay at least 6 feet away from my client at all times, this is your only warning."

When I began this bio page, I gave Bree the same standard bio form to fill out as I did everyone in the shop. Bree wadded hers up, threw it back at me and said "I get paid to keep your dumb ass alive, not write essays." Since I did not feel the need to have my ass kicked at that particular moment, I will relate to you how I meet Bree, and how she came to my body guard.

In 2006, I placed several ads in Solider of Fortune magazine, as well as news paper ads in the bigger cities. I received about 2 dozen apps, one of which was Bree's. Her app was only partly filled out, and she listed her previous employment as " Problem Solver" for the C.I.A.

I narrowed my list down to a final four, one of which was a former Navy SEAL, one was a competing UFC fighter, one had a 12 degree black belt in a martial art that I cannot pronounce.

The plan was simple: A single elimination bare handed combat tournament. No weapons…but no other rules. Strikes which targeted the knees, eyes, throat, and groin were encouraged. Everyone seemed to agree this was fair…except Bree. She pulled me aside and whispered "Your little tournament is fair, and kinda cute, but I have other things to do today, so how about if I knock all three of these dicks in the dirt, and be on my way?”

I related her proposal to the other candidates present, only to be met with loud, rude laughter, and one fart.

What happened in the next one minute and 45 seconds will haunt my nightmares forever. The scene is far too gruesome to describe in detail, but Bree was standing in the middle of the three men, all flat on their backs. The UFC guy had elbow twisted at a very odd angle, the Navy Seal was crying and demanding I phone his mother…and the 12th degree black belt guy looked dead. Lucky for me, it later turned out he was only in a coma…can't remember much after the E.M.T.'s took them away.

Bree, none the worse for wear, snatched a pen from my shirt pocket, then wrote a dollar figure ON my shirt. She said as she departed, "That is what I get paid. Every week. Cash."

She has been my body guard ever since.

Bree@Jailbaitcyclesandrods.com.