Okay you guys, I got this. We buy a bunch of mattresses. Yeah, mattresses. We texturize and paint them, then sell them to 2nd-rate New Jersey contractors. For literally hundreds of dollars. What could go wrong?
Instead of defying those baseball bat-wielding teens with a mailbox filled with cement, just try and make it way less fun for them.
From the submitter:
Gas station next to my hotel. It's fully operational - I went and got gas there myself.
Note to self, never get my suspension checked here.
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