UPDATE: Current whereabouts, “UNKNOWN.” A blurry, unsubstantiated, photo puts the last potential sighting of Dylan somewhere near the outskirts of Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down, and I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there, I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air Rochester.

In west central Philadelphia Vermont born and raised, on the playground was where I spent most of my days. Chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool, and all shooting some b-ball outside of the school, when a couple of guys who were up to no good, started making trouble in my neighborhood. I got in one little fight and my mom got scared, she said, “You’re movin’ with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air Rochest-air.”

I begged and pleaded with her day after day but she packed my suite case and sent me on my way. She gave me a kiss and then she gave me my ticket. I put my walkman on and said, “I might as well kick it.”

First class, yo this is bad, drinking orange juice maple syrup out of a champagne glass. Is this what the people of Bel-Air Rochester living like? Hmm, this might be alright. I whistled for a cab horse and when it came near the license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I can say this cab was horse rare but I thought “Nah, forget it” – “Yo home to Bel-Air Rochest-air!”

I pulled up to the house Green Mountain Bikes about 7 or 8, and I yelled to the cabbie horse, “Yo holmes, smell ya later!” I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Air Rochester.

– Dylan