We were fucked up. We were out, partying. I'd done some speed and I was feeling good. We were just in a small pub, getting our party on and planning the night ahead. I don't even know how it happened. We were in the pokies room (I don't even play pokies, that's how fucked up this whole situation was). My mate was having an argument on his phone with someone when he threw the phone to me and said "Talk to this cunt". The person on the other end of the line was agitated and quite rude. I calmly told him that he could go fuck himself. He said that he would find me, cut my balls off and then slit my throat. At this stage I should have realised that I wasn't dealing with a normal person and left it at that. But I was off my face on good meth, so I told him he had no idea who I was, where I was or where he could find me, and that him and his mother could both go fuck themselves. I don't believe in God, his son, or their Mothers, but for some reason I felt the need to go to my car 30 mins after that phone convo. As I was walking out, 6 nasty guys were kicking the fuck out of the bouncer. Turns out, they were there for me. The guy on the phone before me had already told them where we were. They had come down to kill me. They were the Adelaide chapter of a BAD OMC. I'd told their leader that him and his mum could fuck each other. I walked to my car and went home. I didn't find out who they were or why they were there till the next day.