Chapters

Recovered Memories

2005-11-25T20:42:00.000-08:00

Sitting on my bedroom floor thinking about my teenage years, now long lost to me. more so than just in the past, now the memories themselves were fading. the colors and urges of my experiences were being leaced away by the new practicality of my "more adult mind". All the drama and fire I felt makes no sense to me now. I can imagine why i felt that way then, blaming a lot to hormones and lack of experience. I was figting with my longtime girlfriend bac then. We weren't fighting over me going to a strip club, we were'nt fighting over how cheap and empty that made her feel. We were fighting over the insensitive things I had said to her while we were fighting about the strip club. We had been fighting for hours, I had made the mistake of trying to apologise in the beginning and had spoiled her fight, so she had started dredging up the actual words I had used in our arguments. I was getting fed up, the angriest I had ever been with her that I could recall at the time. I stormed from my bedroom in my friends basement, to the living room. then the kitchen, back to the bedroom. After 2 hours I ended up locked in the bathroom with her screaming like a deranged harpie outside the door. I was almost praying for someone to come home, but it was pretty early in the afternoon. I decided to take a shower, to show her I was ignoring her, and to drown out her screams and curses. I was in the shower when she finally popped the lock on the bathroom door. Shrieking triumphantly she stormed the bathroom I saw her hands swing around as she illustrated her point, without thinking I lunged out of the bathtub and swung an arm around her waist. I pulled her into the shower directly under the faucet. If this had been a movie she would have immedietley burst into laughter, alls well and all that. Unfortunately it wasn't a movie and it only made things worse. I don't recall how this ended..

This Guy #7 continued...

2005-01-12T05:23:00.000-08:00

For the next day or two one of us stayed in the doorway constantly watching the hallway. I for one was on the edge of throwing the door open and shooting almost every time I saw someone walk up that small hallway. Old ladies, the bellhop, even the cleaning service sparked a mini panic attack every time I looked out the peephole on the door. When I could actually sleep I had dreams of people seeing my eye in the peephole and shooting me through the door.
It wasn't much easier on Stet and Niklas either, we were all short with each other, Stet and I actually repeated our wrestling match from before. Niklas stopped us before we got too angry though, he was a good mediator. Stet was all adrenaline and testosterone, too geared up waiting for a threat to handle it calmly. He was probably just over-trained by the army, but they built killing machines welland he was no exception. I was worse, I constantly had nightmares whenever I slept, sometimes flashes of gore and violence would appear out of nowhere when I was awake too, but I didn't tell Niklas or Stet. I didn't think they qualified as hallucinations, since I knew they were just made up by the guilt and fear in my head.
It got to be too much though, I couldn't take the constant threat to my life, even if Stet and Niklas seemed to be doing ok. Stet was good at this, when it was his turn to watch the door he would make a little nest of blankets behind the door. After arranging it comfortably he would set both of our pistols close at hand, check to see if they were loaded then he set a small mirror under the door along the jamb. His view of the hallway probably wasn't as wide as if he used the fisheye peep, but after looking myself I had to agree no one could have walked up that hallway without being seen. Then he would sit there dead silent for six hours or so, just watching. I constantly checked to make sure he was awake, but his reply was always the same "Fuck off, stop distracting me.
Niklas just played with his computer, I was half convinced he spent the whole time looking at porn, but every time I was behind him all I could see was a screen full of numbers, sometimes in lines, sometimes in columns. If he caught me looking over his shoulder he would meet my gaze, close the top of his laptop and say "What?"
When I asked what he was doing, it was always a vague answer that I didn't understand. Suspicion of him was blooming in my mind, and I hated myself for it. I had got into this mess to save him, and now I was constantly weighing him in my mind as a liability. I felt constantly like I was betraying him and Stet both as my suspicions flared and roiled inside my mind. I watched them both constantly, watching over their shoulders as they watched the door, sometime creeping up to the bathroom door while they were showering or using the john to make sure they weren't making any phone calls. It got to be too much though, Stet finally noticed the stress I was under and called me on it.
"Dude, youre freaking out. It's not working, soon you're going to accuse one of us of being against you and we're all going to fall apart or kill each other." The calm way he sat there saying that to my face sent a chill up my spine. It was so close to what I had been feeling it was eerie.
"Shit." I took a long drag on my cigarette. "You're right. I'm so freaked out right now I can't sleep any more."
He just nodded which showed he was more in step with my current feelings than Niklas, who looked like he'd been shot. He was all pale and looking back and forth between the two of us.
"We gotta do something man, I can't keep waiting here." I needed an idea from one of them but they both didn't say anything.
Niklas eventually broke the silence, "We're just following you. You're more " He paused searching for the right word. "ruthless, than either of us." He winced a little as he said it, a slight apology.
"You just do what has to be done." Interrupted Stet. "You saw the hit man first and took him before it got dangerous. You set out looking for Sal and his asshole friends to pre-empt their strike, you even took down Wriggly when he turned on you." He looked down at the carpet, but his eyes looked angry rather than embarrassed.
"So?" I asked, shortly, right then I felt like punching Stet in the face.
"So?" Stet stood up and paced the room stopped and stared out the siding glass door of the porch. "So far you haven't asked anyone, just gone ahead and did what needed to be done." He turned and locked eyes with me. I could see now he was definitely angry, I just didn't get why.
"So?" I stood up as I said it, reacting to his anger like a threat, my whole body was tensed up and in a second I was going to charge him. Niklas was silent still, when I glared over at him, he met my gaze steadily, obviously he and Stet had been doing some talking.
"Ever since Wriggly, you've been sitting here freaking out." Niklas took over. "You're not sleeping, you smoke like 3 packs of cigarettes a day, you drank every fucking bottle in the mini bar." He waved his arms in the air and stood up too.
"What is this, a fucking intervention!" I yelled, clenching my fists and leaning towards him slightly.
"You just sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. You're waiting for Sal to burst through the door and kill you, or you kill him." he yelled back. "Or waiting to get paranoid enough to attack one of us, or shoot a cleaning lady." I winced as he said this, I thought maybe they hadn't noticed that.
Stet interrupted again "You want to get caught." it wasn't a question.
"What! Fuck that."
"No, seriously listen." Niklas forced himself to talk calmly, and turned back towards me. His eyes roamed the carpet as he tried to find the words.
"You're tired, you're scared. You had to kill a good friend of yours, at least someone you thought was a good friend, and it sapped your will." Stet's eyes met mine again , but this time they looked more sad than angry. Niklas continued "You're scared of what you're doing, and I can't say you're wrong to feel that way, but you're not in a normal situation. Right and wrong haven't applied yet, so far it's just been us or them. You've chosen to live up to now, but you're starting to waver. You're weakening and that means they're going to kill you. Kill us. You'll probably curse and fight at the end, but it'll be too late, you'll let them get too close, you'll do the work for them with your paranoia and fear, and when they shoot you you'll feel relieved that it's over."
"Listen, you brought us this far." Stet continued. "You had a plan, you had goals. Now, now you have nothing. You're just waiting for something to happen. You're not thinking anymore. That means you're going to lose, and that means we're going to lose too." His voice was soft, he was trying to reason with me and I knew it, but I was so angry I just wasn't getting what he was saying.
"If you don't get back in control soon, we're" he motioned to Niklas and himself "going to have to leave. We can't just sit here waiting to get killed, or for you to give up and shoot yourself."
I stared at him for a moment, then the pieces finally came together in my head. I knew what he was saying, and it was scary as hell but it made sense. I sat back down on the bed slowly, my legs felt like jelly and there was a tightness in my chest that was stopping my breath. What was I waiting for? I threw the question deep into my own head, but no answer came. I thought of the past few days, tried to make some sense of what I had been doing, but everything seemed disconnected. My eyes burned and I tried to rub away a tear that formed, but Stet grabbed my arms, shook me gently.
"Fucking let it go." He wasn't exactly yelling but his voice was raised. "You shot your friend. You killed him, even after he helped you. You tried to beat him to death with you're bare hands then you shot him because you didn't want him to betray you again!"
Niklas reached out and took my arm as I tried to push Stet away.
"You killed someone you knew this time. Someone you cared about, had a history with." I was crying now, I couldn'tt even summon the strength to fight back against them as my sobs broke out and wracked my body.
"It had to be done." Niklas added, his own voice husky, breaking slightly until he cleared his throat. "He was a fucking degenerate asshole that turned on you. It's us or them. So far you've chosen us, chosen life. Now if you give up, well it's all been for nothing, they, whoever they are win."
He squeezed my arm and Stet let go and sat on the other bed.
"We need you man. I need you. I'm over my head here, I could help you do whatever you needed, but I feel like a child looking around. Everything you've done so far has freaked me out and scared the piss out of me, but then it makes sense, only I never would have thought of it. Not on my own, I'm not good at being a criminal." He looked down, a little embarrassed maybe at his candidness.
Stet took over, "I don't know what the plan is. I could come up with one on my own, but so far everything I've thought of would have us in jail, or in an old western shoot out. I hate to say it but you've killed three people, by yourself and not left a single clue for the cops, or a connection to us. Fuck, you're good at this." He smiled a rough smile, slapped me on the arm. "You just have to get over this guilt thing. Wriggly tried to get you killed man, you and Niklas and me even. He didn't care about you, only the money and the drugs. You gotta get over it, or we're not going to survive."
I let my tears fall for a moment or two before I grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and blew my nose. I brushed the tears off with my sleeve and met Stet's gaze then Niklas' evenly in turn.
"Fuck, alright. You're right. I gotta get over it, and I will. I don't know what to do right now though. We've been riding this thing on pure luck so far, and now we need to plan, and I got nothing."
Niklas said. "For now we should get out of here, maybe get a room under a different name."
"Yeah, that's a good idea." I agreed. Then another idea hit me. "No wait, let's get out of hotels for a while. There's too much exposure, too many people around."
They both looked at me questioningly so I continued, "We're just sitting here like old cons in a Bogart movie, we need a house we can work out of, control the security of."
They exchanged glances then Stet gave Niklas a look, "You have any idea where we'll get something like that?"
"I know just the place." I realized I was grinning at them, I actually felt a swell of hope in my chest and while both of them sat there looking puzzled I just couldn't help breaking out laughing.
"I know just the place."

This Guy #7

2004-12-15T12:22:00.000-08:00

I still had not cleaned up. Streaks of blood covered my hands and face. The smell of vomit and metal rode on waves of gunpowder. The cigarettes I smoked only wreathed the scent, recalled it to my mind again and again. I had gone to take a shower, and stopped when I saw myself in the mirror, covered with dried gore of red purple and black. A grin at myself, thinking of any who saw me on the drive back, the mile or two I had walked between the ditched car and the one I stole. My own grin scared me, I saw the angel of death, my death, looking back at me. Waiting for me to get to the other side where I would become him. I shuddered and turned away, fell into a chair and was smoking a cigarette thinking of a fight Wriggly and I had had in high school.
We were great friends but even so testosterone could change things in a second. We were just hanging out and then next minute amidst shouting curses we were rolling on the floor wrestling. He was too fast for me back then, had locked my arm and head in a painful wrestlers hold and was rubbing my face on the carpet. I was bigger and stood up, lifting his whole body on the weight of his arm lock. He tried to force more pressure on but I was torqued to the max, tears in my eyes as I grunted through the pain. I grabbed his belt and lifted him to my shoulder level. I tried to hit him against the wall but it was agony to jar him against anything.
Finally I could feel his arms shaking with the strain of holding me. I felt a lump in my neck pulsing and was pretty sure I'd have a stiff neck for a couple weeks. I finally turned around enough to bang his head against a door jamb. He tucked his head down so every time he hit the door the high part of his forehead knocked into mine. After two or three good hits, my head was ringing a little, he had managed to reposition, choking me off. I started snorting then giggling madly even though I was losing my air.
He lessened his grip, and I let him down, we let go warily but I was still smiling, trying to pretend my head wasn't hurting, wanting to rub it.
"You're lucky you had the door there." He rubbed his head. He had taken quite an impact.
"If not I would have had to start hitting you."
"I wondered why you weren't."
"I didn't want to hurt you." I shrugged.
"Shit, If I'd known you were a girl, I'd have bitch slapped you." he retorted and spun on his heel bolting up the steps and out of the house. I almost had him while he was turning, but he was so fast I wasn't even out of the house yet and he was turning around in the street laughing at me.
The memory was painful. His face kept morphing into the crushed face lying in the back of the car. I sat there for a long time before I could drag myself up and into the shower. I wore my clothes right in with me and scrubbed them down as much as I could, undressing and scrubbing down the next layer, until I stood there naked with my skin turning bright pink as I washed and rewashed.
I was dressed and feeling better when Stet and Niklas came back to the room.
"Where's the car? I didn't see it outside?" asked Niklas. I paused trying to remember, but my mind was feeling pretty foggy.
Stet stepped closer, "What happened to your hand?" his voice sounded really far away, but I looked down to see what he was talking about, what had happened.
Suddenly Stet had a hold of my shoulders and he was shaking me, "Whats the matter?"
Niklas' voice "Is he high?"
"Could be. Dude, Alex!" he was shaking me pretty hard. I looked up from my hands and watched his hands clap together in front of my eyes.
"Stop fucking shaking me!" I yelled but it was slow coming out, he didn't look like he understood me.
"Hey! Hey!" Stet clapped his hands again then reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I couldn’t breath and was seeing spots. My head was pounding in time with his shaking.
I screamed in his face. ”Stop fucking shaking me!" Grabbing Stet by his shirt I lifted and shoved him away from me. He twisted and my hands seemed to wrap up in his shirt, then the ceiling spun past my eyes and I hit the ground flat. All the air whooshed from my lungs.
Stet leaned over me, one knee on my shoulder, my other hand was caught up on something and wouldn't move. The ground felt like it was vibrating, and my vision started to bounce around. I heard words in strange voices "drugs", "shock", "hospital".
I twisted to the side as my stomach heaved and I spewed yellow green bile across the side of the bed, and onto the floor, just missing stet.
I heaved until I went dry, and then continued to choke and heave until Stet and Niklas wrestled me to my feet and into the bathroom. I leaned over the toilet for a while letting the spasms in my stomach and body resolve. When everything seemed clear again, I rinsed out my mouth then took a cigarette from Stet.
We moved onto the balcony, to avoid the smell. I dangled my legs through the bars and rested my head on the cool metal. I still felt shaky, and tremors passed through me a little less strong each time until I felt like I could talk again.
"Thanks."
"What happened?" asked Niklas "Are you hurt or something? There's blood all over the bathtub?"
My stomach lurched a little but I pulled it back under control. Stet went back to take a look, then the shower ran for a few minutes before he came back.
"It's not that bad we can clean it up." said Stet. He handed me a coke he must have grabbed from the mini bar. "The puke though" he mock winced, slapped me gently on the shoulder "you're on your own there pal."
I grunted, drank some soda before talking. "Yeah. No problem, sorry about that."
"I've never been able to throw you that easy before. It was fun."
"Shit, whose blood is that?" Niklas asked sounding more resigned than upset.
"Wriggly’s" after a few seconds of dead silence, I looked up to find Niklas and Stet staring at each other.
"What?" I snapped.
"It's just, well I told Stet you probably went to see Wriggly, because he told Stet about us."
"Huh, you figured that?"
"It wasn't hard, just didn't figure you would kill him." added Stet.
"I didn't want to. It's pretty fucked up." I told them everything that had happened, sparing no detail. I kept looking up at the two of them comparing how pale they got against each other.
Niklas was the first to speak. "So what now? We change hotels?"
"No, if I thought the cops knew we probably would, but we should let Sal come to us." answered Stet.
I nodded agreement. "He's got a lot to answer for."
I paused then stood up facing my friends. "I'm sorry about Wriggly." my voice wanted to catch but I didn't let it. "I wasn't going to kill him, but it just got so fucked up. Then I almost beat him to death anyway. I just fucking lost it." I wiped my hands down my face, shook my head sharply to keep control.
“Some of that was the drug,” Stet noted “he deserved it anyway.”
"I'm sorry you had to kill him, Alex" said Niklas. "He was fucked up for years though. The only reason we trusted him was because we had no choice. Don't beat yourself up." he shrugged. "It's more fun to watch Stet here do that." He smiled as I flipped him off.
"Yeah, what he said, let's just not get all sappy and shit." Stet said taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "Remember you've some friends coming to adjust your vital signs."
"No shit."

This Guy #6

2004-12-07T07:59:00.000-08:00

I was pretty upset Wriggly had told someone where we were. It was Stet, so there was no real damage done, but now I had to worry about who else he might have told, who they talked to and so on. I didn't tell Stet or Niklas and went to go have a talk with wriggly. I went to his apartment in Philly, one of his couriers, Benny, was just coming out as I came up. He looked pissed, and was muttering under his breath, when he saw me though he froze for a second then smiled.
He opened the door for me and waved me in, "Just go in man, he's not busy." I looked around suspiciously trying to see anything out of norm, but didn't.
I was starting to sweat, but tried to stay calm, I went in watching a reflection of Benny in the door glass half expecting him to jump towards me. Instead he turned an sat on the bottom step of the little stoop. I closed the door behind me and clicked the bolt closed, if he heard he didn't give a sign, It probably wouldn't stop him if he came in but at least I'd hear him.
I rounded the hallway corner slowly scanning the length of the front room, Wriggly was sitting, facing me, but he was bent over a stack of cash, and didn't seem to know I was there. I stepped out into the doorway a little more, my boot clunked on the floor and he jerked up in surprise. When he saw it was me he jumped to his feet.
"Fuck" he yelled and lunged low, making it past me with no trouble. Before I'd even made it a step back into the hallway, the fact that he was running from me just sinking in, I heard him throw the bolt on the door. I came out in the hallway just in time to see Benny's fist shoot through the gap in the open door and catch wriggly square in the face. Wriggly flopped over backwards, dazed, blood starting to pour from one nostril. His hands waved vaguely in the air for part of a second, then he went limp and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Benny pushed on the door but now Wriggly was blocking the way. I grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him back into the living room. Benny followed and I heard the bolt shut again.
I was feeling a little bewildered, but dragged wriggly over to the sofa where he had originally been sitting and left him lying on the floor in front of it. Benny was out in the hallway looking back and forth between me and Wriggly.
"What the fuck Benny?" he met my gaze squarely, and then his eyes flickered down to my hand and back his face whitening a little. I actually had to look down to see that I had my gun out and was squeezing the hell out of it, my hand all white and trembling. I didn't remember pulling it out, but damned if I was going to put it away now.
Benny' father came from some what he said was one of the larger crime families in North jersey, New York. He never named him or them, but he would tell stories about some of the shit that went on at their family gatherings. His mother was Vietnamese, having met his father during the war, coming back to the states with him to be married. His father had gone back into the family business when he got back from Vietnam, got sent to prison and ended up dead in a prison fight. Benny and his mother pretty much got tossed out by the family as soon as his father was dead, maybe that's why his father didn't make it. He didn't really know, didn't care either, he took his mother's maiden name came to work the streets eventually working for wriggly.
He was kind of short, but his Italian blood, or his insane workouts left him bulging with muscle, he was the biggest oriental person I'd ever seen short of sumo wrestlers. He could move too, he was fast, had taken some kind of martial arts since he was a boy. Right now though I was far enough away from him he couldn't get to me without me shooting. I wasn't planning on it, but if anyone had jumped or moved suddenly I was keyed up enough I would have started blasting.
"He sold you out man." Benny looked like he was going to spit on him, but instead just waved at Wriggly. "See that cash?" he pointed at the stacks wriggly had been counting. "A guy named Sal Rogelio came by this morning. I never heard of him, but I seen him before, and not with nice people."
"What’s he look like?" I asked. Benny gave a great description of that guy I was looking for. "Damn" I let out a slow breath.
"That's all you're going to say? Damn?" Benny asked.
"I'm just thinking man." and I was, only it was more like trying to stick a paddle in the whirlpool of info in my brain.
"What's he tell him?" I asked waving the pistol at wriggly.
"I don't know. The guy came in and said 'I’m Sal Rogelio' like we should have known him. He asked about Niklas, only he knew his real name. He asked about you too, had a good description of you right down to your tattoos. I kept expecting Wriggly to tell him, we didn’t know anything and to fuck off, but instead he sends me to wait outside!" Benny was fuming. "Sal had these two big grease ball fucks with him he sent out after me, they waited on the step with me until Sal came out, then they all left. I went inside and Wriggly sitting there counting out this brown paper bag full of cash.
"I asked him about Sal, but he tried to be all big, told me to keep my mouth shut. Get the fuck out." He shrugged "that's when I came out and saw you coming. I figured you found out somehow?"
"No, I mean, I knew he told one of my friends where I'd been. I was just coming to tell him to knock it off. Shit."
"It was fucked up for him to do that." Benny leaned against the wall. "As soon as anyone heard, no one would do shit with us ever again. He's a fucking rat, he turned on you so fast, it was like he called the guy and told him to come over."
I could hardly believe it, one of my old friends actually stabbing me in the back had never occurred to me, now that it had happened I was trembling in rage, or fear, I couldn't tell.
"So what do you want?"
"I want this set-up." Benny looked around the small room. "I know where he gets his shit and I know all the runners. So you take him out of here" he nodded again at Wriggly, "and I take over in his place."
"What you think I'm going to kill him." I asked anger flaring up.
"Shit, you need to kill him, if you don't though I don't care, because me or one of the other runners will. We make too much money off this, we don't need him, and if he disappears every one will get the message that he got his for ratting someone out. We'll still be good here. No problem."
He had it worked out, that's for sure. Only I couldn't kill Wriggly, we'd shared some good times together. I couldn't leave him here either, I just didn't want him killed.
"I'll take him with me." I said squaring myself towards Benny so he got the threat. He nodded.
"Just make sure he never comes back here." he met my eyes. "Don't trust him. He's a fucking junky; he'd sell you for bottle cap full of Clorox, man."
Wriggly was starting to move around again, I had to get us out of here. I had a feeling Benny liked me enough, but he was all business and If I didn't get moving he'd make it easier on me, just not the way I wanted him to.
"Can you set up a heroin shot?" I asked Benny as I bent down and unlaced both of Wriggly's shoes. He said yes, so I had him fix me up two syringes, I gave Wriggly one in the forearm, just as he was coming awake. I watched the panic fade from his face as the drug hit his system, he gave me a sleepy looking grin, patted me on the arm. I tied Wriggly’s shoes together leaving 2-3 inches of slack, childish maybe, but he if he tried to run away it might be my only chance at catching him, he was fast.
Benny had gathered up the cash on the table and put it back in a brown paper bag. He handed it to me as I was leading Wriggly out the door. He gripped my arm for a second “Remember. That cash bought you from this man." I met his eyes then nodded.
"You won't see him again." I promised, hoping I could convince Wriggly of that.
"You're cool here. Come see me if you need something."
I threw Wriggly into the backseat, he was a little more lucid, but definitely high, Benny must have fixed one hell of a shot. I turned back, shook Benny's hand then left.
I drove back into Jersey and headed east, Wriggly mumbling and laughing in little snorts in the backseat. After driving about an hour I pulled off and went into a diner and had some coffee. Things were beginning to fall together again; I was just realizing the enormity of what Wriggly's betrayal could cause. Did he give our new names to Sal? If he did he could just call hotels until he found us. He must have figured we were still around, Wriggly would have told him we were. Would have told him I was looking for him.
I watched the car, but wriggly wasn't moving around a lot, I could see him in there, but he was beginning to worry me. I didn't know a lot about junk, but I figured even high he should move around more than he did. I paid for my coffee and went out, shaking him awake, slapping him in the face a few times. That when I saw the second needle in his hand. He stabbed towards my face, I jerked my hands up reflexively and felt the needle burn into the flesh between my thumb and first finger. It felt hot as he started to press down the plunger, and I jerked my hand way almost screaming as it ripped the syringe from his hands.
I punched him in the face with my left hand knocking him back into the car. My second hit went into his guts, making him retch onto the car floor. I didn't care I leapt into the car on top of him bashing him again and again with my left hand and my forehead. I felt his nose crush, felt a tooth crack, and finally managed to draw back. My left hand was covered in his blood, and some vomit, I didn't see any cuts on it, and had a flash of panic as I thought about what kind of sickness he might have from all his years shooting up.
I probably wasn't going to live through this though, if I didn't get killed by that guy Sal or one of his cronies, I was probably going to prison for the rest of my life. I looked at my other hand which I could feel throbbing, but numbly. The needle had gone almost all the way through my hand. I could see the dark tip right under the skin. A large bruise was forming around it though, getting darker as I watched. I jerked the needle out, noting he had pushed about a third of it into my hand. I was hoping some of it had been lost before it had stabbed me, but I could feel a tickly feeling building up in my chest, like when I'd gotten laughing gas at the dentist.
I didn't know how much it would take to get me high, but suddenly I was smiling and my hand felt great. I looked at it and flexed it several times watching the bruise swell. I had to get out of here though, I climbed back into the driver’s seat and took off, heading south until I was lost in the woods and didn't see any more houses. I pulled over leaned out the door and puked, not really minding that I was throwing up, but it did clear my head a little. I had no idea where I was, but I knew I had a problem. Wriggly was moaning in the back seat, when I looked back at him his face looked all crushed in. Both his eyes seemed to be swelled shut, just looking at him made me feel ill. He had sold me out, sold out Niklas, after all the work we did to hide. After killing that muscle guy and the drug dealer, he had gone and ruined that by selling us out to Sal Rogelio. He had to have known who Sal was when we were there. That's why he wanted us to leave. So he could call Sal, make some money. I could feel my chest heaving, my hands were trembling and I wanted to hit him again, but he was already hurting pretty bad.
I finally couldn't take it any more I got out opened the back door and dragged him out dropping him roughly to the concrete. I kicked him ribs, but pulled the hit a little, I just didn't have the heart to once I saw him lying there. He was pretty dazed, and wouldn't answer me when I tried to get him to acknowledge me. I dragged him off the road a little into the woods and leaned him against a tree facing away from the car. He came too finally, staring at me blankly for a few minutes. I crouched down in front of him.
"You fucked me up." his voice rasped out of his swollen mouth, streaks of blood were dried on his face.
"Yeah."
"Sorry man, being and addict, it’s a bitch." Only one eye seemed to be tracking me, the other gradually was drifting off to the side. I felt like crying, I had blinded him, I really lost it.
"Just for the money?" I asked swallowing down a lump in my throat.
His head nodded a little before he lifted it back up to answer me. "Yeah."
"Fuck" I said softly barely a whisper.
"Give me the rest of that shot?" he asked lifting a weak limp arm. "Just one more shot, then leave me here. You'll never see me again." A tear formed in his eye, rolled down his cheek riding a ridge of dried blood.
"Okay." I hung my head, tears of my own welling up. I walked back to the car and picked up the needle from the floor where I'd thrown it.
I crouched down in front of him, placed the needle in his hand, rocked back on my heels. He bent his head and worked the needle into his limp arm. I pulled my pistol out and pointed it at his head, tears blurred my vision, I knew my hand was shaking, but I wouldn't miss him from this close. I almost didn't shoot, but then his head swung up, his one eye met mine steadily and I swear his swollen lips pulled up in a tight smile.
I pulled the trigger.

This Guy #5

2004-12-01T17:35:00.000-08:00

We had no problems getting a hotel room. The dealer kept fading in and out of conscience and I was really beginning to worry about him dying. We had him in the room propped up on the bed when he finally came awake. He looked kind of gray, with sweat beaded up on his forehead, but his body went cold and hot in turns.
"Thought you was cops." his voice was thick and slurred. His head dropped chin resting on his chest.
"What! What!" I slapped him not too gently across the face, shaking him.
He wasn’t responding, I shook him harder and foggy white drool leaked from the corner of his mouth. I put my ear to his chest; his pulse was racing then seemed to pause, like a sputtering engine. It caught again then stopped, this time it didn't come back. I started pumping his chest, but couldn’t bring myself to try rescue breathing. I had to give up, he was dead. I pushed his limp head over and had a glimpse of something shiny inside his mouth. I used a pen from the nightstand and pried open his teeth, there was a plastic bag stuck in his cheek all chewed up. The dead guy was staring at me and for a few minutes I stared back, his eyes looked different in death, they were blank, waiting for something to fill them, but nothing ever would. I pushed his head back over so he was looking at the curtains.
Niklas was standing at the end of the bed, white as a ghost.
"What the fuck dude?" he sounded panicked. "I didn’t kill him with the car. Did I?" He sank into a chair.
"No man, don't worry." My heart was racing and I was angry as hell, but I tried to calm him down. "Fucker had some drugs or something and when he ran or after we had him on the ground he fucking swallowed it. Shit!" I yelled slamming my fist down on the nightstand.
Niklas slumped down in the chair, his lips were moving silently as he stared blankly at the dead guy on the bed. I was kneeling on the floor next to the bed rubbing the side of my hand gently. I still had long thin bruises on both hands from the phone cord, hitting the table had hurt.
"Well shit." I looked from the corpse to Niklas. "What do we do now?"
"You're asking me? It's your plan." He held his hands up.
"Alright, we got his cell and beeper. We get to a computer and look up as many of these numbers as we can. If nothing’s listed we can at least get locations on anything but the cell phone numbers." We got our stuff together wiped down what we could of the room.
"I wonder how the news will play this." Niklas snorted and nodded to the guy on the bed.
“Don’t worry dude, I’m sure they won’t think he got run over to death.” We both laughed a little. I was a little surprised we both were so calm about another killing. Then again this guy had suicided, we were only partially responsible.
Niklas had a couple pre-paid credit cards set up under Niklas and Alexander, something I never would have thought of. They were incredibly easy to get, in fact he had got these at a Radio Shack, and after setting up he was able to use them over the phone or online without even having the card yet!
We left our car in a parking garage at the airport and he called down to one of the other car rental places and set up a new one. I was surprised how good he was at this, I probably would have been out trying to hotwire an old Camaro or something. The new car wasn't as nice, we actually moved down a few notches and were driving a tan sedan that smelled like smoked salmon and feet.
At the hotel we spent a few hours combing through the numbers on the cell and beeper, over half must have been cell phones and weren't much use to us, but we got out a map and circled the blocks the other numbers came from. Our biggest problem now was that the most numbers came from the same block we had picked the guy up in. We had to bring someone else in to help us, someone we could trust. More important someone who wouldn't hate us for dragging them into this mess we'd made.
After talking it out it wasn't hard for us to agree on who to ask, Stet. I hadn't seen him for a couple years. Niklas said he wasn't doing much, just hopping from job to job pretty irresponsible. That raised my eyebrows a little, Niklas the embezzler calling Stet irresponsible, I let it go though, they had some personal shit going on, and I wasn't going to get involved.
Stet and I had our own problems, mainly stemming from the fact I'm a real prick sometimes. After high school I had moved into a spare room in his house, we got along really good until I started messing up everything else I was doing. Things went downhill for me, and I took it out on him, he never said a word, and actually seemed sad to see me go when I finally moved out. I talked to him a few times after that but I never apologized to him, even after I'd recognized how much of a dick I'd been.
It surprised him that I called, but he agreed to meet me out at a diner near his place. He started to ask me a question, probably about where Niklas was, but stopped himself not wanting to talk about it on the phone. I asked Niklas to let me go alone
"Why?"
"I have to be sure we're cool before I drag him into anything." I answered, throwing my coat on. I was back in my normal street clothes, and felt like a man again.
"Okay." he nodded, I started out the door. "Alex." he called after me.
I stopped and turned towards him. "Don't kill anyone."
He gave a tight lipped smile, enough that I thought he was trying to make a joke.
"Depends how good the coffee is." I quipped back. His smile looked more genuine now, grinning back as I flipped him off and headed out.
Judging from the torn up sugar packets Stet must have been at the diner a good hour or so. He looked at me blankly a second or two before recognition hit and he got up to meet me.
"Damn, you got fat."
"Because I eat runts like you for breakfast." We both grinned and shared a man hug, right hands clasped, quick pound to the back with a fist.
He slid back into his seat as I took off my coat and threw it onto the bench ahead of me. He lit a cigarette while the waitress poured me a coffee, I must have been eyeing his cigarette hungrily, and he slid the pack over the table to me. I considered for as long as it took my hand to reach them, pulled one out. "No thanks, I quit a couple years ago."
He slid the lighter over to me, one eyebrow raised as I lit and slowly drew in a deep lungful. Toasted tobacco and menthol cool swirled up my nose tickling loose memories of many other cigarettes I'd shared with him and Niklas, some in this very diner.
"Surprised you're not coughing."
"I was made to defile myself." A second drag actually made me dizzy for a second. "It's been a long time Stet."
He shrugged, "I haven't really done anything."
"Ha, me neither." Our conversation was light, just two old friends talking. We filled in the few years’ worth of gaps back and forth without any great detail until the waitress had finally started ignoring us, realizing we were only there for coffee.
"Do you like your job?" I asked, surprising him a little.
"It's a job. You have a better offer?" he flashed a little smile, he thought he knew something.
"So what do you know so far?"
"I figure you came back to help Niklas" He stressed the name with a wink “out of some trouble. You hid out in Philly for a while, decided to go after whatever trouble had been chasing you." He looked to me for confirmation.
"Close" I answered. He smiled a big Cheshire grin at me, and then I connected it. "You talked to Wriggly?"
He nodded. "Niklas' roommate called me, he hadn't been there for over a week and the cops came looking for him.” I stiffened drew back a little involuntarily, I couldn't help myself and I looked around the room suspiciously.
"Damn, did they say what for?"
"No, but there was a story in the paper about the place he worked getting robbed of a couple million. With him missing it didn't take much to figure out."
I sat stunned for a few minutes, "A couple million? He only took about half a mil. What the hell?" I could feel the little wheels in my head clicking as my mind raced.
"Shit!" I exploded slapping the table. The waitress started over, but I waved her off trying to force an apologetic smile. Then lowering my voice to barely a mumble, "That was why they sent This Guy to kill him. He was just a front for their real inside guy who stole the big money. Fuck!"
"What? What guy?" Stet asked.
I'd missed it completely, so had Niklas, he was just a fall guy for some prick, probably higher up in the company than him. That meant they were probably still hunting for him, or if they knew about me, us.
They needed him dead and messy so they could close the books on the whole thing, leaving the guy inside free and clear. I didn't really understand why he'd want to keep working there after scoring a couple million, but maybe he was setting up for another hit.
I explained to Stet about the hit man, then the muscle guy watching his eyes get wide. I wasn't specific, just left it at Had To. He nodded agreement when I told him about Niklas being set up, it made sense. I filled in the rest including the drug dealer, and the neighborhood we were now shut out of.
We smoked another cigarette, I sat quiet letting Stet think about what he'd heard. He stared out the window rolling a spoon around in his hand. Finally he turned back, a mischievous little boy grin on his face.
"Fuck it I'm in. Guns, mobsters, drug dealers?" he chuckled, "Damn glad you came back to town son."

This Guy #4

2004-11-19T16:34:00.000-08:00

The rooms at the Marriott were really nice after the last places we'd stayed. I did my best to use all the hot water they had, but eventually the heat made me dizzy and I was forced to admit defeat. I threw open the windows letting in a blast of chill air. Sitting on the end of the bed facing the window, my heart pounded, I reveled in the sensations not letting any thoughts intrude.
Niklas let himself in from the sitting room with an armful of clothing. He tossed a few items onto the bed I was sitting on.
"I didn't know your size, so I just got the biggest they had." He grinned mocking me.
"What the fuck is this?" I held up the clothes and turned to him. He had actually bought a suit for me. It was some dark shade of grey, there was an ivory colored shirt that might have been silk.
Niklas quirked an eyebrow at me, "It's a suit, Alex" he paused slightly at my new name. We had agreed to only using the new names, so we wouldn't slip up when it was important.
"No shit?" sarcasm dripping, "Didn't I say something about jeans, t-shirts, maybe a jacket?" I tossed the clothes onto the bed.
"It won't work." he shook his head, "If we're going to find him, we'll have to check bars and clubs like where he found me. You can't get into them wearing jeans, looking like some redneck biker." He had given this some thought; grudgingly I pulled on the shirt and pants. It actually fit rather well, looked good too, who knew Niklas was such a fashion guru. I teased him a little but I wasn't that unhappy with how I looked.
I did have to draw the line at the shoes he picked though. They were very fashionable shoes I'm sure, but with the soles they had I was pretty sure if i had any trouble the first thing I'd do is slip, fall, and bust my head open. Niklas assured me that after i scuffed up the soles a little bit, the leather would give me good enough traction. I must have looked longingly at my combat boots, Niklas shook his head "No way man, It would look ridiculous."
I had to bow to his knowledge in this area, for me fashion had always been easy. How scary did I want to look? If I needed to dress up I put a button-up denim shirt on and tucked it in, maybe polished my boots. I felt almost naked the clothes were so light and loose. I was like a real gangster when I tucked the pistol into my waistband, as far to left hip as I could so it would hide behind my coat. I practiced getting it out a few times and decided that I was going to avoid any quick draw situations. Otherwise I was going to shoot myself, or rip my pants off.
"Got your passport?" I asked him. He patted his coat for a second the nodded.
"So where are we going?" Niklas asked, I guess if he was supply and logistics, I must be operations.
"We're going back to where those guys grabbed me." He looked surprised at first then nodded.
"Then what?"
"That drug dealer called somebody after I talked to him. I want to find out who he called, who else he knows."
We were outside now and I stopped I had no idea what we were driving now. We had brought the beamer up, but decided to ditch it at a nightclub downtown. We took a cab to the hotel.
"Over here." Niklas used a remote to chirp the alarm on a black Lincoln Towncar with really dark tinted windows and brought chrome hubcaps.
"Nice, We'll blend right in." I can't help it I'm just sarcastic..
We drove around for two days before I saw the guy we were looking for. He saw us too, and flipped us off while he walked his corner. He must have figured us for feds or cops. He didn't recognize me I knew he couldn't see us through the side windows.
We watched him for a while then I had Niklas pull up to him.
"If he runs I want you to nail the gas and run his ass down." I instructed, he looked nervous his hands throttling the wheel, then his jaw clenched and he nodded.
We got up next to the guy and I opened up the door, gun in hand but held low I stepped out. He saw the gun right away, maybe he recognized me, and in either case he spun on his heel and took about two steps before Niklas nailed the gas. The car lurched forward tires squealing, and thudded into the runner. Niklas didn't let off the gas though the guy flew forward a foot or two landing on his hands then the car rammed him in the ass plowing him face first into the concrete of the sidewalk. The car finally stopped I ran up to them.
Niklas stepped out of the driver’s side door with the 38 in his hand and was looking over the hood of the car trying to see where the guy was. The dealer was screaming and when I got there my stomach lurched. The dealer's leg right above the knee was under the tire, trapped. His foot was twisted in a crazy direction, ankle probably broken. He was thrashing around trying to pull himself out and screaming curses pretty incoherently. I stepped up and kicked him in the side catching him beneath the ribs. The wind whooshed out of him and he gasped trying to suck it back in. My whole body trembled with adrenaline, my legs felt shaky but when he hollered again I kicked him again in the same spot.
"Ra.. I mean Niklas!" I yelled, "Dude you gotta back the car off him or I can't get him up!"
Niklas actually grinned sheepishly and jumped back in the car jerking it into gear and lurching back a couple yards. I grabbed the dealer by his jacket, trying to pull it up to tangle his arms so he wouldn't fight. He wasn't moving though, I guess the car rolling back over his ankle had made him faint. People were starting to watch from up and down the street, but so far no one had said anything or looked like they were going to interfere.
Niklas held the back door open and I rolled the limp body into the back. I was in the back with him, Niklas jumped in and we took off.
I stripped the guy down to his underwear looking for a gun, but he wasn't armed. I pulled off all his jewelry took his cell phone and pager and looked for any bleeding. He was unconscious but seemed okay, other than his ankle that was already swollen to about the size of a grapefruit, all purple and angry looking. I tied his hands in front of him with his shoelaces, then took my own shoelaces and tied his bound arms to a slipknot around his neck. I was pretty sure he couldn't run, and short of strangling himself he couldn't do much with his hands.
I realized I was breathing pretty hard, my heart felt like bursting out of my ribcage. I rubbed my hands on my legs to stop the trembling from the adrenaline.
"Where the fuck are we going?" Niklas yelled from the front.
"Shit. I don't know." I tried to think of a place we'd be secluded. "We got to go somewhere there are no people."
"Ok, ok- I got it we'll go towards the shore, take one of the old fire roads off the highway into the pines?" He looked at me in the mirror.
"No way man!" I shook my head, "Too many chances. What if we got stuck in the sand or a fucking ranger came by?"
"Shit!" Niklas was a driving a little too fast, hands clenched on the steering wheel.
"Slow down man. Go back towards Trenton, there's that little shit-hole motel. We can drive the car right up to one of the rooms in back."
"You sure?" Niklas looked at me in the mirror.
"Yeah we'll look like a couple of gay foreigners. We'll play the porn real loud so no one will hear this guy."

This Guy #3

2004-11-16T16:04:00.000-08:00

I didn't really feel anything for the muscle guy I killed either. I was pretty wrung out and tired by the time I got back, and eventually between the drunken sobs and hysterical giggles I dropped off to sleep. My Friend took the bottle and my gun, and eventually he must have gone to sleep in the other bed. When I woke up it was light out but still pretty early. I didn't have a hangover and My Friend had hidden my gun, probably worried that I was going to go completely mental. Then again I had a fair recollection of how I'd been gibbering the night before, not something to inspire confidence. If it had been anyone but him I would have been embarrassed. Being reduced to tears by exhaustion, adrenaline overload, and near death experiences may be a healthy reaction, but I never liked to cry, not for any reason.
After a shower and some coffee, My Friend woke up and got dressed we went up the street for some breakfast. He glanced my way a couple times, looking away real fast when I noticed, finally I said,
"Dude, I'm fine. Seriously I was just fucking wiped. You know?"
He agreed out loud but doubt hung in his eyes, and the way his face didn't relax. I told him about my trip, when I got to my kidnapping he swore, "Damn! You fucking idiot! What the hell were you thinking?" I shrugged and continued; I glossed over the strangling a little, but told him enough to get the idea. He'd read it in the paper soon enough, suddenly I started, a memory of the feel of his pulse beating through that phone wire came out of nowhere. My hands started shaking, and I shook them and clenched them trying to ignore it.
I figured I was still tired, and probably starving. The late night boozing probably hadn’t helped. I attacked breakfast like I was rabid; eating a full plate of eggs, pancakes, and hash browns, then had two pieces of cherry pie with ice cream.
"That must be why all the killers in the Godfather were so fat." My Friend quipped. I jerked my head up and locked his eyes, surprised at his comment. It was funny though and I started laughing almost right away. Now that I was done eating all that food was sitting real heavy in my gut. It was like a big greasy bowling ball and after a few seconds of quiet belching I made a run for the bathroom and threw it all up.
I got back to the table the waitress a little old lady in red plaid came up
"You're not bowlemic, are you honey?" she asked, with a slow southern accent putting a hand on my arm. I'm not usually comfortable with strangers touching me like that, but she seemed nice so I didn’t jerk away.
"No, I just had too much to drink last night, my eyes got bigger than my stomach I guess." I forced a rueful smile, rubbed at my stomach in a pantomime of some cartoon character, or Wally Cleaver.
"Well just sit down there I'll bring you a cup of tea." My friend was laughing silently into his coffee cup. I gave him a glare but had to go back to smiling when our waitress showed up with a plate of crackers in little cellophane packets and a steaming cup of tea.
"Now here you go, just take it slow, you'll be alright." She patted my arm and swept off to another table.
"Now honey!" My Friend mimicked quietly. The tea was good though and I left a hundred with the check on the table when we left. My Friend kept teasing me for a while until I punched him in the arm, then he got worse. We were in pretty high spirits, considering, and decided to go up to Philly to try and contact some people I knew.
It had been a while, I had been out of state so long the first few haunts we stopped by hadn’t even heard of the people I was looking for. The street drug crowd is like that though, more than a few months in one spot meant you were a plant from the police, luring in suckers. I finally got a hold of an old friend we called Wriggly, never knew his real name. He pretended he was called that because he chewed gum like a fiend, even when so high he couldn't walk, but we called him that because he was so thin and small. Cops had a hard time arresting him, they just couldn’t keep their grip on him.
One night a few years before after some pretty serious drinking, I had started brawling with some bearded ape named Jeremiah who tried to pretend he was tougher than me. He was tough enough to take a hit though, and we were standing in the mouth of a one block street slugging away at each other. We must have both been pretty drunk, we were giving each other turns, and I deliberately was avoiding punching him in the nose. After a little bit a pair of cops ran up and pulled us apart. I don't think we resisted too much, my arms were tired, and the last few punches I'd thrown had missed and skimmed off his face cutting him a couple times, and tearing quite a bit of skin off my knuckles.
Wriggly got all hyper or something because he charged the cop holding me. He had the cop around the throat and was kneeing him in the back screaming about pigs and LA and a bunch of crazy shit. I don't think he was even high that night, but maybe he was having a flashback. The other cop left Jeremiah against the wall and tried to pull Wriggly off his partner. Wriggly bashed him in the face with the back of his head and leapt to the new challenger throwing punches and curses, spitting and screaming in turns. Both cops leapt onto him and tried to wrestle him to the ground, it looked like they had him too. Then his arms reached out over his head and he just pulled himself forward twisting a little and he pulled himself right out of their hands. He was up and running up the street screaming laughter and both cops started chasing him. Me and Jeremiah shared a look then he shrugged and we both walked off in opposite directions.
They never did catch Wriggly and we avoided that section of town after that. All wriggly would say was that watching us fight had "got his blood up"; I guess he felt left out. Jeremiah and I ran into each other from time to time with no problems, but one night he must have started with the wrong guy. From what I heard he hit some guy once, and that guy's friends pulled pistols and shot him 6 times. The words "Fair Fight" seem to be losing their meaning in the world.
Wriggly put us up in his apartment, he hadn't changed much in the couple years I was gone, and he didn't seem to realize I had left. He was thinner and twitchier, he told me later he had stopped a bad heroine addiction by switching to crystal, and now he was trying to beat his meth addiction using coke.
Wriggly had a fortune tucked away in different banks from some childhood trauma, surprising for an addict to be able to hold onto anything, but it was so tightly scheduled even when he was out of his mind sick he couldn't squeeze any extra out of the accounts. Then eventually he'd get the next check and sometimes he'd blow it right away and do it all over again. Sometimes though he'd resist, and spend months living like a normal person, collecting CD's and chasing girls. He was in a good way now though, the drugs were working for him now, and he had a sideline going. A few guys who'd take gear from him and sell it somewhere else, he made a pretty good profit.
It made My Friend nervous as hell to stay there. He had more reason than ever to fear the cops right now, plus he never liked drugs to begin with. I was being nice to him and declining what Wriggly offered me, figuring I had enough problems without laying around stoned waiting for them to show up at the door. I did talk to a few of the guys that came by though. I needed new ids for both me and my friend. I needed ones that could stand up to traffic stop scrutiny. It seemed pretty impossible, I ran down a couple of rumors, but each guy I met had really shady paper, and one I'm sure was a cop. I got lucky, I was so paranoid they got nothing from our conversation that they could take me for.
It was a matter of time though, I figured if I hit one more undercover cop, they'd pull me in and try to scare something out of me. I got more careful, paid the meth runners some extra cash to look out for anything like that, and in one case I had the guy go in and buy some for me. It was bad, amateur work though, I burned it and put out the word that artist was crap. I wasn't having any luck and was getting pissed. Wriggly swapped our two pistols for two different ones, only one of ours had been used, but they were from the same shop, something I never thought of, but Wriggly did. Our new guns were a retired cop's Smith & Wesson, and a 38 special that was so filed down you couldn't even see the name on it. They were automatic prison time if they were found, but we couldn't go without guns and couldn't very well apply for a concealed carry permit.
The NJ press was all over the strangling, and shooting, reporting the start of a brutal mafia war. In Philly it never made the papers at all. There were a couple of vague descriptions of me, but they could fit any over 200lb white guy. Mostly they were looking at who ordered it, figuring me for some out of town assassin. If I wasn't so scared most of the time I probably would have laughed.
Wriggly was great about us staying, but word started to spread that he had hired some muscle and was getting big. We were starting to build him a reputation he didn't want so we had to get out of there. I suppose we could have gotten a room in some sleazy hotel for cash and no questions, but police raided them sometimes. Finally we met a guy who could get some German passports. He had friends over there that we sent our passport photos to, they had them put on their passports and then sent them over by FedEx all stamped and ready to go. They cost 30 grand, but when we got them they were real, or at least good enough to fool us so it worked out. We had a little less than 90 days before the visa expired, but for now we were almost legit. My Friend became Niklas Farber, I became Alexander Seiler. We got a pair of rooms in the Marriott and started planning our next move. I was determined this time we'd take our time and find a way to get That Guy off us for good.

This Guy #2

2004-11-04T15:57:00.000-08:00

We spent a few days out of state, shacked up in a small motel eating takeout and drinking. The news was reporting the body as a gangland assassination, which pretty much cleared us; we had no connection to anyone or anything. Except for That Guy, he was out there somewhere, waiting for My Friend to poke his head out. I was a little surprised at my lack of feeling about killing This Guy. It didn't really matter to me at all, I did what I had to do, I guessed if I was more religious I might have prayed for his soul or something.
I had made up my mind to find That Guy. I was pissed that he tried to force My Friend to do this thing, mad that it made me a criminal protecting myself, my friends. I was pissed at My Friend too, for being a sucker, a mark. He was just bored though, and bored accountants have way too many ways to find excitement if they go looking. I made My Friend tell me how he ran into That Guy, what started this whole thing.
After he got done with school it had become habit for him to go to a little bar down the street after work and have a few drinks, watch the news, flirt with the waitresses. Nothing serious, no heavy drinking, no drugs he was an average late twenties office drone. My Friend met That Guy one night he was in a suit and looked familiar, so thinking he might work for the same company he invited him to sit have a few drinks. There was a story on the news about some Mafioso from North Jersey who was going to trial for money laundering. My Friend made a comment about how he would have done it different.
That's all it took. A few more drinks and That Guy had him describing how he'd do it. He even gave him some pointers, a few ideas to make it go smoother. They even wrote up the numbers on a napkin figured they could make over 100 grand totally untraceable. The beauty of That Guy’s part was that My Friend needed him to pull it off. It made them instant pals. Compatriot rebels out there fighting the system brought up all those rebellious feelings he had stored inside from high school. He saw That Guy every night he went to the bar after that. He was smooth though, never brought up their plan again, never talked about money; he became My Friend’s new best friend, listening to him talk, commiserating when My Friend complained about money or girls. He kept the drinks flowing, My Friend never had to open his wallet around there again.
A week or so later My Friend was feeling his stones a little and went out and got both his ears pierced with thick heavy rings. He pulled the old leather jacket from the closet started wearing it to work. He was drinking more and more each night, his resentment against the world growing. An old story but effective for all that. Then one late night That Guy pulls out the napkin with the numbers on it and gives it to him. Made My Friend promise to stay sober for a week and think about it, leaves him there. My Friend did, and after going over the numbers a few times, and making a few dry runs at work that weren't noticed, he went ahead and did it.
He took 112 thousand and opened an account in Central America. His plan of course to split it with That Guy, they both have a nice mid- year paycheck. That Guy had his own plans. When My Friend contacted him he sent over a few guys who took the bank codes and info leaving him bruised and bleeding and scared to turn around. He got stuck with nothing and for a few weeks lived in absolute dread the IRS or the FBI was going to break down his door.
Then That Guy paid him a visit, he brought My Friend a check for 12 grand, a “consultation fee”. All neat and clean, safe to deposit. It was such a joke, My Friend didn't throw the check in his face or even hit the guy like I might have. It was smart of him, the first smart thing he did. He told the guy never again, went back to work, tried keeping his head down. That Guy wasn't buying though and gave My Friend a new set of figures, calculated out to a cool million. He refused, but that guy kept asking, kept sending guys by. My Friend thought about the police, thought about the feds, and finally when That Guy gave him a deadline "Or Else" he thought of me.
We decided against trying to return the half mil he'd taken, it was time to relocate. Possibly they already knew about the missing funds, and with My Friend MIA from his job they'd tie it to him pretty fast. I got all the info I could on That Guy and went back up to NJ to try and see what I could about him. I left my friend at the hotel with the murder weapon, told him to move to a mid-rate hotel somewhere closer to the shore, get a tan, play the relaxed vacationer so no one would notice him.
I took the revolver with me, it hadn't fired a shot, and if I got pulled over they couldn't connect me with the other shooting. Hopefully no one else got killed with it before I bought it. I went to the bar where they met, spent a night or two looking for someone similar then started asking the bartenders some questions. They knew My Friend pretty well, he's always been extra friendly to bartenders and waitresses. No one knew That Guy personally they all saw him, knew him by sight. I got the impression almost everyone didn't like him; they had seen him lead my friend from happy bar-goer into angry drunk. They figured he was a drug dealer or something. His suits were a little too shiny to be a proper businessman.
I was stuck in North Jersey with no leads, no contacts nothing. It was kind of hopeless. I didn't know what I had planned on doing once I got up there. I guess too many movies made me think that bartenders always had the answers. Then I did something really stupid. It seemed brilliant at the time, but it was stupid. I looked up This Guy in the paper, then the phone book, and then I went to the apartment building where he had lived. It was a real slum, lots of criminal types hanging around the whole block.
The first guy I talked to tried to sell me some pot, but was happy to send me on to a guy he knew who knew more about "that Guy". Seems he was pretty regular in the neighborhood, but they all knew him by a different name. That guy must have made a phone call right after talking to me because on my way to see the dealer's friend three giant Italians screamed up in a gold BMW.
I almost went for the gun, but held thinking they would try to talk first. Wrong again, two of them grabbed me, lifted me off the ground and slammed me back first onto the sidewalk. My head bounced pretty hard, but I didn't black out right away. They started hitting on me pretty good, after I got punched in the face a few times my body felt like it was floating and I remember cold little peaks in the concrete poking into my cheek, being ground in before everything went black.
When I finally came to I was in a small room with no furniture and white walls. There was a patio door or something but the blinds were closed. Across the room from me was one of the thugs, obviously The Muscle for That Guy. He had my revolver in hand and was watching me with a bored look.
"What the hell man?" I sat up and took inventory of myself and despite the bruising and the splitting headache I seemed ok.
"You wanted to meet That Guy?" The Muscle asked.
"What?" I shook my head a little until the pain convinced me not to. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
The words were barely out of my lips and the guy had crossed the room in a bound and open hand slapped me across the ear and head, sending me crashing back to the floor. He took his time returning to his chair, keeping me covered the entire time with the revolver.
"Damn." It was about all I could say, I was still dizzy from having my head basketballed around the block, and I didn't want any more slaps like that.
"You were looking for That Guy"?" His voice was flat, calm.
"You watch too many movies." I groaned and held up my hands real fast, but I was still dizzy and he caught me with the pistol right across my jaw.
I spit out a mouthful of blood, from the cut inside my cheek, drooling it onto the carpet. I pushed myself back onto one foot. I wasn’t going to let him hit me again. He saw it, shrugged and leaned forward a little.
"You hit like a bitch." he lunged forward as I leaped toward him, pushing with everything I could force into my legs. I got real lucky and made it under his swing, grabbed him around the middle and just pulled us both to the floor. We fell in a tangle of flailing limbs, him thrashing to get out from under me, punching my head and shoulders with his free hand. I focused on just trying to get my hand on that gun before I blacked out. He managed to roll over enough to get on top just as I got my finger in the trigger guard. In desperate panic I pulled, not even thinking where the bullet might hit as the gunshot exploded around us. The Muscle must have been shot somewhere, he slumped to the side and screamed, but he didn’t let go of me. I held the trigger down, crushing his finger into it, not wanting to let it reset for another shot. He thrashed trying to get his other hand on the gun and free his finger.
We had upset his chair and the small table next to it. The buzzing of the line off the hook caught my attention. I grabbed a handful of phone and bashed him in the teeth with it two or three times, just crunching it into his face. As he tried to turn away I looped the phone cord around his neck twice and pulled. He clawed at his throat but I lurched up putting my knee on both ends of the cord. With my free arm I pulled as hard as I could dragging the back of his neck tight against my leg.
He went crazy as he felt his throat close up, I was struck by his fists and head a few times, I was petrified to let go so I twisted my arm around a few times so I wouldn't lose my grip on the line. I tucked my head down away from him and lay there panting holding the line taut. His flailing had lost all strength, his face filled with blood and was turning dark blackish red. His hands weakly slapped at my leg and arms, but I could not let go. All the color had been squeezed from my hands and the cord looked imbedded in my skin. I could feel his body trembling through the cord, his tongue was dark purple and protruded from his mouth, his eyes finally rolled back fully in his head.
I pulled the gun from his grasp and I sat back kicking myself away from his body letting the phone pull away from my twisted cramped hands. He wasn't moving anymore, but I checked for a pulse a few times. I almost shot him too, but I didn't want another shot drawing attention to the area. I pulled aside the curtains, saw I was in some kind of office complex. It was still daylight out, but beyond that I didn't know anything about where I was.
I pocketed the gun and took his wallet and keys. I left out the patio door, taking care to use a shirt to slide the door open and closed. I could have laughed then if I wasn't so sore. The cops of my blood and fingerprints on the phone and carpet, it was a little late to try to hide myself now. Around the corner of the building the gold BMW was parked, the keys matched and I took it and left.
It was pretty late that night when I got back to the hotel with "My Friend" he took one look at me and blanched.
"Don't worry. I won."
"Won what? What'd you kill the other guy?" He winced as he said it, but I couldn't help but laugh. My head was killing me, most of my face was swollen and bruised I had at least 3 giant lumps on my head. I started with a wheeze and soon was lying on the bed giggling like a little kid.
My friend looked a little scared, and then pulled out a bottle of rum from the fridge, held it out for me to take a swig. It braced me up a little, and I grabbed it from him and drank deeply, wanting the numbness. I choked up for breath and looked over. "My friend was sitting in the chair looking at me. I took another swallow of rum, swished around my mouth to clear the blood taste.
"Yeah I killed him." I started another chuckle but a bubble seemed to swell up right below my throat and it came out as a sob. Tears welled up in my eyes; I was shaking all over a little overwhelmed by an immense feeling of black dread. I think my friend turned away to be nice as I wiped my swollen face gently with my sleeve.
"Yeah, I fucking killed him."

This guy.

2004-10-28T11:04:00.000-07:00

I was just protecting a friend, he got in over his head trying to shift to the shady side of business. Now someone had sent "This Guy" over to shake him down, or maybe even kill him. All I really knew about it was the panic that broke up my friend's voice over the phone. I met him out behind the mall, where a dense group of trees gave an illusion of dark forest, as long as you didn't listen to the cars whizzing by. He was supposed to meet "This Guy" there with a suitcase full of cash he didn't have. Between the two of us we decided it was best to meet this guy head on, take him out if we could. Sure "That Guy" could send some others to pick us off, but maybe he'd be nervous.
"This Guy" was supposedly pretty heavy, not in the weight sense, purely on reputation alone. He had a knife fetish and the people who'd seen him do his work weren't talking. We were there pretty early and "My friend" was twitching a little. He kept telling me how glad he was I was there which scared me a little. Somehow I'd earned a reputation too, but I didn't think a few fistfights earned as much respect as he was giving. Still I figured for the time being it wouldn't hurt. If "This Guy", who didn't know me, thought I might be something tougher I'd let him think that. I couldn't let him touch "My Friend", at least not if I was alive to stop it.
The only things I had going for me was my desperation, and the two colt pistols I had picked up at a pawn shop the day before. I spent all night cleaning and oiling and working those two guns. I test fired into a metal trash-can stuffed with blankets in my basement, so I knew they worked. Then I cleaned them and oiled them again, just to kill time. I couldn't sleep.
As the meet time got closer I gave "My Friend" the revolver, took off the safety for him so he wouldn't get nervous and forget. I tucked the other into my belt, flipping my shirt over it to hide it. I practiced getting it out a few time to make sure it wouldn't snag on anything. I really didn't like the feel of the gun against my stomach, I kept getting visions of my own guts spilling over my belt or a smoky bleeding hole in my leg.
When I was still a teenager I had collected knives, of all shapes and sizes, I never did anything with them, just kept them in a big box in my closet. To this day my family still gets me exotic or strange looking knives they find, usually in flea markets. I had a chrome handled butterfly knife in my toolbox so I got that out, a plan beginning to take shape. I didn't have a lot of hope it was going to work, but what else could I do?
"This Guy" walked onto the scene as casually as if he were picking up kids from tee-ball. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and slacks under a loose fitting sports coat.
"Hi!" he said all cheerful and gave a little wave. He stopped a few paces from where I'd set myself. Two to three paces in front of Randy, and a little off to the side so I wasn't in "My Friend's" line of fire.
"I don't see any suitcase. Where's the money?" he had a high voice, a bit of an accent but I couldn't place it, maybe Italian, maybe Russian.
"I told "That Guy", I don't have any money. I did the one deal I'm not doing another. He got paid from the last time didn't he?" "My Friend" sounded Scared, but he didn't run. "This Guy" shook his head,slowly. His voice got cold, almost a hiss.
"I don't understand. You were supposed to have the money. In a case. For me." He edged forward a step, while he spoke, then another. I dropped one side of the butterfly knife so it swung open, and just left the blade and one handle hanging down. It was real discrete, didn't make a sound but the flash of the chrome caught his eye like I hoped it would.
"Don't creep up on me." I forced my voice to be low, threatening. His eyebrows raised slightly but he leaned back a bit. He moved his hand a little just enough to catch my eye and I saw he was holding a knife to, only his was not showy at all. The handle looked like smoky gray marble and the blade was all brushed steel, it barely seemed to catch the light. I tried not to swallow, he'd probably been holding it all along. Now I was sure "My Friend" and I were dead, he hadn't come just for money, his eyes were too cold.
"Alright," I said, raising my hand slowly letting the knife swing closed. "I've got the case up in my car here." I nodded back the way he'd come. I just needed him to be distracted for a second, then I was going to pull the colt semi from my pants and just start firing. I swear he was reading my mind, his lips twitched in what I had to assume was a smile and waved me on to lead the way.
"No way man." I said. "You start walking and we'll follow you." my legs were pillars of adrenaline jelly and I was almost too scared to try to walk, he must have seen my fear because he turned and started walking. "This Guy" probably figured I was too terrified of him to try anything, maybe he even thought we were really gonna pay him. He might have thought I only had the knife since I flashed it at him on purpose, but as soon as he turned away I pulled the pistol out and shot him right between the shoulder blades.
I was really close to him, I swear I felt the smoke and wind from the shot bounce off his back and brush past my hair. He flew forward a few feet landing half twisted around some scrub trees. I made myself walk up to him, he was lying down but he didn't seem dead. His body was moving a bit, his feet rubbing together lightly, his jaw working a little but only saliva came out. I didn't smell anything that could be his bowels releasing so I pointed at his head and looked away as I shot him in the head.
At least I meant to. Looking away must only work in movies, I missed shaving off a large part of his face. The bullet hit right under his sinus, there was a splintered mass of bone sticking out where his cheekbone used to be and I could see up under his eye the muscles twitching as his eyeball moved, his entire lower eyelid was gone as well as the whole side of his nose. He was making a groaning noise which was freaking me out.
I heard "My Friend" retch behind me, so he must have looked, but I smacked myself in the leg hard with the gun and clenched my teeth forcing the vomit down. This time I aimed carefully and put one bullet right behind his ear and another right behind his temple. There was a loud buzzing noise in my head that almost matched the gunshots. Everything looked a little fishbowled, blackening around the edges. I realized I wasn't breathing, but as soon as I sucked in a deep breath I almost fell over vomiting. The smell of the gunpowder and a rusty iron smell thickened in my throat. "My Friend" grabbed my arm and pulled me away from "This Guy's" corpse and we sort of shuffled, ran out of the trees.
It was pretty early morning and I didn't notice anyone standing around staring at us, but I could feel hundreds of eyes staring at me. My ears were still ringing from the shots and we tried to stay cool as I drove off. I tried to go slow but it was hard, we were both pretty adrenaline racked, and not thinking clearly. "My Friend" still had the revolver in his hand, at least he pulled it out to cover me I thought. I pointed at it
"Put that shit away man." He looked around wildly for a second, then caught on and shoved the pistol into his coat pocket.
"Is the safety on?" I felt I was shouting over the ringing in my ears, but he didn't say anything. He pulled the gun out again and carefully switched on the safety. He seemed calmer, focusing on something seemed to help calm him down.
He looked over at me, "Shit, you're all covered in blood." I flipped down the visor mirror and sure enough I was speckled like a painter but all over in red dots. He pulled an old t-shirt from the back seat and I tried to wipe up a little but it wasn't working while driving. I thought we should get a hotel room, one of the cheap prostitute rooms off the highway where we could clean up, but I didn't have any cash.
"You have any money? We could get a room and I could get all this blood washed off." He pulled out his wallet and started to check.
"Man, I should have taken his wallet, you know? We could have got some money out of this." I giggled a little, he looked at me worried but I reined it in. My whole body was still shaking like a leaf, and I could feel the edge of hysteria lurking close by.
" I took the money." In a low voice I barely heard him.
"What?"I was still thinking of that guy's wallet." When? You didn't have time."
I pulled up to a red light, but kept twitching for the gas, wanting to scream out of there and maybe leave the state.
"No. I mean, I took the money. You know, for "That Guy"." He was looking down at his hands, I suppressed the urge to smack him. "I didn't think he would send someone like "This Guy". He just a little prick."
"How much?"
"About a half mil." I was quiet for a while and finally he looked up at me, but by then I was smiling. I turned back onto the road, slouched down a little more comfortably in the seat.
"Cool."

A real friend.

2004-10-22T06:40:00.000-07:00

Misty was the cutest girl I ever had any type of relations with. She was drop dead gorgeous and the only thing that kept her out of the cool kids group was her insane parents. One time the cops had to come pick up her dad, he had flipped out completely. She had run out of soap, and for the whole week had been using shampoo as soap. Shampoo was too expensive to waste that way, but she was too scared to ask for more soap, because every time she did he would yell at her for leaving the soap under the running shower water and wasting it. They had a townhouse in a mid level community, her mom drove a beamer, he drove a Lincoln, but they both seemed to hate having an extra mouth in the house. We never dated or had a "thing" we just started hanging together all the time, she said she liked the way I kissed and I loved the way she'd hang out with me doing anything, or nothing at all for hours. My friends were all jealous as hell because she was so beautiful. My exes that saw her got flames in their eyes and chewed on their tongues. She had a lot of sex before hanging out with me. She got a reputation of being a slut honestly and early, but when I met her she had just come off a boyfriend that was in jail for assaulting her. I created a comfort zone for her, even the times we made out I never pushed her for anything more than just some friendly groping. She used to start sobbing for no reason, and if I was there she buried her face on my chest and her whole body would just heave with the force of her crying. I couldn't imagine how terrible it was for her when someone wasn't there. Some days I was terrified to leave her alone, but she never told me a thing about why she cried. When she was done she'd wipe her eyes, give me a soft kiss and we'd go back to what we were doing. She found herself a boyfriend, ran away to Philadelphia to live with him for a few months before coming back. Turns out her whole family had started counseling and they were all on some kind of meds. She seemed stronger hearted, things were going pretty well for her. We didn't see much of each other, too many heavy embarrassing memories. A year or so later when I had a really messy break-up, I spent a few days by myself writing teenage angst filled poems then I called her up, she drove over to pick me up and we drove out to this little country fair in one of the small towns nearby. We smoked some pot and spent the night wandering among the carneys, just talking and smoking cigarettes. We spent a couple hours lounging in the front seat of her Father's Lincoln chainsmoking, reading poetry back and forth. We talked only about the new things that were going on, She was going back to school, her parents took her to Europe over the summer. She made me promise to not ever do anything permanent to myself over any girl ever. Then she dropped me off squeezed my hand then gave me a peck on the cheek and she drove off. I was standing there on the curb trying to figure out what the hell she had been talking about. I had never considered doing anything to myself, and for a long time I thought I had given her the wrong impression when I had called her. We never spoke after that, and I never saw her again. It was a couple years later before I added it up. It was summertime (August I think) she picked me up wearing a long sleeve coat that she never took off. I thought she had sprained her wrist or something because every time she used her left hand on the steering wheel she winced. Her new therapy with the family and the drugs she was on. It finally hit me one day and I stopped completely stunned I had missed it. I heard later she had 2 kids, and had moved back into her parents. She ran into one of my friends and asked about me but I had already moved out of state. I wrote her a letter about what I had done after that. She sent me a picture of her holding two cute baby boys. Long sleeves but a genuine smile.

Psycho Chick #3

2004-10-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

Psycho chick 3 Heather was actually the first of the three. She was my first, and also the first of my best friend. Unfortunately she chose his first for him behind a local convenience store. It was undoubtedly awkward and stressful because he admitted later to not orgasming. My own experience with her was quite different. She was a depressed art student, who actually went to the art college in Philadelphia. She had all sorts of art trauma going on and despite it all I never saw, or bothered to ask about any of her artwork. After my friend she flirted with then screwed my older brothers good friend. He was just about to join the Army and right before he left they supposedly became engaged. The day after he left I was supposed to meat a casual (non sexual) girlfriend over at Heather's house. I got there early and we played Mario Bros on the tv for a while and finally decided the other girl wasn't coming. I was flirting, but not real seriously, the way I did with every girl I was around. I was a 16 year old virgin that had only ever kissed one girl since puberty, any girl seemed fair game to me. Heather was "different" she finally got tired of playing and stood up, turned to me at the doorway and said "You want to come upstairs and fuck me?" My actual reply after a moment of stunned silence was "Sure, why not" She giggled then, the only time I recall her doing that and replied "You get that offer a lot do you?" kind of sarcastically. I typical of my leather clad image shrugged and pulled out a cigarette on the way up to her room. Mostly to hide the tremendous pounding of my heart, and my awkward erection. I half thought she was kidding but followed her up to her bedroom. A sinister room, painted a dark purple with black branches twining over the walls, crowded with bottles and clothes and a large iron bed with canopy rods, but no curtains. The windows were painted black, and even back then I realized it was a really juvenile display. She was already naked on the bed she had a Renaissance body, slightly larger but all lush curves, probably the foundation for my current erotic tastes. I sat on the edge of the bed looking at her as I smoked my cigarette, I felt real close to losing control, and forced myself to remain calm. Finally she got impatient and almost tore my clothes off. The next day she called me over to help make some cookies to send to her fiance. Over the next month I was at her house every day, most times I took the bus straight to her house, for many days I didn't even go home at night, just sleeping over and heading out to school the next day. Word got around and plenty of people offered to kick my ass for me if Jay didn't kill me when he got back. I was in a really weird place though, every day I went there she would pour me a glass of booze, bourbon, whiskey, vodka. We'd go up to her room and hang out for hours watching movies and having sex. She tricked me into taking acid 2 or three times, only stopping the last time because I got out of control and she had to lock herself in the bathroom while I gibbered and screamed in the hallway. We never kissed though, she wouldn't because she was engaged. I was drunk all the time, or on drugs and her family only served to make the entire scene more unreal. The first time I ate dinner at her house her mother, who previously had had several nervous breakdowns made 5 pounds of mashed potatoes. She took her dinner with a handful of pills that she took between bites of the potatoes. I had a large glass of vodka straight, but didn't mind I was already wasted. Her father shook my hand then went and sat in the garage eating dinner alone. I wasn't infatuated with her or in love with her, we barely talked except about the movies we watched, I used to sit there and glare at her while I wrote poetry. She glared back and occasionally would try to punch me in the face, for no apparent reason. We got into screaming matches and threatened each other with death, but she never asked me to leave,and we kept having sex all the time. Finally one day she seemed to really lose it, I showed up and she took me into the bathroom showed me a gloppy red thing in the toilet and told me it was her baby from my brothers friend, that she had miscarried. She kept it there to show anyone who doubted she had been pregnant. I still don't know if that was true or not, but it was finally too much for me. I called her a crazy bitch and tried to leave. She tried to stab me with a knife that ironically I had given her. I took the knife from her pushed her to the floor and threw the knife into her bedroom door where it stuck in a full 2 inches. I never went back to her house, retreated into my group of friends who were actually relieved to see me acting normal again. When her "fiance" came home from boot camp he called me, thanked me for having a reason to break up with her. This entire period of time I was trapped in a bleakness. All my innocence was stripped from me, and even now looking back it feels like her entire family was just playing with me, keeping me there. Succubi or vampires, or soul stealers, or just crazy, but when I left them, I actually became myself again. I was shy around girls, I went back to youth group and even talked to a nun about the stain on my soul. Not so much for having sex with an engaged pregnant woman, but for how close I felt I came to possibly hurting or killing her. I was disgusted with myself with how fast I had fallen, I was a little scared to have sex again until Tiara, she possibly was the last victim of Heather. Heather ended up married and having a kid with some junky, he ended up with aids and the two moved out of the state, sometime after I had finished high school.

Respect

2004-10-15T05:50:00.000-07:00

We were just bored and poor in a town of people with too much money we were brought together by the fact that our parents had mortgaged everything to get us into such a town. So our futures would be brighter as we rubbed shoulders with sons and daughters of doctors, lawyers and politicians. It doesn't rub off though, and it's impossible to connect with that closed society. So I stuck close by my friends when I could, but it seemed we never even got to share a class. I was in the 4th grade the first time someone noticed my shoes were a year or two out of fashion. It took until high school not to be noticed for wearing everything 2 years past it's time. In the summer before the sixth grade I finally got my parents to buy a pair of "British Knights" high top sneakers for me. The price being affordable should have been a sign. First day of school that year I show up with the shoes unlaced halfway and pulled tight, the oversized tongue hanging out in perfect mimicry of the cool way to wear them. Seems everyone switched back to adidas over the summer or nike, I didn't care after that, but that first day I was in 2 fights, I cried on the bus ride home, with a black eye and a swollen lip. Bad enough to be picked on for my "burger King" shoes, but for the year I was the crybaby. "what's the matter Alan you going to cry" followed me off the bus every day for years. Truth be told I'd taken worse beatings from friends, from my father, but I was so certain at the time I would click into the cool crowd. That I wouldn't have to spend all my time dodging the bullies, when my illusion broke that first day of the sixth grade I saw the whole year in ruins before me. That year at first all the guys got bored beating on me, as they all started their growth spurts on the road to high school it just accentuated that I was almost 2 years younger than most in my class. I was a midget among giants, a midget with a quick mouth that always landed me in trouble. Imagine woody allen hanging with a group of linebackers. They never understood what I was saying, but could hurt me with no effort. I thought it was good until the first girl challenged me to a fight. She called me out, a giggling group of already dating preteens backing her up. I was stunned, I scornfully returned I wasn't going to fight a girl and she punched me right in the cheek. I backed up a little but she was like a wolf smelling blood and followed tiny little fists flying at me, I could barely feel them, all I heard was the laughing. I was bright red and flushed with shame and embarrassment. I hated the people watching me, laughing at me, and she wouldn't stop. She grabbed a handful of my hair and tried to kick me in the groin, but I finally reacted, grabbed her wrist pushed her away from me. The guys jumped in to rescue her, like I knew they were going to. I had hoped if she got tired of swinging, they'd go away. They held me down, encouraged her, "Go ahead kick his ass. Kick him in the balls" I probably had tears rolling down my face. I cursed like a sailor, thrashing back and forth, way to weak to pull away. She might have felt bad or sickened, or just tired but she didn't kick me. She walked away and the guys had a no restraint against kicking me anywhere. Surprising how short this could be, how little time elapsed as a teacher finally showed up as I was pulling myself off the ground. Sometimes I hated the teachers worse than anyone, he tried to help me stand I was embarrassed enough, humiliated enough for one day and there were still a crowd of kids standing around watching for more blood, more tears to call me on. "Get the fuck off me!" and I struggled away from the teacher only to be grabbed firmly this time and almost frog-marched to the principle's office. How fat he was, with a big desk I stared over too many times. Sometimes he felt bad for me, told me I should avoid the locker room, the bathrooms between classes. Not this time. This time his words "He was trying to help you. It's not fair of you to abuse him, curse at him when he's trying to help you." One weeks detention writing the definition of the word respect over and over again. I learned my lesson. Respect: A feeling of appreciative, often deferential regard; esteem. A particular aspect, feature, or detail. To relate or refer to; concern.

Psycho chick #2

2004-10-12T07:05:00.000-07:00

Psycho chick # 2M was a farmers daughter, from the outskirts of town, she was a bit chunky and awkward. I spent a night hanging at the bowling alley with my friends hitting on one of her friends who kept trying to get me to talk to M. I was a little under the influence and as the night wore on I became more and more until I ended up making out with her for quite a while at the end of the night. This wasn't my first hookup ever so I didn't think much of what I could remember, and never bothered to follow up with her. Figuring it was a dead issue was a large mistake. She started showing up at parties that I went to. Always in the background, waiting around the edges, her friend starting dating one of my friends so she always got invited. At the end of one torrid night of adolescent binge drinking she led me into a bedroom and stripped me down on the waterbed, I was starting to spin and felt the pre- vomit swelling feeling and tried to get up, but she held me down and wouldn't let me up, we were wrestling on the waterbed, fortunately the adrenaline quelled the imminent expectoration, and I managed to fight her off. I tried grabbing at my clothes and she started slapping and kicking me screaming " No No I won't let you leave."She was really hysterical angry, and crying, all the while trying to drag me into bed. I lurched out of the door into the party, buck naked with long scratch marks all over my chest and arms. Typical headbanger party I was greeted with cheers and whistles until a "good" friend noticed my swelling lip and the scratches on my face. I was just mumbling comments like. "get that fucking bitch away man, she's nuts" He gave me a throw blanket to cover up and went in to get my clothes but when she saw him coming she bolted. She tore out of the house with my jeans shirt and leather jacket, the last being a social felony in our circle. I was a bit irrational when I found out it was gone, and was restrained by two guys from running out and chasing her down. One of the girls at the party came up with a pair of sweatpants and we loaded up a few cars and ran out to the usual hang outs searching. We saw her car at the bowling alley, all my gear was in the back seat. Two headbanger chicks from our set went in and dragged her out by her hair. By now all the guys were beginning to feel bad for her. She had some problems, but the girls were all fired up, and slapped her around a little. The next weekend a truckload of rednecks caught up to me and my friend walking downtown, M's brothers. They were talking pretty tough, but I couldn't tell if they were going to get serious or not so I grabbed the one closest to me and swung him around by his coat, slamming him into the truck. The other guys started twitching like they were going to jump in but were uncertain. I kicked the guy on the ground once or twice, and noticed my bud had got between the others and me, but they looked more scared than anything, they were young, younger than I thought at first the guy on the ground was probably the only one old enough to even drive. I let him up and they took off never to be heard from again. I cannot say the same for her. She was in full out stalker mode now. I ignored her as best I could, the same two headbanger chicks must have chased her out of the bowling alley 2 more times. The final straw, one night her friend came running in saying she was killing herself out in the parking lot. We went out to see what was up, she was sitting there on the ground scratching at her wrist with a piece of broken glass. I actually laughed, and cheered her on. I told her that if she managed to kill herself I would finally have some respect for her. We didn't see her for a couple weeks, we wondered the entire time if she had actually gone and done herself in, but up she popped at another party, this time some guy in tow. They practically had sex on the sofa in a friends living room, mid party. She kept trying to shoot me significant glances, but we were all laughing at her. Finally headbanger chicks grabbed her and dragged her outside. The guy tried to hang a little but was too young, and we wouldn't let him drink. She was also involved in the fistfight later with Tiara See "Psycho chick #1", but beyond that finally left me alone.

Psycho Chick #1

2004-10-08T06:24:00.000-07:00

Throughout high school I dated 3 severely psychotic chicks. The first I'll call her Tiara was luscious Italian, she had wide hips, small chest but a face that could make heaven moan. We dated successfully for about 3 months went back and forth for 3 more months. I met her officially at a youth group weekend gathering, I was the only bad boy in the group, as my other leather wearing friends couldn't make it. They never understood why I always went on any weekend trip the church planned, I mean any, but it was pretty simple. During the time I actually lived with my parents I couldn't stand being at home, weekends were horrible, angry, unpleasant, etc.. When I had moved out and lived with my bud Randy I went because on every trip I had some sort of sexual encounter with a female. I was church chick magnet. Long haired or mohawked, black leather jacket, combat boots severe disregard for any authority.. Basically perfect weapon for a semi religious girl to use in her teen war for independence from their parents. Back to Tiara. I was definitely a weapon at first. I was the first non Italian boy she brought home. Her parents hated me instantly, but let her talk to me because they knew me from church. One thing they didn't know I wasn't catholic. I just went to that church because the Lutheran pastor "Pastor Dave" didn't get along with me. I'll go into that later. So we met at this outing, I was flirting with every girl there and it was one of those instances where the chick decides it. She walked up to me and said "Let me see your jacket" I of course handed it over, she put it on right in front of 3 other girls I was talking to. I didn't even realize she had just claimed me, but every time I started talking to another girl the rest of the weekend, even about church related stuff she flounced up wearing my jacket. Which I have to say was sexy. She took me to a family party for the forth of July in a little suburban area south of Newark, but still in the city. It was out of the movies with all the crazy Italians there. I was a dumb kid though, and never had a chance there, I was targeted by a line of cousins, uncles, aunts and just sent whirling. I'd never been to such a large family gathering though and was really nervous, and really out of place. Tiara paraded me around smiling at all the sinister looks shot her way (my way) after one of her uncles threatened to "kneecap me with a shotgun full of rocksalt" if I ever disrespected her I was a trembling mess. I was just barely 16 junior in high school, and I utterly believed him. I was getting my first dose ever of ulcer causing stress and couldn't eat a thing. Suddenly I was the antichrist and half the people there must have made a point to ask me if I didn't like their cooking. I ended up eating a plateful or two to ease the crowd, then snuck off to the bathroom and threw it all up. Thankfully her mom took pity on me after that for a little while and she lightened up. We could only hang out together during youth group, or after school and mostly spent all our times making out, playing finger games, etc.. (love that etc.. Today) She pretended she wasn't a virgin, I was a fool to believe her, but she was my 2nd and I was insanely horny all the time. It all crashed down though due to a short movie. We went to a chaperoned movie with my mom and her lover, but when we got to the theatre I took her to see "The Lion King" whilst mommy dearest went to go see some more adult movie. Our movie ended almost 45 minutes earlier than theirs (why do you think I picked it) and we opted to wait in the van. My mothers car was a white Chevy short schoolbus with bench seats for 15 people and dark tinted windows. So we made out heavily for the entire time. My mother knocked on the window as she walked up and we pulled ourselves into shape pretty quickly. My mom's lover took one look at us and busted out laughing. Tiara had a monster hickey right below her left earlobe. I had never given a girl one before, and to this day do not remember doing it, but there it was. My mom and friend wanted to hide it with makeup, but Tiara told them not to worry she'd be fine. Let the battle begin!! Charge!! Oh she won some points from her parents that day, I wasn't allowed to see her, speak to her step near her lawn. Twice her father ran me off the road with his car while I was biking around town. Her "family" made assorted threats at me, but we still hung out in youth group and school. We had sex in my bedroom one afternoon. I still didn't realize she was inexperienced, and was rough on her. My first had been an older chick just out for fun, so I had no idea how to be romantic and tender. She was all game though, we used up all three condoms I had and like a stud I sat up in the bed and lit a cigarette. That is of course when she told me she had been a virgin. Stupid Girl.. I'm still mad about that. I'd like to think I would have been nicer to her, better, gentler. I walked her home with her crying the whole way because she hurt so much. I went over to my friend eric's house that afternoon and cried myself, very distraught. I felt evil like hitler. He blew it off said it's her fault for not telling blah blah.. It didn't help so I went to talk to the Nun who ran our youth group. Sister Robin was pretty cool, gave me this advice "pray more fuck less and for the love of God do not go near that girl's family again without a wedding ring." We always tried to get her to swear, sort of a running joke. I was the only one to ever do it as far as I know and I couldn't tell anyone..Ha We broke up then, she was scared of me a little. She told half her girlfriends I was so smooth and practiced about it (the smoking I think) that pretty soon all her friends though I was a man-slut. The other half ( including the youth group girls) she told that I was just huge and hurt her badly. A little ego stroke, but she couldn't tell them she had lied about not being a virgin. Several times in group she had mentioned her "sexual encounters" before me, and I didn't blow her cover. We got back together almost every other day fought broke up. She started hanging out with a guy I worked with at Pizza Hut and when I found out I shoved him onto the oven conveyor belt and held him there until he was close enough o the flames some of his hair shriveled. She couldn't get a guy to talk to her after that so we started dating seriously again. She was just playing though, we went to some youth encounter thing and right when my mother showed up to pick us up She started deep tonguing with some hippy surfer dude. I was seriously in love with her at the time, blew up punched the bus door doing some serious damage, then sat in the back crying like a little girl all the way home. She sat stiffly up front (ha should have left her there, but Mom wouldn't do that) Mom did give her the evil eye the whole way, and she practically flew out of the car when we got to her house. She tried to make up to me the next day and I went out and bought her six long stem red roses. I hid on the floor of my friends car while he delivered them. Her mom put them on a vase on her dining room table. I sent her a note separately, something about the 6 months we were together. The next day I sent her one dried black rose the same way, except a put a note in it about how she had taken all the beauty in the world and turned it into something distorted and dying. Her mother actually kept that note for her. Hoped it would break her will when it came to dating non Italian boys. I took the next couple days off from school. Tiara couldn't catch a break my friends were loyal, and cruel. They kept getting on the school intercom dedicating two songs to her many times during the day for a week, Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls"(she was pretty hippy), Ugly Kid Joe's "(I hate)Everything about You" The called me gloating every day, and she called me in tears everyday. The heavy metal girls I hung with punched her in the hallways and she was terrified to go into the locker room. It was funny in a really sick way. I tried to get my friends to stop, back then I wasn't cruel, just broken hearted. A friend Dan said,"we understand you have feelings for her and don't want to hurt her, but we're your friends, so we'll take care of this for you." Funny guy..They got her to quit calling me after that, for a little while at least. She turned psycho like two months later. Calling my house every day, showing up wherever I went. She stalked me for over a year, through 2 or 3 other girlfriends, then stopped. Then at a party she and the two other psycho exes got into a fistfight about me. I dragged her out of the fight and took her up the road, she had too pretty a face to be brawling. I think I kissed her a little, but I was drunk, and we didn't really talk after that. She dropped off the scene, stopped going to youth group, went to a different school. She ended up dating my friend Eric, she told him I had a really small dick. Ha! didn't bother me a bit. Not even a little bit. (groan)I could almost write a book about her, but I'm done for now, the other two psycho chicks will have to wait, along with the stories of the stalking all three did.

Hardware store girl

2004-09-09T05:41:00.000-07:00

This weekend I developed a need for some black duct tape, my fake leather recliner is showing it's age and I thought to myself "Nothing could be finer than some shiny black duck tape holding my favorite chair together." I went to the local super hardware store (the people at the little Ace hardware are rude assholes so I won't buy from them any more) which is just a few minutes up the road. After wandering the aisles for 30 minutes or so I finally found the duct tape (paint supplies??? Come on...) I walked around a bit more daydreaming about all the cool stuff I could build if I had all the tools I wanted. That and some lessons, maybe some this old house manuals. I picked up a can of discount cashews and headed into line. The cashier, a brunette with shoulder length hair, looked up and locked eyes with me from 3 deep in the line where I stood. She had deep chestnut brown eyes that pierced me, I quirked a half smile trying for cocky but friendly. She started suddenly, shaking her head to herself and moving her attention back to the customer. Her profile made me ache, she had a long neck and a perfect curve to her lower back. She looked so "firm" so healthy so curved, I couldn't;t take my eyes off her. Twice more she looked back tome, locking my gaze, a devoured her freckles and large pouty lower lip with my eyes, her thick black lashes, the wisp of hair that dangled over her right eye. I was second in line now and she swept her gaze over me top to bottom. I hoped my erection wasn't too obvious through my pants, but was too scared to look, and maybe draw attention to it. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she turned back and forth placing items in the cart bending down to scan a bag of dog food on the bottom cart.
Finally my turn in line and she turned to me and stopped. Her eyes bored into mine and she didn't even look at the tape and cashews I had set on the counter. She cocked her lips in a half smile, all cocky a little questioning and tilted her head.
I almost said something excellent, I was almost cool this once, but instead I blushed. Seriously blushed and felt a light sweat break out on my forehead and my hands. Aw shucks.... So I reach into my pocket for my wallet realizing just how tight my pants are for the first time. I'm afraid I'm going to just sort of fall dead on the floor and I break out in a cold sweat. I look back up to her and she's still smiling at me, her eyes sparkling, she gives a laugh like a hiccup and grabs my nuts (cashews!) I give my best all embarrassed chuckle, and finally say hi. She grabs her name tag and turn it toward me "Cara"
"Hello Cara"
"Hello"
She smiles playfully at me, bedroom smiles, leather belts and silk tickler smiles, and I hurry to stuff my wallet back in my pants. She hands me my change and receipt, both her hands linger on mine for a few moments.
"See ya" she says and turns to the 40 something mother behind me with a smirk on her face. So I didn't imagine it I thought. I nod to Cara "Have a good day." and tear my eyes away from her to walk out the door, thankful that there's a turn at the exit so I can take another look at her. I turn back no longer red distance making me confident, and she's looking right at me. I smile at her right before I pass the corner.
I still have my change in hand and I shove the coins into a pocket and pull out my wallet for the bills. The receipt has writing on it and I turn it back to read- "cara ***-***-****"
Damn.
This has never happened.
Should I call her "Hey Cara, This is the guy with the erection. You handled my nuts, remember?"
or "Hi, this is the embarrassed red faced guy who could barely talk around you, want to come over for some cashews?"

The watcher.

2004-09-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

I was sitting a the bar drinking a Manhattan on ice when I noticed her sitting about 3 stools up. She looked like some of my ex girlfriends. A little Goth a little hippy, she was probably dragged here by some club chick girlfriend. She had a sneer and a glass of what I'm assuming was vodka, reminded me a little of Ally Sheedy in "The Breakfast Club". All in all she was pretty cute, but you could feel she'd shoot down every attempt at conversation. She had such a hostile vibe that people coming up for drinks slid away from her as far as they could. She was glaring across the bar at a blond chatting it up with some muscle bound freak. She was in full search mode, she kept running her hands up his arms, laughing and giggling. She was bouncing in time with the music and wearing a metallic blue/pink mini dress. I have to admit though muscle guy actually did a good job pretending to look up at her face once in a while. She was stacked and slender and looked like a stripper in baby doll wear, she had most of the bar staring her way. I snorted to myself and turned back to my drink and observation of Ally. She met my eyes returning from the neon chick and mouthed "What" I quirked my onesided grin and mouthed back "Jem". She laughed surprising herself as much as me that she had caught the 80's reference.
She picked up her glass and came over, "Funny" she took the stool next to me. We chatted for a while, the bellowing chat trying to be heard over the pulse of the dance floor. I noticed her drink was low, "what are you drinking?" "Water", she said. I must have looked surprised though I didn't think I had, so she explained. "Shar- got dosed by some asshole at this club with that date rape shit." She jerked her head towards her friend.
"No shit" brilliant response from me, "Why's she still come here?"
Ally shrugged and shot another glare at Shar "She's dumb."
"So you're baby sitting? Or lifeguarding?" Ally shrugged again,
"I'm just sort of looking around, seeing what everyone looks like, watching her back too, but mostly trying to guess which one of these fuckers is a rapist."
"Oh." That was a convo killer. I took a big swig off my drink, she said "You don't look like the type to hang out in a place like this." Kind of a statement kind of question, too scary considering the last topic. I figured I'd better defuse that line of thought quick.
" I work for the owner." I nodded to the mirror windowed room hanging above the dance floor.
"oh yeah? Doing what?" By now I figured she really had pegged my as the asshole she was looking for. To bad really I was kind of enjoying the attention up until now.
"This and that, mostly I just watch people."
"For what?"
"Well before I was talking to you I was watching muscle head over there and the two guys across the bar staring at your friend." I motioned to two greasy looking club guys who seemed mesmerised by Shar and her bouncing metallic blue pink top.
"they and muscle keep giving each other hard looks and if it gets too tense, I'll call in someone to break it up."
"So you're a bouncer?" she eyed me up and down, I'm a bigger guy but I'm not in really good shape a little too soft around the edges, though weight wise I probably had most of the guys besides muscle beat.
I could tell she wasn't believing me, but for the moment she didn't seem about to start screaming out "Rapist".
I guess a little divine intervention was in order because greasy number one decided to make a move, trying to outcool muscle he strolled over and slid into place on the other side of her. He started talking to Shar just talking over whatever they had been saying totally ignoring musclehead. Shar like a typical club chic started chatting it up with him like it was no big thing, but she kept looking back and smiling at muscle, trying to keep things cool. She looked a little scared like she'd seen a few fights start over her before. Ally saw it or sensed it too and said "Oh shit."
Greasy guy number two had moved up behind the muscle guy, and the whole thing was getting really tense. I got up and walked up to Shar tapping her on the shoulder. All three guys swivelled on me like prison guards, but I kept my hands down and shouted really loud so they could all hear. "You're names Shar right?" She nodded. I pointed up the bar to Ally. "Your friend is feeling really sick. She asked me to tell you she needs some help." She turned to Ally who had the whitest face I'd ever seen. "Oh my god, she grabbed her purse off the bar and without a second glance at any of the guys she brushed past them and went to Ally. They got up and moved in the direction of the bathroom so I turned back to the guys.
"Yo, what the fuck?" from greasy numero uno. He looked to his friend maybe trying to decide if they were going to start some shit now. Muscle head finally seemed to catch on when he saw the other one right up behind him. He turned mostly toward the second guy and greasy started to step to him already swinging at the back of his head. I stepped forward tripping him then knocking him headfirst into the bar with shoulder. I think it stunned him a little, he hit the ground with a grunt but didn't yell or anything. I grabbed his wrist and locked up his arm, pulled him upright and hissed in his ear. "Don't make a scene, or I'm going to crack your fuckin' arm."
He was standing there on his toes, eyes rolling a bit wild at his friend. Greasy number two was looking back and forth between the huge arms of muscle guy and his squirming friend. Two bouncers showed up, I nodded at the second greasy and they grabbed him, he started to struggle but one of the guys got a finger lock on him and he yipped once before they marched to the back door. I followed with my guy and muscle head for some reason followed all of us until the next bouncer told him to fuck off before he got kicked out.
We got into the back room and as soon as I let go, he spun and tried to get in my face. I'm not very diplomatic, and not being a bouncer has it's advantages so I kneed him in the balls and shoved him to the side. His friend kept saying "yo what the fuck" and looked like he expected a pretty serious beatdown. I pointed to the back door and said "grab your friend here and get the fuck out." he didn't seem to understand and stood there twitching for a minute.
"I said get him, and get the fuck out, or I'm going to have you thrown out.." That started him moving but when he went to help his friend up he got shoved away, greasy number one was jerking at his belt like he was pulling something so I kicked him as hard as I could in the face. The two bouncers grabbed number two, as I reached down and pulled a small 22 derringer out of this guys belt. The bouncer called for the head bouncer to get the cops back here. This fucker was going to jail tonight, and we just held them there until the cops came. Funny though they found enough Rohypnol on the two guys to charge them with possession for distribution. I never figured them for rapists, I figured they were just punks out for a fight. They looked too sleazy to actually be the bad guys, but turns out they were.

Pirate treasure Or The apple trees

2004-08-17T15:04:00.000-07:00

When I was around 10 years old my younger brother and I used to dig out behind my father's shed. We were convinced we would find great treasures like arrowheads or fossils. This was all started by my father's boyhood friend who was an amateur archeologist, and a professional geologist. He was always showing us little plant and trilobite fossils he had found here or there. We even had a collection of geods that he gifted us with every year for Christmas.
Back behind the shed however we never found a thing beside roots and rocks. We decided to move over the fence into the small horse pasture next door. We picked a spot behind some oak trees cut off from view of the owners house and our own house. There was a small pony and a white old mare that lived back there we had been feeding them veggies and sugar since we found out they were there and they never minded us being in their space. We must have dug for over an hour, I remember my brother being up to his waist in this hole when we found a blue glass mason jar full of black moldy coins. Pirate treasure! We were so sure. We took the jar out behind our shed and hid it in one of the holes we had already dug.
For days we went back and dug these giant pits all over the neighbors pasture. Thankfully the pony and horse were old and slow or they might have hurt themselves, but at the time we didn't even consider.
Like all boys do who find trouble we were eventually caught. The neighbor had finally noticed all the new holes and ditches in her yard and understandably she freaked out a little. Her husband waited one afternoon out there hiding in the brush wearing hunting camouflage until we snuck in with our shovels. He jumped out and grabbed us, I just remember trying to run then trying to smack this man I was sure was a Pirates ghost with my shovel. We were dragged none to gently up to the front door of our house. The look on my dad's face made me wish we had run afoul of some pirates. We confessed rapidly to the digging and the jar of coins. The neighbor relented all at once, but my father? Not a chance. He sent us over there to fill up every one of those holes except two. Those two he had us dig wider and deeper until it satisfied him, then he and my older brother took two 5 or 6 year old apple trees out of his own orchard and planted them in the holes.
Then of course came the punishment, with my father reparation always came before punishment, so that the injured party suffered as little as possible. First we had to take the jar of pennies over to the neighbors house. She was very nice and tried to invite us in for some cookies, but Dad would have nothing to do with it. He stood at the edge of the property as we apologizes profusely and ducked out and ran as fast as we could back to our own yard. My father was never averse to the hand or the belt, but sometimes he was just downright creative. Funny we were more scared of those times, this time he took us to a nursery and had us pick out two replacement trees, the finest ones in the lot he said, and we sure found them. Of course after he paid for them came the trick, now we owed him for the trees he had to buy! We had never heard of minimum wage, and in all fairness for how small we were we probably deserved the $.25 per hour he paid us. My dad the Navy engineer even drew up a chart and a log. He checked it weekly against all our chores, marking us down if we tried to fudge the numbers, helping us out if we forgot to note anything. I don't know how long it took us to finish that debt. I never really remember it ending, but knowing Dad he played it fairly to the end, maybe raising our wages as we got better at certain things. My brother and I though got to claim those trees (eventually) even to today my dad will call and say "hey Alan your apples are looking really good. I think you might outdo your brother's this year."

Violence

2004-08-16T12:20:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at a corner hamburger stand last weekend, people were driving by looking at me, the stand the corner. I didn't mind, after all I was tucked into a giant greasy cheeseburger and a root beer float and most of them are probably on the No carb diet. So I'm smiling talking chewing I was there with someone close to me and we were just enjoying the afternoon. I had been sick all weekend and for the first time made it out of the house. Sometimes the fastest way to recover is junk food and fresh air.
There was a little kid out in front of the stand selling some kind of raffle tickets to al the families that came up, he never approached me or I probably would have bought some. I intimidate children sometimes, while the rest of the time they can't seem to get enough of me. 3 teen boys in a car pulled up at the light, and perhaps to trumpet their rebellious nature one of them yelled "Fuck you!" Instantly followed a murmur of disapproval and shock from the young parents and grandparents. Hot dog stands on Sunday afternoon tend to draw a big after church crowd. It didn't bother me though I was a punk rocker way back before I had to work for a living and "Fuck You" was my flag and mantra for years of repressed adolescence. I looked up at the boys who were looking for a reaction and gave them my best shark/ to me Soprano grin, evil glee lit up my face. It scared the person I was sharing lunch with, she said I looked like I was going to bite someone.
It seemed to upset the teens though. "yo dude, fuck you!" one yelled at me flipping me off. I had tread on their masculinity a little and they tried to save face.
"We'll fuck you up" yelled the one in the back leaning forward to poke his head out the window over his friends shoulder.
I don't pose or strut anymore, most of the time, so I just waved them over staring down the passenger. The guy in back maybe was just a real tough guy, or a nut, but probably he figured his friend in the front seat would not want to get out of the car to let him come out from behind the seat. So he goes off almost hysterically trying to tear his way out of the car to get me. My for lunch was getting a little nervous. She would probably slap them each across the heads pretty good herself, but she hates to think of me fighting. She's got an overdeveloped fear of Police and is petrified of having to deal with them. I thought this was getting pretty funny, but these guys were starting to tread on my masculinity a little now, there was quite a crowd there, and whether or not I encouraged this behavior I began to feel the need to stop it, end this whole scene. I winked at my lunch partner who, sighed "can't you just ignore them?" "Sometimes you can." I said, I got up and walked over to the car. My legs got that springy feeling growing up I always thought was fear, until I learned in karate it was just adrenaline rush. My body keying up for the conflict. I grabbed the passenger door and opened it up, the guy in back was still going off, but the kid in the passenger seat looked like he was ready to piss himself. I probably outweighed him x2 and he turned stark white looking up at me. I just waved him out of the car, "no problem man" I said probably sounding really old, "I just want you to let your friend out." He looked to the driver who was staring at the light willing it to change, just his luck to get stuck at this light onto a highway. The passenger in back just kept saying "Fuck it, let me out, come-on pussy I'll kick your ass..blah blah blah blah"
"I'm waiting on you, why don't you quit swearing for the kids and step out." I could feel my fists clenching but I didn't take my eyes off him. I was mad now, I was almost forced to call him out of there because he just wouldn't come out. I hate when people start a fight or try to then back out before we actually fight. Once I'm that keyed up it's too hard to let go.
Finally the front passenger steps out and quick steps it around behind the car, and back seat boy comes boiling out, only now he's carrying a stick or a tire iron and he's trying to menace me with it. First rule of violent situations, control the situation by always initiating the violence, never wait. As he waved that stick like a fly swatter I stepped forward and gave him a quick punch right to the stomach. I didn't even worry about the stick, he never had time to even pull it back, and unless he was some kind of Martial arts master he couldn't put any force behind it from that far away.
He kind-of folded over a little and I stepped back, trying to make it plain to his friends I wasn't interested in just beating on him, I figured problem solved. Obviously the guy behind the car thought so to because he stepped up grabbed his friend and pushed him back into the car. He turned to me a little white faced and said "I'm sorry dude" and sat back down not taking his eyes off me. I forced a smile, "you guys have fun." and turned away. They tore out behind me squealing their tires, probably more out of hurry than for show. I walked back to my table rolled my shoulders once or twice and sat down, my legs turned to limp rubber as the need for adrenaline passed.
The friend I was with tried to look stern, but ended up giggling, she must have been scared. I felt bad about that but some times like I said you can't ignore things like that. I might have saved those biys from someone worse, then again they might get a gun for the next time they're called out like that. Those are just modern day rules, probably why cowboys started carrying guns..
A little old lady with two 10ish year old boys was at the table behind me. They were looking at me like I was a space monster, she smiled and said "Thank you, if the police come I'll let them know he threatened you with that metal thing." and she patted my arm..
It made me feel bad for all the parents I've cursed out in front of their kids. Wondering how many of them were too scared of going to jail for punching a minor, when I thought they were too scared of me.
The police never did show up, I figure those boys were just as timid about explaining their action to the police or their parents. I gave my name and number to the guy at the counter to give to the police if they showed up later. He asked why, and I told him "It's a small town, I don't want people pointing at me saying that guy beats up kids. If they want me I'm more than willing to give my side of the story." I'm pretty sure the judge would side with me anyway. I would hope so anyway.

Cutting School

2004-08-11T13:28:00.000-07:00

I once cut freshman year of high school, not the first time I'd ever skipped school but definitely memorable. I took my bike out about 10 minutes after the bus to high school had left and rode down past the grade school to the little country store. I can't remember it's name, but we used to go there after grade school for bags of penny candy. I bought a bunch of junk like ho-ho's and coke and candy bars. I rode farther out into Shamong to where there were dense little parcels of forest between the corn fields. I snuck up someones driveway and pedalled as far as I could, I stashed my bike in a bramble thicket and spent the entire morning wandering around this little mossy clearing deep under some heavy trees that had a small creek running by.
Reading was my favorite hobby so I leaned against a tree and pulled one of the three books I had checked out of the library the previous day. I read all three that day, sci-fi fantasy novels that I don't recall the name or author. I was engrossed though and read and ate throughout the day. Finally when inactivity could be restrained no longer I packed up and got my bike out. In all my planning though I never thought to bring a clock, I didn't own a watch back then so when I pulled out on this little driveway I had no idea what time it was. Unfortunate for me a man was standing there just getting out of his truck, and he shouted "hey!" I'm no stranger to being caught doing wrong so I ducked my head and pedaled like mad, It was about a block over now out in the open when the man pulled out behind me dirt and stones flying everywhere as he roared after me. I pulled around the little shamong municipal building , circling it as he pulled into the parking lot then taking off back up the same road I had just been chased down. I flew back up his driveway, not looking back and could hear his tires crunch the gravel not too far behind me. I rode straight into the woods pulling straight through some of the thickets of brambles almost crying in fear and the man screamed out curses behind me. I jumped off my bike in the creek and pulled it after me up the creek under the low branches and tangle. I was sobbing for breath and the man was shouting terrible things he'd do to me before the police got there. I was terrified and just kept charging through. I was bleeding and crying and my clothes were ripped by the time I made it out the other side of that little forest. I headed straight for home and luckily it was after 3 so I was almost home free. I told my mom I was in another fight at school, which she believed looking at me, but she was a little worried I might have been fighting girls since I was so ripped up. I told her we were just out back fighting in the woods behind school and she never said another word about it. Last year (15years later) While visiting my brother in NJ I drove past that same spot. The municipal building was still there, but the little patch of woods was a gas station and a Laundromat.

2004-08-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

Let me taste you," She said as she tugged at my belt. Her choice of words surprised me more than the action. We had been kissing and groping for several hours fully clothed. I was almost sore from pressing against the underside of my zipper. Sensitive and tickly from all the times she had traced the shape through the denim.
I couldn't say no to her, she was sliding off the couch onto her knees pushing my legs apart with her body. She tugged my best this way and that, I was no longer watching, my eyes already drawn to her shoulders and the hair which tumbled, dance and played around them. She unfastened my zipper and pulled me out. Using first one hand and the other she arranged my pants and underwear out of the way, gently letting her hands touch, rub.
"Ahh!" she sounded so excited as she looked down and saw my tip glistening with moisture. Her whole face lit up in a beautiful smile before she lowered her mouth. Closing her eyes and just tasting gently with her tongue. She surrounded me with all her fingertips lightly touching and moved them all around making me twitch and jump. I tried to hold out but I'm so weak when she's in control. I moved my hips a little and panted, begged her with my eyes to take me fully. The thought of her hot wetness over the full length beckoned me and her light insistent touch was driving me mad. She teased with her eyes and her smile, looking up at me daring me to complain or ask for more. She knows I will not, I always let the torture go on until she is too tired. Maybe tonight is the night she will outlast me, make me cave in and beg.
She nibbles and pulls gently with her teeth at different parts of me. This slows the rising tide the sharp little pains pulling me back from too far, causing more to leak from my tip. She swirls her tongue like a paintbrush not letting a drop roll of without her touch rolling it around. She takes just the end holds it firmly against my weak thrust, not letting me get the sensitive underside into her mouth. She begins to suck hard against me, pulling me against her teeth, and it hurts. It hurts so bad I almost grab her to pull her off before I can stop myself but I do. She pulls harder and harder with her mouth. I have tears in my eyes and she slaps lightly at my balls, sharp pains like cramps roll through my lower stomach, her eyes seem like ice now and I wonder if she will stop this time before I bleed, Her taps turn harder and I'm on the edge of making her stop when suddenly there is a great surge through me, from deep inside. My scrotum pulls tight and I must have screamed, my back arched and I exploded with a sharp jagged feeling. No pleasure like I expect with such release, I am pumping out lava. Burning through the passages of my bruised cock. She takes it all without stopping her painful work. She looks up at me in surprise for just a second then her eyes narrow and she pulls hard once more with her mouth. I slump back onto the sofa as she releases me, but I'm not softening at all. My heart is pounding like mad as she leans forward and likes a wide tongue across my stomach leaving a trail of red and cream. I hope that it's not from me but I don't check. She pushes her self up, staring at the blood on me in fascination and fumblingly she pulls off her jeans and panties kicking them behind her. She jerks my pants down, I'm still in shock and can't move. I'm still throbbing and pulsing and I think I'm getting harder the tip is all dark and swollen, larger than it's ever been. She straddles me and feverishly pushes herself onto me, bucking herself wildly for a few seconds before I start to move. She orgasms almost instantly it seems bouncing herself aross my legs, shivering and I can feel her moisture start to leak out and over my lap and legs. I start to get excited again and as I feel the pressure building it hurts so bad I groan "oh god that hurts"
She moans at my words thrusting onto me harder, pulling me into her. We flipped over and she stretches out grabbing above her head, digging her hand under the pillows to grab the frame of the bed.
She looks at me her face flushed sweat dampening the curls on the sides of her forehead and she curses at me, drives me with her words. "Don't you fucking stop, don't fucking stop. Harder! Oh damn harder! You don't fucking stop Oh damn!" She jerks her hips against me as I thrust into her and I can feel another orgasm rising. My cock swells as I slam into her trying to force the pain I'm feeling into action. My body is so excited the sharp pains throbbing in me spur me on each an almost electric shocks, She can feel the throbbing her eyes widen in surprise and pleasure as she topples over the edge into another orgasm her legs clamping around my hips as her back arches and her head and neck twitch and her hands convulse on the arm of the sofa. I thrust one more time feeling like I'm going to split open from the pressure. My stomach muscles actually ripple as I cum shooting what feels like and endless stream deep inside her, she grunts with every spurt, every little jerk of my hips. Finally I still and droop my head, out of breath and dripping sweat. She shudders lightly a half smile on her lips as she coasts on the gentling waves of her orgasm.
I'm finally getting soft and I can feel myself slipping from inside her where her muscles seemed clamped so much tighter than ever before, setting off a fresh shudder in us both at the sensitivity. I lean forward my head against her thigh looking up at her. She smiles at me, her lovers smile, a little wry a little unrepentant and reaches down to touch my hair. I shake my head gently, marveling at the violence such a loving face is capable of. Giving myself a shiver as I think about what just happened. I close my eyes just enjoying the gentle touch of her fingertips tracing pathways through my hair.

Deer Slaying

2004-08-09T10:20:00.000-07:00

It was late November, and I was up a tree, literally. I was tucked fairly snugly into a camouflage sleeping bag pulled tight up to my shoulders.. The the safety harness had chafed my nipples, probably from the cold, enough that I didn't want to move anymore than I had to. I had some of those air activated toe warmers tucked into my boots and it felt like I was standing in a puddle, damn I sweat a lot. I had my bow on the rest in front of me my one gloved hand outside the bag on the grip. I keep my other hand ungloved so I don't have to worry about setting off the string release at the wrong time. I had been up there for about two hours and had passed the novelty of sitting in the quiet woods by myself, into the wanting to fidget against the boredom stage back to enjoying the sound of the wind and the branches rattling together. All the parts of me that were cold were numb but not painful like my lips and my nose. My eyelids were so cold it was uncomfortable to blink and I indulged in imagining how I would get out of this tree and back to the house if my eyes froze shut. A whisper and a crunch and a cautious doe stepped into the clearing beneath me coming out from under my right foot. I tried really hard to keep my breathing from changing and stared at the kill spot noticing the head and it's direction only peripherally not wanting to make eye contact. She walked out in front of me and started tugging at a thin sapling. I waited wanting a nice buck or a larger Doe to follow in but after a few minutes there was still nothing. I pulled my shooting hand out of the bag and looped the string release around the bowstring. I drew and lowered the arrow at the same time, either my breath or a creak of the bow started the doe but she didn't run, she just froze ears up tail quivering. I felt pretty solid on target and was ready to make the shot when she took a step almost straight to the right with her foreleg turning her ass straight at me. My shot felt ruined but I was hoping she'd take another step give me that good quarter again. My heart was pounding and I could feel the shakes starting in my arm. I'm usually steadier but a few hours of cold had me feeling weak. I'm not sure if my eyes were playing with me or just a case of buck fever but there ahead of the doe in the brush I saw another deer standing behind a bush. Well my arm was really doing a fine quiver now and I was considering taking a shot through the spine when she turned again and I took the shot the moment I felt It was in sight. It was a clean hit she barely made it 10 yards before she fell. I never noticed if another deer had been there, didn't notice anything running away. I pulled my shooting hand inside my bag and wedged it between my legs for warmth. I leaned my head forward against my bow and started shivering uncontrollably as the adrenaline jerked my whole body around. I called my cousin on the shortwave about 10-20 minutes later. I giggled a little, I'm sure it bothered him. Still I thought better than throwing up or wetting my pants, which still seemed like a possibility then climbed down out the tree, my legs barely able to hold me..