Quandary 2

Darkness. There was no difference in what I saw with my eyes open or closed. I opted to keep them closed because I was in excruciating pain. I felt blood trickle down from my temple through my greasy hair and down to the ground from my nose. Immediately above me, a man with putrid breath was breathing erratically, searching for his words. A moment of silence, then he spoke. “I know they call you Vinnie.” He began to feel around for my pockets and quickly found my wallet and removed it. “Now I have all of your information, just in case. With this I can find everybody in your family, all of your friends, and even get access to your financial records if necessary.” At this point I didn’t think there was any point in mentioning that none of my credit cards would ever work and there was no driver’s license in the leather tri-fold.

“I work with an organization that has beef with your boss. Yeah, I know King is in there. Right now there are two choices you can make. You can listen to what I have to say, leave, and follow my instructions and live and maybe work for us one day. Or, you can listen to what I have to say, leave and go tell King what happened tonight, and I promise you and he and your families will be dead in less than a day.” This was the second time in twenty minutes that somebody had threatened me and my family with murder. I wasn’t really scared for myself, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to my family because of the stupid life I had chosen, so I listened.

“I’m sorry I had to hit you, it was the only way I know how to make sure somebody really pays attention. And now that I have your attention, I need you to listen carefully.” In the distance I could hear the escalating noise of a vehicle driving toward the alley. It seemed like days since I had seen light, and now it was fast approaching from the side street. The vehicle turned in and I was momentarily relieved and hoped that the man would run in fear and I would be able to escape into the darkness. It became clear that this car was part of the plan. “You and I are going to get up and get in the car. When we get in, you are going to take off all of your clothes so we know you don’t have any weapons. Capiche?”  I nodded. I was really nervous now, I had over $10,000 in drugs on me that I still owed for and I knew they would find it.

The car drew near and I opened my eyes again to see what was going on with the added light. I caught just a glimpse of what appeared to be a robot before the headlights went out. Night vision. The guy was wearing fucking night vision goggles! God damn tweakers.  It made sense now that he was able to see me so well to follow and incapacitate me. These guys were really organized.

He shoved me toward the car and the back door opened up and I was forced in. I hadn’t even hit the seat before I had a 9mm shoved in my face. On the other end of the gun was a shirtless, fat, bald, skin-head looking man with a giant swastika on his chest. In my head I named him Dumpy. Dumpy was a very angry man. He yelled, “Take yer fuckin’ clothes off, man!” Goggles got in the passenger seat and the car pulled away. Slowly I began fiddling with the buttons on my shirt. The meth was in a giant Ziploc bag against my back in my waistband. Dumpy said, “Hurry up!” I knew there was no point in delaying, so I undressed as quickly as I could. I didn’t even try to hide the bag; I knew that would just agitate the situation. I threw the bag at Dumpy and said, “There you fuckin’ go. That just sealed my fate.” Goggles turned around and said, “That’s not even close to what we want.” The car stopped in another alley a few blocks away and I was ordered out at gunpoint. Quickly my shirt was used to tie my hands behind my back and I was thrown into the trunk. The lid slammed shut and I was alone in the dark again. For only a moment, there was complete silence and I actually felt safe.

There was a small amount of light coming from the running lights so I could see my surroundings. Right in front of me were three shovels.

To be continued…

Quandary Part 1

It was after midnight but the place was lit up like a baseball stadium. I had planned for this unwelcome deterrent by paying an employee to steal a janitor uniform from an unsecured locker inside the bus station days earlier. I had purposely not shaved or showered that day to look as unkempt and in the role as possible. This was going to be a quick score but the getaway would be dangerous. We were going to steal $100,000 from my drug dealers boss.

The plan started forming weeks earlier when I went to the flop house to pick up my usual supply from my main guy. I had put in a lot of low level work, and had built up a reputation with him over the past year because I was always on time, always had what I owed, or communicated with him if anything wasn't right. I was going to leave that house with a quarter pound, or 112 grams of meth. By itself, it's possible to pick up 10 years Federally if I were caught with it. Have that quantity near a pistol or a sizeable amount of cash, 20 years no problem.

This particular night my guys boss was there making his weekly delivery. I knew him by his nickname but we had never been formally introduced. King was a giant Native man that had been in and out of prison and in the game his whole life. He stood to introduce himself and towered over me by what seemed like a foot. Covered in Native tribal tattoos from head to toe, he looked deep into my eyes. Was he reading me? I struggled to maintain myself but I was able to keep my cool. He was a very intimidating man, but he said he had heard good things about me and wanted to show me something.

He pointed to a gym bag on the floor and motioned for me to get it for him. I obliged, half expecting a gun in my face when I turned around, but he just took it and set it on the couch. He unzipped it and I saw what looked like emerald city inside. Two kilos of meth, almost five pounds, was just sitting there. I wasn't nervous or afraid even knowing if the cops came through the door right now, all of our lives would be completed from behind bars. He said, “Now you have access to anything you will ever need. You’ve proved yourself time and time again, and you have earned this opportunity.” He went on with the standard talk about me being brutally murdered if I ever fucked him over or ratted him out to the cops. He said he knew a lot of my friends, and could easily have people find my family if I were ever to go astray and spend his money on my desires. We locked eyes again and I nodded, and we shook hands.

I left the house with a pound of methamphetamine. I slinked out the front door and around to the unlit back alley which I would take down the block to my car which I parked far away from the actual meeting location as to not arouse suspicion from police with traffic coming and going from the stash house.

It was so dark it was nearly impossible to tell in which direction I was walking. Aside from the usual paranoia of being up for too many days, I was sure I was being followed. Somebody pacing me. Maybe it was just my echo bouncing off of the bushes aroun-- That’s when I felt a blinding pain on my right temple. I tried to run but I was already crumpled in a heap on the cement. I knew who and where I was, and I knew what I had. My first and only thought was that I was getting robbed but I couldn’t even fight back because my arms and legs were limp. It was quiet, but I could hear somebody or something pacing around me. Whatever it was it was breathing excitedly, like a hyena circling an injured gazelle. And then he said, “Listen very carefully, and do everything I say or I will gut you right here.” I felt cold steel against my stomach. I was fucked.

To be continued.

Good Boy

I’ve written a number of posts that involve my dog, Willie. Here is one of my posts on him. He’s been in my life sporadically over the past six months, and even less the two previous years. The last time I actually had him in my possession was December 20^th, 2013, the night I was arrested for my meth charge. My friend Seth had been taking care of him since shortly after that night and he brought him to the cities a while back to stay at my aunt’s house until I moved out of my roommate’s (mom’s) place. I have since made that move, and although this is not yet a permanent situation, Willie is here at home with me and it feels great.

We’re going down to Fountain tomorrow to visit friends and have a massive feast at Seth’s family campground, a place where I’ve possibly never breathed a sober breath. It’s not really a test for me, I know I won’t drink because that would be the dumbest thing I could possibly do. It’s a chance for me to see people that I left behind in the wake of my last meth bender, and a chance to show off how cool I am still in recovery. There won’t be any alcohol around at all, in fact, because even that would be a violation of my parole. My friends understand the implications and will respect the alcohol ban for the day.

Willie has been through a lot in his life. He’s seen me at my best and my worst, and has loved me without judgement. He has seen me do things I’m certainly not proud of, and I’m grateful he didn’t fully comprehend what was going on at the time.

He was kennel trained as a young puppy, and it worked really well after a trial period. One day in particular, I put him in his cage and left for work. I didn’t know it, but that would be a 12-hour day at the Kemps ice cream plant. When I arrived at home shortly after 1am, I saw that he was standing up in his kennel which was normally because he was happy to see me and ready to go potty. This time it was different. I don’t know for how long he had been standing, but I could see that it was because the one-inch tall plastic liner that was the bottom of the kennel was filled with liquid feces and urine and he didn’t want to lay down in it. Apparently he had been sick or eaten something that didn’t agree with him and he had nowhere to go. I felt so bad for him, and I thought I was a bad owner for letting it happen. He paid me back by running out of his little home and across the carpet into my room to make another poop on my floor. I wasn’t mad, and I was actually relieved that he still had energy. I cleaned it all up and gave him a bath, and all was good from then on.

Right now he’s passed out in the middle of the living room and I really want to go cuddle him up. I will when I’m done with this post.

He’s old, and that makes me happy because even though he was with me for some rough times, he’s always been shown love by me, and all those who have taken the responsibility to take care of him over the years while I was off doing stupid things. We never know how long we or anything will last in this life but I hope that he has a few years left to make people around him happy. I live in a house with two other guys and I hope they’re willing to let him move in with me so I can make up for the time we were separated by my mistakes. And even if that can’t be the case, I know wherever he is, he will be happy, loved, and such a good boy. I love you Willie.