Let the fight begin.
DA: "Are you sure the meeting didn't take place a week earlier?"
Trashman: "I'm positive."
Detective 1: "It needs to happen a week earlier."
Trashman: "What do you mean it needs to happen? It already happened."
Detective 2: "What he means is are you really sure it, didn't happen a week earlier?"
The pressure to please was starting to mount.
Trashman: "I guess it could have happened sooner?"
DA: "Good, put it in his statement it happened a week before Easter."
Trashman: "WAIT. It happened two days before Easter. I'm not signing anything that says different."
DA: "We have very reliable witnesses that saw the thugs kill PRK. It must be because WBG hired them to do it."
Trashman: "I don't care if The Pope himself saw it. They didn't do it because WBG paid them to. I would love to tell you he did, but he didn't."
Detective 1: "Then why did they do it?"
Trashman: "Once again you're asking the wrong mother fucker. Maybe it was a dope deal. I used to get my coke from Thug 1."
DA: "You know, we're going to have to rethink our deal?"
Trashman: "You rethink anything you want. I have signed papers and your not going to get me to lie about the date."
Detective 1: "Our other witness says it happened a week before Easter."
Trashman: "JB is an idiot. He'll tell you anything you want to hear, especially if he thinks you're going to put him in jail."
Detective 1: "What makes you think it's JB?"
Trashman: "Well let's see. You're trying to build a case against The Thugs, WBG, and possibly The Saint. You gave up on the case against me because you thought my testimony would help. Oh yeah and the fact JB was the only other person around."
Detective 2: "You sure you don't want a job?"
Trashman: "Nah. I don't like cops. Listen guys, I'm sure The Thugs killed PRK. I'm sure it happened when you said it did. I'm also sure WBG didn't pay them to do it. I know for a fact The Saint had nothing to do with any of this. I'm sure when you finally arrest The Thugs and it all goes to trial their lawyer is going to point out the fact they couldn't have killed him because they didn't know he was dead. Why would they accept money to beat his ass if they knew he was dead. You see gentlemen Thug 1 is smart. Scary smart and he got paid $1000.00 dollars from WBG to fuck up a guy that was already dead. He built himself one hell of an alibi."
I pushed my chair back and stood up.
DA: "Where are you going?"
Trashman: "I'm done here."
DA: "We might have some more questions."
Trashman: "You know where to find me."
DA: "Don't talk to anybody about this investigation."
Trashman: "My lips are sealed."
Detective 1: " Hey one more thing...."
Trashman: "Yeah, I know don't leave town."
The first place I went was to The Saints shop. It was next door to the sausage factory. When I got out of my truck I looked across the highway at the 15 story building. I couldn't help but wonder what offices were in there. I walked into the shop and The Saint was sitting at his desk smiling at me. I sat down across from him not too happy.
The Saint: "Where the hell have you been? I haven't seen you in a week."
Trashman: "We've got trouble."
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Life On The Line Part 5
I sat back and surveyed my work. I was satisfied that I could make these Neanderthals understand.
Trashman: "First things, second. I don't work for WBG. I did at one time but then I became his partner. The Saint was never his partner just a part time employee and friend of sorts."
DA: "Then why did he pay for everything on his credit cards?"
Trashman: "That's how he paid us when he lost money to us, usually at black jack. I'm still surprised you were able to get his credit card information. You must have been trying to build a Rico case against us."
Detective 1: "Like you would know anything about a Rico case."
Trashman: "I know you weren't able to build one, that's why you brought me in as a witness on a murder case."
Detective 2: "You want a job when we're through with this crap?"
Trashman (laughing): "Nope. I'm going back into the escort business."
DA: "Can we get back to the case?"
Trashman: "I wasn't muscle for them. I did run off some collectors but that's the extent of it. I wish I had it to do all over again. WBG would be in a wheelchair."
DA: "Why did you separate from him?"
Trashman: "He doesn't know how to treat the girls. They may be pros but they're not slaves. He tried to force them to work and when I stood up for them it wasn't pretty. So we went different directions."
DA: "Weren't you worried about repercussions?"
Trashman: "No, but he was. He went so far as to try and hire some kind of security."
DA: "Is that when he hired the thugs?"
Trashman: "They had already done some work for him. When we went our separate ways, they were in the business competing with him."
DA: "How many agencies are there?"
Trashman: "About 20 just in this area."
Detective 1: "We want to know who is running them."
Trashman: "Ask somebody else."
DA: "Tell us what you know about the thugs."
Trashman: "Thug 1 is smart. Scary smart. Thug 2 is his cousin. He's not so smart but he's dangerous, and I mean really fucking dangerous."
DA: "Do they accept a lot of contracts?"
Trashman: "I don't know if they ever accepted any contract. They didn't get a contract for PRK from WBG."
DA: "Then why did they kill him?"
Trashman: "You're asking the wrong mother fucker. They came to WBG and told him JB was trying to find someone to fuck him up and PRK accepted the contract."
Detective 2: "So WBG took out a contract in retaliation?"
Trashman: "WBG only paid the thugs to beat on PRK a little just like they did to JB."
DA: "Why don't you tell us what happened in the boxing club?"
Trashman: "This has nothing to do with WBG being married to JB's ex. Except maybe in the fact JB wanted her back. The thugs came to WBG and told him JB wanted him dead. WBG paid the thugs to rough up JB a little where we could watch. They did a pretty good number on him, in fact he pissed himself. After they were done WBG gave then another grand to find PRK and do the same thing to him."
DA: "Was The Saint there?"
Trashman: "No, he missed it all because he had to go get a haircut because he was going to his mothers for Easter."
Detective 1: "That gave him a whole week."
Trashman: "No, it gave him a whole day. This happened on Friday and Easter was on Sunday."
Detective 2: "You sure this didn't happen a week before Easter?"
Trashman: "Positive. Why?"
DA: "PRK was shot Saturday a week before Easter."
Finally the last piece of the puzzle. Now I knew what was going on. I was free and clear. I was going to walk out of there with a clear conscience. Just a little more to tell the clowns and I would be on my way. The only thing I would have to worry about was The Thugs.
Trashman: "First things, second. I don't work for WBG. I did at one time but then I became his partner. The Saint was never his partner just a part time employee and friend of sorts."
DA: "Then why did he pay for everything on his credit cards?"
Trashman: "That's how he paid us when he lost money to us, usually at black jack. I'm still surprised you were able to get his credit card information. You must have been trying to build a Rico case against us."
Detective 1: "Like you would know anything about a Rico case."
Trashman: "I know you weren't able to build one, that's why you brought me in as a witness on a murder case."
Detective 2: "You want a job when we're through with this crap?"
Trashman (laughing): "Nope. I'm going back into the escort business."
DA: "Can we get back to the case?"
Trashman: "I wasn't muscle for them. I did run off some collectors but that's the extent of it. I wish I had it to do all over again. WBG would be in a wheelchair."
DA: "Why did you separate from him?"
Trashman: "He doesn't know how to treat the girls. They may be pros but they're not slaves. He tried to force them to work and when I stood up for them it wasn't pretty. So we went different directions."
DA: "Weren't you worried about repercussions?"
Trashman: "No, but he was. He went so far as to try and hire some kind of security."
DA: "Is that when he hired the thugs?"
Trashman: "They had already done some work for him. When we went our separate ways, they were in the business competing with him."
DA: "How many agencies are there?"
Trashman: "About 20 just in this area."
Detective 1: "We want to know who is running them."
Trashman: "Ask somebody else."
DA: "Tell us what you know about the thugs."
Trashman: "Thug 1 is smart. Scary smart. Thug 2 is his cousin. He's not so smart but he's dangerous, and I mean really fucking dangerous."
DA: "Do they accept a lot of contracts?"
Trashman: "I don't know if they ever accepted any contract. They didn't get a contract for PRK from WBG."
DA: "Then why did they kill him?"
Trashman: "You're asking the wrong mother fucker. They came to WBG and told him JB was trying to find someone to fuck him up and PRK accepted the contract."
Detective 2: "So WBG took out a contract in retaliation?"
Trashman: "WBG only paid the thugs to beat on PRK a little just like they did to JB."
DA: "Why don't you tell us what happened in the boxing club?"
Trashman: "This has nothing to do with WBG being married to JB's ex. Except maybe in the fact JB wanted her back. The thugs came to WBG and told him JB wanted him dead. WBG paid the thugs to rough up JB a little where we could watch. They did a pretty good number on him, in fact he pissed himself. After they were done WBG gave then another grand to find PRK and do the same thing to him."
DA: "Was The Saint there?"
Trashman: "No, he missed it all because he had to go get a haircut because he was going to his mothers for Easter."
Detective 1: "That gave him a whole week."
Trashman: "No, it gave him a whole day. This happened on Friday and Easter was on Sunday."
Detective 2: "You sure this didn't happen a week before Easter?"
Trashman: "Positive. Why?"
DA: "PRK was shot Saturday a week before Easter."
Finally the last piece of the puzzle. Now I knew what was going on. I was free and clear. I was going to walk out of there with a clear conscience. Just a little more to tell the clowns and I would be on my way. The only thing I would have to worry about was The Thugs.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Life On The Line Part 4
8:00 am Monday morning and I'm sitting outside the DA's office waiting for him. He finally showed up with the two geniuses known as Detective 1 and Detective 2, in close tow. I was finally sober and as clear headed as I would ever be in my life.
DA: "Come in."
I stood up and smiled at Detective 1 and followed the DA into his office. We all sat down and the DA laid all the pictures out again.
DA: "Here's what we know. We know The Saint and WBG are partners. We know you work for them as muscle. We know JB used to work for them until WBG paid the thugs to rough him up. We know WBG paid the thugs to kill PRK. You can tell us the rest."
Trashman: "You don't know much."
DA: "Why don't you fill us in?"
Trashman: "Why don't you produce some papers first?"
Detective 2 (laughing): "I told you he wasn't as stupid as he looks."
Trashman (laughing and pointing at Detective 1): "Don't you mean as stupid as he looks?"
Detective 1: "What's your issue with me?"
Trashman: "What's your issue with me?"
Detective 1: "I know a scumbag when I see one."
Trashman: "Well if it wasn't for scumbags like me, idiots like you couldn't solve a crime much less a crossword puzzle."
Detective 2 (laughing): "He's got you there. Let's sign these papers."
I read and re-read the papers, just to make sure they weren't trying anything sneaky. Not that I don't trust cops or anything like that. It's just that I don't trust cops (except for one) and he wasn't sitting there with me. We all had our turn signing the documents saying I wouldn't be prosecuted in turn for my testimony.
Trashman: "You kids ready for school?"
DA: "Just tell us what you know."
Trashman: "First, why did WBG pay the thugs to rough up JB?"
DA: "Because he was WBG's wife's ex husband."
Trashman: "Why did WBG pay the thugs to kill PRK?"
DA: "We don't know."
Trashman: "Why do you think The Saint and WBG are partners?"
DA: "The Saint pays all of WBG's bills on his credit card including all six of the airline tickets to Vegas. Yours included."
Trashman: "Why do you think I work as muscle for them?"
Detective 1: "Look at the size of you, and we know you scared off some collectors trying to get gambling debts from WBG."
I stopped and looked at the pictures on the table. I reached down and moved them around a little bit so it would be easier to explain to these "mental giants" just where they were wrong. Way wrong.
DA: "Come in."
I stood up and smiled at Detective 1 and followed the DA into his office. We all sat down and the DA laid all the pictures out again.
DA: "Here's what we know. We know The Saint and WBG are partners. We know you work for them as muscle. We know JB used to work for them until WBG paid the thugs to rough him up. We know WBG paid the thugs to kill PRK. You can tell us the rest."
Trashman: "You don't know much."
DA: "Why don't you fill us in?"
Trashman: "Why don't you produce some papers first?"
Detective 2 (laughing): "I told you he wasn't as stupid as he looks."
Trashman (laughing and pointing at Detective 1): "Don't you mean as stupid as he looks?"
Detective 1: "What's your issue with me?"
Trashman: "What's your issue with me?"
Detective 1: "I know a scumbag when I see one."
Trashman: "Well if it wasn't for scumbags like me, idiots like you couldn't solve a crime much less a crossword puzzle."
Detective 2 (laughing): "He's got you there. Let's sign these papers."
I read and re-read the papers, just to make sure they weren't trying anything sneaky. Not that I don't trust cops or anything like that. It's just that I don't trust cops (except for one) and he wasn't sitting there with me. We all had our turn signing the documents saying I wouldn't be prosecuted in turn for my testimony.
Trashman: "You kids ready for school?"
DA: "Just tell us what you know."
Trashman: "First, why did WBG pay the thugs to rough up JB?"
DA: "Because he was WBG's wife's ex husband."
Trashman: "Why did WBG pay the thugs to kill PRK?"
DA: "We don't know."
Trashman: "Why do you think The Saint and WBG are partners?"
DA: "The Saint pays all of WBG's bills on his credit card including all six of the airline tickets to Vegas. Yours included."
Trashman: "Why do you think I work as muscle for them?"
Detective 1: "Look at the size of you, and we know you scared off some collectors trying to get gambling debts from WBG."
I stopped and looked at the pictures on the table. I reached down and moved them around a little bit so it would be easier to explain to these "mental giants" just where they were wrong. Way wrong.
Life On The Line Part 3
The DA was staring at me and I was staring at Detective 1 who was staring at the DA. The only thing that was keeping me from breaking out in a sweat was the fact that I was completely dehydrated from the massive amounts of coke in my body. I had built up a pretty good tolerance for the white powder and I was working on the tail end of my second eight ball when the cops had grabbed me. After what seemed like an eternity the DA finally spoke.
DA: "Tell you what I'm going to do."
Trashman: "What's that?"
DA: "I'm going to let you walk out of here. But I want you back in here at 9:00 am Monday morning."
Detective 1: "Are you kidding?"
DA: "No. He'll be back. Won't you?"
Trashman: "I'll be here bright and early Monday morning."
Detective 1: "There's no way you're letting him walk out of here."
Detective 2: "I think he'll come back."
Detective 1: "He's going to run. I see it in his eyes."
DA: "What you see in his eyes is a lot of coke. What I see in his eyes is he's telling the truth."
Trashman (pointing at the DA): "I'm with this guy."
Detective 2: "You know if you don't come back, we'll come looking for you. We already found you once."
Trashman: "Just one question. Where did you take those pictures from?"
Detective 2 (laughing): "We can't tell you that."
Trashman: "OK. I'll see you Monday morning."
Detective 1: "If you're one minute late I'm going to arrest you."
Trashman: "I'll be here before you are."
DA: "Leave before I change my mind."
I stood up and smiled at Detective 1 and walked out of the office. As I walked down the hall to the elevator I had a slight spring in my step. I just got pulled downtown on a murder investigation and I was walking out. I walked like I was on top of the world. Ten feet tall, bullet proof and invisible.
When I got out to the street and made it back to my truck, it took everything I had to stop the shaking in my hands so I could unlock the door. I sat in my truck for a good half hour with my eyes closed, shaking like a leaf, and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Eventually I started the truck and drove back to the motel.
I got back to my room and dug out the eight ball plus that I had left. I continued my little coke party except now it wasn't much fun. My brain was going 200 mph and the paranoia was back. Except this wasn't ordinary paranoia. No this was the mack daddy of paranoia. This was the kind where you know everybody and I mean everyfuckinbody including God, Jesus, and Satan are all gunning for my ass kind of paranoia.
I started the second half of my coke party late Friday night. I ran out of blow by Saturday afternoon. I crashed until late Sunday evening. Then I went home. By this time I did plenty of thinking. I knew who the snitch was. I was going to the meeting with the cops, I was going to play nice with the good officers, find out what I could and put the rest of the puzzle together. Then I was going to call The Saint. He was the only one I could trust.
DA: "Tell you what I'm going to do."
Trashman: "What's that?"
DA: "I'm going to let you walk out of here. But I want you back in here at 9:00 am Monday morning."
Detective 1: "Are you kidding?"
DA: "No. He'll be back. Won't you?"
Trashman: "I'll be here bright and early Monday morning."
Detective 1: "There's no way you're letting him walk out of here."
Detective 2: "I think he'll come back."
Detective 1: "He's going to run. I see it in his eyes."
DA: "What you see in his eyes is a lot of coke. What I see in his eyes is he's telling the truth."
Trashman (pointing at the DA): "I'm with this guy."
Detective 2: "You know if you don't come back, we'll come looking for you. We already found you once."
Trashman: "Just one question. Where did you take those pictures from?"
Detective 2 (laughing): "We can't tell you that."
Trashman: "OK. I'll see you Monday morning."
Detective 1: "If you're one minute late I'm going to arrest you."
Trashman: "I'll be here before you are."
DA: "Leave before I change my mind."
I stood up and smiled at Detective 1 and walked out of the office. As I walked down the hall to the elevator I had a slight spring in my step. I just got pulled downtown on a murder investigation and I was walking out. I walked like I was on top of the world. Ten feet tall, bullet proof and invisible.
When I got out to the street and made it back to my truck, it took everything I had to stop the shaking in my hands so I could unlock the door. I sat in my truck for a good half hour with my eyes closed, shaking like a leaf, and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Eventually I started the truck and drove back to the motel.
I got back to my room and dug out the eight ball plus that I had left. I continued my little coke party except now it wasn't much fun. My brain was going 200 mph and the paranoia was back. Except this wasn't ordinary paranoia. No this was the mack daddy of paranoia. This was the kind where you know everybody and I mean everyfuckinbody including God, Jesus, and Satan are all gunning for my ass kind of paranoia.
I started the second half of my coke party late Friday night. I ran out of blow by Saturday afternoon. I crashed until late Sunday evening. Then I went home. By this time I did plenty of thinking. I knew who the snitch was. I was going to the meeting with the cops, I was going to play nice with the good officers, find out what I could and put the rest of the puzzle together. Then I was going to call The Saint. He was the only one I could trust.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Life On The Line Part 2
I was smiling because I knew they didn't have shit on me. I was teflon, nothing could stick to me. I was smarter than them. I was coked up out of my fucking mind. If they were going to arrest me they would have already done it. Detective 2 had already let the cat out of the bag. They needed me. I didn't know what they were after but I wasn't going to make it easy.
The DA laid some pictures out one by one. These picture were all located in the parking lot of the sausage factory.
The first picture was JB (the kid the thugs had roughed up in front of me).
DA: "You know this guy?"
Trashman: "Nope."
The second picture was Wanna Be Gangster.
DA: "How about this guy?"
Trashman: "Nope."
The third and fourth pictures were Thug 1 and Thug 2.
DA: "Know either one of these guys?"
Trashman: "Nope."
The fifth picture was The Saint (one hell of a nice guy & a notorious gambler).
DA: "I know you know this guy."
Trashman: "Picture doesn't ring any bells."
The next picture was a mug shot. I really didn't know this guy. He was just some Puerto Rican kid.
DA: "You ever seen this guy?"
Trashman: "I can honestly say I never saw this guy."
The next picture was a group shot of me, WBG, Thug 1, Thug 2, and The Saint all standing together in the parking lot.
DA: "You sure you don't know any of these guys?"
Trashman: "I might know that one." I pointed at me in the group picture.
At this point I knew something really bad had gone wrong. I wasn't sure what it was yet but the hair on my neck was standing up and I was starting to get really nervous. I knew one thing, I wasn't going to let them see me sweat. All I could do was ride this out and see what happened.
DA: "I'm going to give you a chance to come clean and tell me what you know."
Trashman: "Come clean about what? You know I know those guys, except for the guy in the mugshot. How about you tell me what you know."
DA: "I know the guy in the mugshot is dead. I'm also sure you knew it too."
UhOh alarm bells are ringing off the hook. I had to step carefully here or my ass was going to be in the ringer.
Trashman: "I can tell you this. I don't know anything about anybody being dead. I don't know that guy. What's his fucking name?"
DA: "Puerto Rican Kid."
Now I know I'm truly fucked. It was the name of the guy WBG paid the thugs to rough up. Sounds like they might have gotten carried away. Being in the room when the deal was struck might make me an accessory.
DA: "I'm going to give you two scenerios. Your going to tell me which one is right. Otherwise I'm going to put you in jail."
Trashman: "Go ahead."
DA: "You were there when PRK was killed. Or you knew about it in advance."
Trashman: "Wrong on both accounts."
DA: "Didn't you hear me say I was going to put you in jail?"
Trashman: "Go ahead and put me in jail. Because if either one of those choices were right I would be going to jail anyway."
DA: "You're telling me you didn't know anything about PRK being killed."
Trashman: "Not a fucking thing."
DA: "I don't want to prosecute you. I'm after WBG and Thugs 1 & 2."
Trashman: "I'm not a snitch."
DA: "You don't have to snitch. I just need you to confirm some things. You tell us what you know and we won't prosecute you."
Trashman: "All I have to do is confirm something someone else already told you?"
DA: "That's right."
Trashman: "Put it in writing."
Detective 1: "We should read him his rights first."
Trashman: "You read me my rights and I'm shutting the fuck up. No way you're going to protect yourselves with my rights. No prosecution means no prosecution."
Detective 1: "Your rights protect you not us."
Trashman: "Fuuuuuck You. Go ahead and read them, then get me a fucking lawyer."
Detective 1: "You don't seem to understand...."
Trashman: "YOU don't seem to understand. I know how that shit works. Anything I tell you before my rights are read to me and before I sign a Miranda statment can not be held against me. Anything after that, well my ass is yours no matter what deal I make with the DA. You'll just go to another level to prosecute. Now, you want my help or are you locking me up?"
The DA laid some pictures out one by one. These picture were all located in the parking lot of the sausage factory.
The first picture was JB (the kid the thugs had roughed up in front of me).
DA: "You know this guy?"
Trashman: "Nope."
The second picture was Wanna Be Gangster.
DA: "How about this guy?"
Trashman: "Nope."
The third and fourth pictures were Thug 1 and Thug 2.
DA: "Know either one of these guys?"
Trashman: "Nope."
The fifth picture was The Saint (one hell of a nice guy & a notorious gambler).
DA: "I know you know this guy."
Trashman: "Picture doesn't ring any bells."
The next picture was a mug shot. I really didn't know this guy. He was just some Puerto Rican kid.
DA: "You ever seen this guy?"
Trashman: "I can honestly say I never saw this guy."
The next picture was a group shot of me, WBG, Thug 1, Thug 2, and The Saint all standing together in the parking lot.
DA: "You sure you don't know any of these guys?"
Trashman: "I might know that one." I pointed at me in the group picture.
At this point I knew something really bad had gone wrong. I wasn't sure what it was yet but the hair on my neck was standing up and I was starting to get really nervous. I knew one thing, I wasn't going to let them see me sweat. All I could do was ride this out and see what happened.
DA: "I'm going to give you a chance to come clean and tell me what you know."
Trashman: "Come clean about what? You know I know those guys, except for the guy in the mugshot. How about you tell me what you know."
DA: "I know the guy in the mugshot is dead. I'm also sure you knew it too."
UhOh alarm bells are ringing off the hook. I had to step carefully here or my ass was going to be in the ringer.
Trashman: "I can tell you this. I don't know anything about anybody being dead. I don't know that guy. What's his fucking name?"
DA: "Puerto Rican Kid."
Now I know I'm truly fucked. It was the name of the guy WBG paid the thugs to rough up. Sounds like they might have gotten carried away. Being in the room when the deal was struck might make me an accessory.
DA: "I'm going to give you two scenerios. Your going to tell me which one is right. Otherwise I'm going to put you in jail."
Trashman: "Go ahead."
DA: "You were there when PRK was killed. Or you knew about it in advance."
Trashman: "Wrong on both accounts."
DA: "Didn't you hear me say I was going to put you in jail?"
Trashman: "Go ahead and put me in jail. Because if either one of those choices were right I would be going to jail anyway."
DA: "You're telling me you didn't know anything about PRK being killed."
Trashman: "Not a fucking thing."
DA: "I don't want to prosecute you. I'm after WBG and Thugs 1 & 2."
Trashman: "I'm not a snitch."
DA: "You don't have to snitch. I just need you to confirm some things. You tell us what you know and we won't prosecute you."
Trashman: "All I have to do is confirm something someone else already told you?"
DA: "That's right."
Trashman: "Put it in writing."
Detective 1: "We should read him his rights first."
Trashman: "You read me my rights and I'm shutting the fuck up. No way you're going to protect yourselves with my rights. No prosecution means no prosecution."
Detective 1: "Your rights protect you not us."
Trashman: "Fuuuuuck You. Go ahead and read them, then get me a fucking lawyer."
Detective 1: "You don't seem to understand...."
Trashman: "YOU don't seem to understand. I know how that shit works. Anything I tell you before my rights are read to me and before I sign a Miranda statment can not be held against me. Anything after that, well my ass is yours no matter what deal I make with the DA. You'll just go to another level to prosecute. Now, you want my help or are you locking me up?"
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Life On The Line Part 1
This is a long story. I am going to break it down in parts. I am going to try to write a little each night until it's finished. I come off like a real asshole in this story. I guess because at this point in my life I WAS a real asshole. Some will like it, but most probably will not. I don't make apologies, It's just what happened.
In a previous life I was a pimp. I know that some people get upset over the whole pimp thing. Jen does, it was a bad time for us. We were separated and I have a habit of letting trouble find me. It would still be that way but I manage to avoid trouble by never leaving the house. I am now devoted entirely to Jen and the kids.
Back in this previous life I surrounded myself with a strange collection of characters. There was a small collection of rich boys, some gangsters, some wanna be gangsters, some gamblers, some thugs, and of course I had attracted the attention of the police. This story involves every one in this collection of mental defectives.
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was in the back room of an old boxing club located up stairs from a sausage factory. The thugs had snatched a guy off the street and were busy beating on him while me and the wanna be gangster watched. At the end of this little episode the WBG had made a deal with the thugs for $1000.00 to snatch up another guy and tenderize him for a while. Unknowingly he made a deal to have a guy that was already dead, to be tuned up.
We didn't hear anything from the thugs for awhile. Eventually they came around and said everything was taken care of. That was that, and the ordeal was over. Or so we thought. A few months later I was dragged out of a motel room by the police and my nose was packed with coke. One of the detectives proceeded to interrogate me on the spot.
Detective 1: "You Trashman?"
Trashman: "This week I am."
Detective 1: "Oh, I see you're a funny man. So where's your shit?"
Trashman: "What shit?"
Detective 1: "Your coke. We know you're coked up."
Trashman: "I ain't got none."
Detective 1: "Lean your head back."
I comply.
Detective 1: "You got a rock the size of Gibraltar stuck in your nose."
Trashman: (laughing) "Exactly, I did it all and I ain't got none left."
At this point Detective 1 drew back his arm like he was going to punch me and Detective 2 grabbed him and said "Don't, we need this guy."
Detective 2: "Can you drive downtown."
Trashman: "Sure, you guys got me so the paranoia is gone."
Once we got downtown I was seated in the office of the DA.
Detective 2: " You want something to drink?"
Trashman: "Sure, how a bout a coke?"
Detective 1 "That figures."
I just smiled.
In a previous life I was a pimp. I know that some people get upset over the whole pimp thing. Jen does, it was a bad time for us. We were separated and I have a habit of letting trouble find me. It would still be that way but I manage to avoid trouble by never leaving the house. I am now devoted entirely to Jen and the kids.
Back in this previous life I surrounded myself with a strange collection of characters. There was a small collection of rich boys, some gangsters, some wanna be gangsters, some gamblers, some thugs, and of course I had attracted the attention of the police. This story involves every one in this collection of mental defectives.
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was in the back room of an old boxing club located up stairs from a sausage factory. The thugs had snatched a guy off the street and were busy beating on him while me and the wanna be gangster watched. At the end of this little episode the WBG had made a deal with the thugs for $1000.00 to snatch up another guy and tenderize him for a while. Unknowingly he made a deal to have a guy that was already dead, to be tuned up.
We didn't hear anything from the thugs for awhile. Eventually they came around and said everything was taken care of. That was that, and the ordeal was over. Or so we thought. A few months later I was dragged out of a motel room by the police and my nose was packed with coke. One of the detectives proceeded to interrogate me on the spot.
Detective 1: "You Trashman?"
Trashman: "This week I am."
Detective 1: "Oh, I see you're a funny man. So where's your shit?"
Trashman: "What shit?"
Detective 1: "Your coke. We know you're coked up."
Trashman: "I ain't got none."
Detective 1: "Lean your head back."
I comply.
Detective 1: "You got a rock the size of Gibraltar stuck in your nose."
Trashman: (laughing) "Exactly, I did it all and I ain't got none left."
At this point Detective 1 drew back his arm like he was going to punch me and Detective 2 grabbed him and said "Don't, we need this guy."
Detective 2: "Can you drive downtown."
Trashman: "Sure, you guys got me so the paranoia is gone."
Once we got downtown I was seated in the office of the DA.
Detective 2: " You want something to drink?"
Trashman: "Sure, how a bout a coke?"
Detective 1 "That figures."
I just smiled.
Friday, October 01, 2004
Bring It On
A man died and went to heaven. When he got there, St. Peter started giving him the tour.
The first thing St. Peter did was take the man to a wall full of clocks.
The man said "What are those?"
St. Peter: "Those are lying clocks. There is one for everybody. Every time you tell a lie some time ticks off."
St. Peter pointed at a clock. "See the one that is at noon? That one belongs to Mother Theresa. She has never told a lie so no time has ticked off."
St. Peter pointed at another clock. "See the one that is two minutes after 12:00? That one belongs to Abe Lincoln, he told two lies in his life so two minutes ticked off."
The man: "Does John Kerry have a clock?"
St. Peter: "Yes he does, but Jesus keeps it in his room."
The man: "Why does Jesus keep it in his room?"
St. Peter: "He's using it as a ceiling fan."
The first thing St. Peter did was take the man to a wall full of clocks.
The man said "What are those?"
St. Peter: "Those are lying clocks. There is one for everybody. Every time you tell a lie some time ticks off."
St. Peter pointed at a clock. "See the one that is at noon? That one belongs to Mother Theresa. She has never told a lie so no time has ticked off."
St. Peter pointed at another clock. "See the one that is two minutes after 12:00? That one belongs to Abe Lincoln, he told two lies in his life so two minutes ticked off."
The man: "Does John Kerry have a clock?"
St. Peter: "Yes he does, but Jesus keeps it in his room."
The man: "Why does Jesus keep it in his room?"
St. Peter: "He's using it as a ceiling fan."
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