see your world hanging upside down

When I started this, I started it as a tool to deal with some things in my life, a way of making sense of all I have become. For entertainment purposes. As with most in my life, I strayed. I had the hankering to post an end of the year thing, but it didn't work out. Instead, I'm going to give you this, a confession of sorts to all of my friends and family so they can get some questions answered. This isn't attention seeking, a pity party invite, or anything. Its me airing some personal business, mainly in an attempt to answer some questions and try to put some minds at ease. This is not easy for me at all, not sure why I'm doing it.

Some of you have seen through all the cryptic and questionable things I've put on facebook. I've made some attempts at positivity by posting quotes, mainly in an effort to not air my woes via a silly facebook status. In all truth friends, I've fallen into a very deep and dark depression. I will spare you the details and reasons for it, but its real. And its dark. And its scary. I have been pushed to the unthinkable, putting the ones I love the most through hell. Let me be clear, my problems are just that, my problems. They are ones I've created through two decades of hard living and poor choices. Just over a year ago, it became apparent that my drinking was officially over the edge. I was left with the choice to leave that life behind or lose the woman I had so quickly and easily fell in love with. I did it. I wasn't perfect, but I did it. I stumbled a few times along the way, don't think I didn't. But one thing I learned from not being drunk five days a week, you have to re-learn how to live and deal with all of lifes little things. In all reality, this was the hard part, because I did not learn this well. Instead of having a good drunk to mask and hide all the shit that plagued me, I had to face some things. This caused a lot of havoc for me, particularly in my relationship with the woman who stole my heart. As the story goes, it just became too much, and occasionally I'd allow myself a few drinks too many. Well, to put it lightly, the fact I'm out of the drinking shape I once was in, did not help. Thus leading the liquor to bring out the worst in me, compounding everything I was going through, making all of my problems even worse. Still, I'd always do my best to rebound as best I could. Then the last couple of months came along. That relationship collapsed, my relationship with my son caved, everything I came into contact with literally seemed to be going to hell. One of these things is enough, but all of which at the same time has become too much to handle. I'm not going to lie folks, I became weak and one sorry son of a bitch. And here I stand.

I'm not asking for any pity or sympathy. I've only been able to discuss this with a few people, never maintaining my composure. I'm not the me I once was. What I'm asking of you is to take a look around at everyone you know. Someone, close to you, if not you, is suffering and dealing with the same shit. Here in a little over a week, we will mourn the two year anniversary of a friend of mine who chose to leave us way to early. He chose too. I can say now, I've walked in his shoes, I've seen what he did. The only difference seems to be the fact that for some odd reason, no matter how horrible i've felt, something has stopped me. Part of it, as I've seen the last few weeks, is an overwhelming amount of support and number of friends and family who have seen right through my bullshit. To them and you, I am truly sorry for what I have become and what I have put you all through. If anything, I do know who I can count on now. This is an extremely stupid way for me to put this out there, but its the best I can do to take a step in the right direction, for me to get better and beat this shit. I'm not going to name any names so much, those of you who read this and have reached out to me, you know who you are. I will NEVER forget this. To my Mom and Dad, I am so unbelievably horrified and sorry I've put you through all I have. That in itself is like a cancer eating away at me. To my brothers and sister, just another case of me fucking up the most, trying to show the path NOT to take in life. Thank you 3 for being you and being there for your brother when he needed you. To my kids, nieces, nephews, cousins, Frank and Charlie, and any other kids out there who I've developed a bond with. Learn from me, be strong and make better choices than I have. To my Michelle. The most sincere of apologies as well as thank yous to the one person who has put up with the most of my shit and still stuck by me. I swear, I've never meant to make this so hard. I do love you with all of my heart and by the grace of god will make up for every bit of this. To my friends, all of you. If I've EVER referred to you as my friend, all that means is that I do love you and I'm very grateful to have you in my life. To the rest of my family I've failed to mention, its great to have you in my corner. Thank you for all you've done.

So in case this has mislead you, this isn't goodbye. This is me clearing my conscience to make room for change and a new way to approach living my life. I just beg of you guys, learn from what I've suffered through and put my loved ones through. If you are reading this, I can guarantee that if you are dealing with the same thing, there is one person for sure who can relate and you CAN talk to. So, in closing, this isn't easy for me, but its easier than facing all of you that mean something to me and trying to explain it. I'm not healed, I'm not better. But I intend to be. Thank you for all of you have brought to my life, every last one of you. What ever it is that you contribute to the world was obviously enough for me to see, appreciate, and admire. It may be the very thing that saved me. For real, I love you mellon farmers....

L-Town and Down: Curse of TheMick

So I have taken a bit of a hiatus, for no real reason. I have been pleasantly surprised by the questions i've taken in regards to my recent lack of posts. I appreciate it. In all honesty, a lot of it has been due to my former X rated life and my current trying to keep in an R rated one. I've made changes, not ashamed. For my own disclosed reasons, I've tried to wash away my sins. But it doesn't change things, whats done is done, so I will share an R rated tale of debauchery with you fine folks......

In the mid 90's, I wisely uprooted and headed to Gods Country(Lincoln, Ne fools) to assist in getting away from the scourge of swi. It was a welcome change, and an eye opening one at that. So loved my time in the star city, although a few nights stand out. One late summer night my good friend and roommate, themick found ourselves in a predicament. We had departed for the downtown area late morning like, to enjoy some hot wings at what was then known as BW3, today Buffalo Wild Wings. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that a dozen chicken wings does nothing in regards to soaking up alcohol. We spent our day there, drinking, playing pool. Early in the evening, it seemed like a good idea to walk from the downtown area to our casa in the ghetto. Quite the adventure, believe me. About six blocks from home, themick recognized a face. This face informed us of a party we should look into, so we did.
This party was located at an abandoned rental property, held by high schoolers. We were in our early 20's, so fear was not an option. We found our way there, and soon did our thing. In hindsight, this party went on forever, but we all know better. Someone tipped off the homeowner, the cops were called, it was time to go. Our beloved ghetto home was blocks to the north, so me and themick did all we could to find an easy way to get there. We happened upon an idiot, an idiot in a toyota 4 wheel drive. He pledged a ride home, and as the dude would, we chose to abide, climbing in the back. NOw, the red flags arose when the idiot took off down the sidewalk, dealing all of us fools in the back tree branch smacks along the way, but no matter how hard i hit the window, it was to no avail. At some point, I figured out we were going the wrong direction. After several attempts, I finally captured said idiots attention and informed him. Immediately, he decided to correct this by cutting across Lincolns biggest median. Sirens went off in my head as to the fact that this assbag was an idiot, but he was out to prove me right. Before I could scream any expletive, I could feel the vehicle begin to roll. The next sight was one of pure horror. The other four in the back bailed, but not me and themick, we were way to drunk. And to my non delight I watched, as the truck rolled, my dear friend flew over my ahead, striking his face on the tail gate. Somehow, by the grace of Jesus Christ our lord and savior, I stuck to the interior of said truck bed. Once it came to a halt, I leapt out to check my friend. He was out and bloody. Foolishly, I drug him from the street. During this process, the driver of the trucker began to tow at me, screaming for help in turning over his upside town pick up. NOt an option. My only true memories from this point on were this: All the asians in the neighborhood screaming "WE CALL 911" and the cops pulling me off the sonuvabitch who about killed us both. While uninjured, I was in a very drunken state of shock, tending to my dear friend in the middle of the street. Other than the goodwill Asian folks, the only other recollection I have is tending to the Mick and moving him to the curb, meanwhile having the idiot driver repeatedly screaming, help me flip my truck over. While still not remember exactly what happened, I do recall the cops pulling me off the jackass as soon as they arrived. From there, I was allowed to ride in the ambulance with the mick. At the hospital, I frantically worked at remembering phone numbers and calling anyone who could help to contact the Micks family. Not an easy task when one is drunker than Cooter Brown. When the dust settled, after some time and surgeries, theMick recovered well and leads a very productive life today. I did hear that they grafted part of his ass to his face (not true, but just in case he reads this)and is still the handsome little irishman we all know and love. Sure there is a moral to all of this, don't jump into the bed of a pickup at two in the morning with a dipshit drunkass driving whom you do not know. Take notes kids, even you may face this dilemma someday.

The Candyman

It’s safe to say at some point in everyone’s life; they hit a period or an event in which they realize things need to change. For some of us, there are several. At the ripe age of 20, I found myself living a less than a life of luxury. No real job, no future, and making a lot of poor choices. To most it’s reprehensible; to some it’s how it goes. While at this stage in my life, the life I was living let a lot of people down. While a majority of the cats I was running with at that time are still going strong, doing good things with their lives, some aren’t.
When you are young and dumb in the SWI, it’s more than easy to find yourself in “compromising” positions. What I’m about to share with you is one of many I faced, this one being the most innocent I could be.
At the end of the summer of 95, me and about four of my friends rented and moved into a lovely little house not far from main street Shenandoah. Of course lovely is the complete opposite term I mean to use. We lovingly referred to this house as the Crack house, for a variety of reasons. Originally a duplex, the simple act of leaving one door opened turned this realtors dream into a 5 bedroom pleasure palace, ready for sin. Needless to say, a lot of details in this story will be omitted, those around then will know just where and what to fill in at the appropriate spots. I am willingly protecting the innocent here, and before you judge, remember these were different times.
The Crack house was a well known house in the small community. We’d been known to have parties, brawls, and some minor property damage to neighbor’s yards from time to time. It was also apparently a great spot to keep an eye on the who’s who of Shenandoah’s “underworld”. There was some surveillance of the place, constantly it seemed. It stood to reason. I was one of I believe 5 that were living there at the time. We had only been there a short time, and the lifestyle was beginning to wear on some of my wiser roommates. We had a neighbor that lived nearby, that from time to time, crossed our path. This neighbor had quite the reputation, one of a man with a chemical problem, a temper, and a love for martial arts and weapons. We will here by refer to him has Danger. Now Danger had a young girlfriend, high school young. As a matter of fact, she was in the same grade as one of my roomies girlfriends, they were close. One day, Dangers lady friend paid her besty a visit while they were both in town, stopping at the crack house for a chat. Seems innocent enough, as truly, it was.
That night we had a small bash at the crack house, nothing to wild. About a dozen of us, doing what we did, enjoying the night. That night, I apparently did it well, and decided to call it a night fairly early, almost setting it up perfectly.
Keep in mind, not so far away Danger was on one hell of a bender, spun out of his head, soothing himself with shots of Jack Daniels. He was out on the town with one of my oldest friends, one we all lovingly refer to as Griz. Later, I’d find out that all night his behavior had disturbed Griz that night, but that did me no good.
I lay asleep in my bed, all tucked in grinning ear to ear. To this day, I can remember the dream as if it were a favorite movie. For some reason, I became very hungry in my sleep, so in said dream, I ordered a pizza. I can recall the pizza’s arrival and my joy due to this. As it became time to pay for the pizza, things went south in a hurry. For some reason, the mood changed. The pizza dude began to choke the shit out of me. Damn, did this seem real. Before having the sense to wake up, I remember repeatedly asking “Who are you?” Then with one answer, I woke up. “It’s Danger”.
As my eyes popped open, thanks to the light from the hallway I can recall seeing Danger’s bulging eyeballs as he sat on top of me, choking the living shit out of me. Naturally, I began to fight back. My panic allowed me to get the quick upper hand, only to eventually get me trapped between the bed and the wall, where I became the victim of a few stomps to the midsection from Danger. As I struggled to escape what appeared to be my grave, my bedroom light came on. Luckily Griz, and a lil scrapper we’ll refer to as RB came to my rescue. Griz quickly tackled Danger, as RB whisked me from the battle zone my room had become.
A little back story here, my room was right next to my dear friend Kraig’s, and there was only a doorway, minus the door, separating the rooms. As RB pulled me from the carnage, I can recall looking at Kraig. He looked like a damn illustration from a Goosebumps novel, eyes bugged out with his blanket all the way up to the bridge of his nose, almost covering his unibrow. I recall saying something along the lines of “Thanks buddy” on my way out. He was no help.
RB quickly got me downstairs, where the party was still going. Of course, I was the only one hanging out in my drawers at this time. Still completely freaked, I repeatedly asked everyone what the hell was going on, they were all as lost as me. They had no Idea Danger was even in the house. Then the carnage came rolling down the stairs. Danger had broken free from Griz’s grasp and made another charge at me. He grabbed me by the top of my hair, and began planting knees into my face. Instinctively, the shitty junior high wrestler in me awoke and I hit him with a single leg, right into the coffee table. At this point, the loveable and well time TV decided he’d seen enough, and grabbed Danger in a bear hug and threw him out with the rest of the trash. Needless to say, no one slept in that house that night.
A short time later, I found out that Danger was a jealous man, and since his gf had ventured over, out of the 6 inhabitants, well naturally it was me she was screwing around with. Not a week later, after another brawl, Danger showed up again, this time with a samurai sword, ready for war. I on the other hand wasn’t. It was only a matter of months at this point before I wisely decided to part with that home, although there were more adventures along the way. Needless to say, it took a good decade for me to sleep like a normal human being after that. For real.

Pride of the Bearcats

Recently, I was reminiscing about my college experience with my sister in law. She noticed, as did I that, I frequently referred to my “Original Freshman Year”. Yes folks, I was so damn special I had two. Not by design of course, but by choice of poor attendance and behaviors. I’ll elaborate.
In August of 93 I enrolled at THE NWMSU in Maryville, Mo. Home of the Bearcats. Most anyone reading this will be very familiar with the scene. While most of my fellow freshman were enrolling in hopes of earning a degree, I can’t recall that even being on my list. I believe it was in ’91, NWMSU topped Playboy’s list as the #1 party school in America. It was an hour from home and I had a lot of friends going there. What better place to go and live my animal house dreams.
From the get go, I should’ve seen how this was going to be a very expensive disaster. I made a lot of friends, drank a lot of beer, and indulged in a lot of other bad habits. I was a typical college kid. Unfortunately the thing that set me apart from my classmates, was my want of attending classes. While initially, I did alright, eventually the burden of waking up, walking, and homework became a cross I didn’t feel like bearing, regretfully so. Sometime, towards the middle of October, I abandoned classes all together. I still can’t tell you what was on my mind or drove me to the decision, but it happened.
So naturally, things began to escalate. The parties were more frequent, the dorms RA’s and campus security seemed to have me on the radar quite a bit, go figure. Then finally, the levee broke.
It started off as innocently as I could’ve possibly been in those days. I lived on the 7th floor of Dietrich Hall, room 701 to be exact. My cousin Shelby had the same room some two years later when they turned it co-ed. She claimed it smelled of urine and vomit, not a surprise. I got along pretty well with most of the guys on my floor, hung out with quite a few of them. Back then, Bearcat football was bad. I’m talking Iowa state bad, no hope, a bunch of drunken criminals running around. There were several football players on my floor, and I had somehow developed a great report with the linebacking corps. About 11 pm on a misty night, I was having beers in a room down on the 6th floor, sitting in the window sill. As I looked out the window, I noticed a vehicle hauling ass down the windy road behind the dorm. I recall stating “what the hell”. As the headlights approached, I recognized the pickup as it belonged to a friend of mine named Phil. Now Phil was a stud linebacker from Texas, and if I had my guess, it would not be that he is a Doctor these days. Hell, he used to cheat off of me in some of the classes we shared back then. A great guy, but those lights weren’t all on .
Anyway, as the truck approached, not only did it become evident he was losing control, but also that there were three large men standing in the bed of it pounding on the roof. I knew this wasn’t going to end well. Immediately, the pickup barreled over a curb, and into a light pole, toppling the light pole and sending the 3 nutbars in the back flying. I immediately jumped into action, running down the stairs to check on them. By the time I stumbled to the last flight of stairs, they were all coming up, begging to be hidden. Fair enough, up to my room. After about an hour of having beers, no one appeared to be looking for them. Campus Safety just towed the truck and went about their night. We were in the clear.
Then someone, a drunk someone decided it would be cute to start a water and shaving cream fight. Not saying it was me, but someone did it. It quickly escalated to about 15 drunken underage students running about the 7th floor dousing each other at 1 in the morning. Well not everybody. I was the only one who seemed to avoid the mess. Pretty soon, the other 14 realized this and turned on me. After a couple of dope moves, proving I would’ve been a prime candidate for the running back spot on the squad, I approached my room. I’m still not certain as to the location of my roommate that night, but he was not there. As I bolted into by room, about six of them closed in on me. I tried my damndest to hold the door, but was failing miserably. There was only one option. I quickly grabbed my roomies can of right guard off the dresser and a lighter he had left behind. The McGuyver in me went straight makeshift and fought off the bloodthirsty mob, chasing them down the hall with my hillbilly blow torch. Unbeknownst to be, campus safety and a couple of RA’s had arrived on the scene to investigate complaints on our behavior. I chased the mob away, returned to my room. I cranked up the stereo (probably some cypress hill or pantera, I was hardcore) and sat down to play some sega and finish my beer. The poundings on my door went on for about 15 minutes, I naturally sensed a trap being laid by friends. Then it was pee time. As I approached the door, I noticed a couple of ID cards and a note had been slid underneath it. Shit this can’t be good.

“We are going to get the keys. Either contact us or you will be arrested.”
Shit. I quickly disposed of any contraband, in the recycle bin of course, and hit the elevator. As the door opened, there they were. A couple of Campos I’d had the displeasure of meeting during a big campus brawl a few weeks before, and they remembered me. I accompanied them to a room downstairs. We remained in there for 20 minutes, eventually I was released and went to bed.
Three days later, I received notice of a hearing with the dorm board the next week, with all the charges listed: Terrorism, Assault with a deadly weapon, Disturbing the peace, yada yada yada. It was quite the list, and laughable. I didn’t sweat it, waited until my hearing. These hearings were held in the dorm commons area, where I sat next to a dude from the fifth floor, awaiting my fate. What I remember from this was the awesomeness of his “crime”. He was a good ole boy, going in front of the board for throwing a severed deer head out of his 5th story window. How awesome is that? Before our friendship could bloom, I was called in. I was in there for 2 minutes before they could say my infractions were too serious for this level, that I was turned over to a student senate hearing the following day. My words to them were, and I quote, “Are you fucking kidding me?” They meant business. Now I was a little freaked.
This one wasn’t so fun. Believe it or not, I had experienced court before this, not a fan of it. But I went in, only after getting my mind right. All I can recall was about a dozen students sitting in a panel like a damn congressional hearing, flanking what may have been the school president. Not sure who he was, he looked important. After spewing back my offenses and what not, they gave me my turn to talk. Seeing how my mind was right, I’m certain all I said was completely incomprehensible. If I recall, by the looks on their faces, it had to have been. After a 1 minute deliberation, they came back with their verdict. The death penalty. I was to remove myself from the campus of NWMSU for a period of two years. They said If I had set foot on said campus, I would be arrested for trespassing. I laughed. Out loud. I truly thought this was a joke, until assured by the President, or whatever the hell he was, that this was not. At this point I smiled, wadded up the little paper with all my charges they gave me and tossed to the man with brass balls, thanking him.
This was of course a fun thing to explain to the mom and dad, which I’m certain they never believed me. Although I did make a few more trips onto that campus, I managed to stay off of it for the most part until my ban was up. Strangely enough, they allowed me to re-enroll there in 2001. I managed to behave myself, for the most part, and to the best of my knowledge, I’m still welcome on the campus.

REALTY SERVICE

My tales of debauchery truly began during the ever formative high school and teenage years. I always felt the inner urge to be some sort of a wild child, almost destined to be “Bluto” of Animal House fame. One of the oddest tales I have to offer, is actually one I still hear from others, the kind that may land me in that “legend” category.
Although the tale in itself took place a year after my high school career had ended, the tale began to take place long before this. At this time, I was setting a new standard for lows in my life, which of course I’d continue to reset the bar on and on. I had recently been ‘removed’ from my second college, Iowa western in Council Bluffs. I attended one class in the three months I was there and once they started putting the heat on me, I hit the road. I barely had a home to come crawling back to. My parents were at the end of their rope with me and rightfully so. So to be to the point, I didn’t have too much of a welcome at the time.
I hadn’t been home for two days when me and Lance Foster got together for some beers. Now, I know I’m not the only person guilty of this, because I’ve seen tons of other kids do this. But for some reason we felt the need to thumb our noses at the school and law enforcement. So being the detestable young pukes we were, we propped a couple of lawn chairs and a cooler full of the Milwaukee’s best light on the front lawn of his parent’s home. As the afternoon went by we had more than a few locals walk by giving us the warm and friendly small town welcomes I’ve grown accustomed to. Of course I felt cool, as old school mates got out of school I was there to prove my rebellious nature to them by offering a beer filled hand for a wave. After a couple hours of this, Lance’s neighbor came home from work.
His name was Gary and he was an Uncle of a good friend of ours. Needless to say, Gary knew us both well. Gary had recently purchased the house across from Lance’s family, and conspicuously enough had left the Realty Sign in the yard. We had a conversation about the usual subjects. At one point I finally mustered up the courage to ask Gary about the sign remaining in the yard. He replied, “Just trying to keep people talking I guess, but if it were to disappear and end up in another yard, I wouldn’t be upset.” I still to this day think Gary said this intentionally, knowing what chain of events he was setting in place.
To back track a little bit. The principal and head football coach at my school didn’t part with me with tearful goodbyes. We flat out despised each other. Now naturally after quite a few beers, I became bored. I also became quite intoxicated. Lance and I had sat their plotting chicks to call or bars to try and get into. Then it happened. Parks, as I lovingly referred to him came driving on by. Due to my underage consumption of alcohol, I actually made a good choice by not flipping ole DP the bird, choosing a menacing glare instead. I explained to Lance my hatred of the bastard, amongst other things. More time went by and the thoughts of Parks driving by kept rewinding in my drunken mind. It’s time I act.
Lance and I continued to sit there, being how none of the chicks we had called had any interest of hanging out in a front yard, getting drunk on a Wednesday night. So we sat, and we drank. At this point our conversations were struggling and we sat there in silence, staring at that bedeviling Realty sign across the street. Finally I broke.
“I’m gonna do it.” I mumbled
“Do what?” asked Lance.
I sat there for a few moments in silence, taking another huge swallow of my beer. “I’m gonna put Parks’ house up for sale.”
Lance just chuckled his sarcastic little laugh which just drove me nuts. “Bullshit. You ain’t got the balls to do that.”
“The fuck I won’t. Just watch me”. Immediately I sprang to my feet, only to damn near do a face plant. I opened up a cooler and grabbed about three more beers. Loading up my pockets, I made my way across the street, calmly and coolly pulled that damn sign straight out of the ground.
“You fucking idiot, I gotta see this.” Goaded Lance. I guess you got to know him, but this was his way of antagonizing, and he was definitely one of the best in the game at this. He grabbed a few beers and beckoned, “come on pussy lets do this.”
So we began our trek across town, which was maybe a five block walk. I had the sign hoisted up on my back, almost like I was bringing a suit home from the dry cleaners. We walked and drank, plotting my devilish little plan. Once we came into visual range of my target, we stopped. I finished my beer, telling Lance where to wait and be my lookout. As nonchalantly as I could be, which is completely mind boggling if you think about it. I was drunk off of my ass, carrying a fucking for sale sign across town. I approached my target, and quickly scanned the area for witnesses. Seeing none I made my move. I walked right into the yard and planted that sign. Of course, it couldn’t be easy and needed a little help getting set into the ground. Putting my feet around the frame of the base, I climbed up on it to use my weight to push it into the ground. Now folks, this kind of thing require a certain level of balance, and when you are a drunken ass nineteen year old, balance is pretty much out of the question at this point. I bounced as much as I could, but eventually, gravity took over. I finally did my face plant right there in the front yard, over the sign. I laid there at first, slowly coming to the realization of what had actually happened. Then the voice beckoned.
“What the hell are you doing?” I knew this voice; it was DP’s better half, Mrs. DP. Without looking, out of fear of being identified, I took off. I booked it across the street through the neighbor’s back yard and took off on a dead sprint to where Lance was. I didn’t know it at the time, but she had apparently shouted, “I know it’s you Jamie”. I wasn’t concerned with her words; I was all about getting the fuck up out of there. I ran to our rendezvous point, which was vacant.
Lance, wisely saw the events go down and decided it wise to remove himself from the situation. So there I was, all alone, but at least I had my beer. So I opened it, and began my stumble back to Lance’s. Along the way, I was to pass a house. That house belonged to some close friends of my family’s. At this time, due to their relationship with Park’s, our families had somewhat of a falling out. As I crossed the railroad tracks at the Co-op, I’d seen some headlights fire up and a pickup scream up the street from the house. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind who it was, so I made myself invisible for a moment. I continued on my way eventually and as I passed the friends house a figure came out of the dark and approached me. It was BC, patriarch of the friend’s clan and DP’s assistant coach.
As calmly as could be, he approached me and made small talk. He beat around the bush but finally said, “What the hell you walking around at this time of night?”
Always on my toes, I made up some bullshit story about meeting some friends who were fucking around and left me at a party. It was so bad, even I couldn’t believe it. I also knew that there was a fantastic possibility of Park’s coming back, so I bid BC goodbye and went about my way. I was right; I heard the pick up again and decided it best to get out of sight.
I snuck through some yards and saw Lance. Talking to DP. The only thing I could truly comprehend was Parks was pissed. He sat in his vehicle and all of a sudden I see a baseball bat point through the driver side window, only to have Lance yank it out of his hand. At this point, Lance informed him of what he intended to do with this newly acquired piece of athletic equipment. Parks knew enough of Lance not to call his bluff, and decided not to push the issue. I waited until the lights were gone and I ran up on Lance.
“You fucking idiot. I ought to kick your ass, just for that. That fuck told me to tell you he called the fucking cops. You’re fucked dumbshit.”
As we stepped back into the yard, the situation became clear as three sets of cop lights come blazing into town. Farragut is a very small town and I couldn’t recall the last time there needed to be three deputies in town at one time. “What the fuck?” I shouted.
“Fucking told ya. That deuche bag told me he had called the cops. Get the fuck out of here.” Commanded Lance. Without hesitation, I bolted.
This had to be a sight. I was drunk off my ass, trying to negotiate the obstacles of small town backyards in the middle of the night. I was hurdling dogs, running into fences, getting clothes lined at least twice. But I got out of there. I’d noticed Bill’s pickup joining the fray, and not being quite in “game time” shape, I needed to find a place to hide. Looking back, it seems it was the dumbest spot imaginable, but it served its purpose. I found a bean stubble field, just on the outskirts of town and lay there, in the middle of the field. For about forty five minutes, I watched the cops, Bill, and Parks circle the town looking for me. You would’ve thought I’d raped his wife.
Finally, as the ‘patrols’ had died down some, I made my move and went back to Lances. Upon arrival, I lost it and just puked all over his yard. Lance heard me out there and came out. “Hey, dumbass. The Sheriff called. You have twenty minutes to call him back, or he’s gonna get warrants. Call him or get out, I ain’t having the cops kick down my door looking for you.” Reluctantly, I did so.
SM is the county sheriff. He is friends with my parents and I’d never had any ‘real’ run INS with him. I called him up and told him I’d wait for him in front of the house. Lances parting words were, “I won’t make bail, dumbfuck.”
Of course, being drunk and scared, it’s hard to say what exactly was going through my mind at this point. As SP pulled up, I pulled it together and decided a full confession was in order. SP stopped, unlocked the doors and I climbed in. Fully expecting to be cuffed and stuffed, this caught me off guard. As Steve pulled away, he drove in silence momentarily, and then finally spoke.
“You know Jamie, I’m a busy guy and really like my sleep. Nothing irritates me more than being woke up at 2:30 in the morning for horseshit like this. You know it was a joke, I know it was a joke, but apparently old DP doesn’t feel that way. I advise you to be quiet and respectful, maybe apologize. Just don’t put any more fuel on the fire.” Then we pulled into the driveway of the very same home I’d just desecrated.
Now being a cocky little drunk ass, when I got out of the car something happened. I saw old DP at the door and couldn’t bare the thought of cowering and being apologetic towards him. Smug as could be, I approached the door, three deputies and the sheriff flanking me. BC was there, sitting off in the shadows, almost as if he too was trying to make sense of this odd little situation. And then he started in.
“Well?” Bellowed DP, flashing me back to those many moments spent in his office in high school.
“Well what? It was a fucking joke, I’m sorry.” I replied
“ A joke. My family is scared to death, you little punk. What right do you have putting my kids though this?” Almost begging me to fly off.
“It was a fucking sign, DAN. It was a joke. Sorry if I’m the only one around here with the balls to say what everyone else thinks.” This, getting a slight chortle from one of the deputies.
“My family doesn’t feel safe now, how do you intend to apologize to them?” Demanded that arrogant prick.
“I had no intentions of this affecting them, the joke was meant for you. That is all it was you know, a FUCKING JOKE.” Growing more and more irritated at the situation, the inflection of my voice proving this.
“This isn’t a joke. Its terrorism, vandalism, and harassment. And it won’t be tolerated. You need to grow up young man, you’re what, nineteen now. It’s time to be a man. But just so you know, I already called your parents and let them know what you did.”
Now this straw broke the camel’s back. Telling me to grow up in one breath, tattling on me in the next was the breaking point, and I got stupid. Not to mention tough. I glared right at him, eye to eye. I took a step forward trying to go nose to nose and exclaimed “fuck you then”. Quickly, one of the deputies, a complete psycho by the name of JK, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and yanked me back. This wasn’t like me. Although I wasn’t afraid to fight, at this point in my life I’d been in a few, but I’d never tried to challenge anyone like this. If it’s not bad enough I was surrounded by the fuzz, Park’s was quite a bit bigger than I. But, I was irritated.
Of course, as life in a small town goes, this was now a circus. Three o’clock in the morning, cop cars everywhere, the neighbors began to notice the commotion. Did I also mention, my aunt had lived next door to DP. Only in my fucked life could something play out so sweet. I recall noticing the glare of light from the door opening, but I never turned to look, for fear of breaking my death gaze I had fixed on old Dan. Then the voice chimed in, “Jamie, are you ok?” It was my Aunt Karoline, showing a little concern for her nephew. Of course one of the deputies informed her all was ok and asked her to refrain from saying anything more. At this point to end the situation and get everyone on their way, Sheriff SP spoke up.
“DP, you’ve got seventy two hours to decide on charges. Let me know soon.”
“Believe me SP, I will.” Replied the big dumbass. SP grabbed my arm and lead me to the car.
The ride back was awkward as hell. SP expressed his disappointment towards the situation. He stated he knew that it was a joke, and a funny one at that. In his own little way, he convinced me that he appreciated it and the fact that I was the only one with the balls to speak his mind. He also informed me of the charges DP wanted to press, and believe me there was a number of them. He wished me luck and ended things by saying “I hope I don’t have to see you soon”.
I walked back into Lance’s and informed him of the activities. Of course he was stunned and couldn’t believe that I wasn’t carted away to jail. He decided at this point to inform me that my parents had called and was on their way. Now, my step dad is the greatest guy in the world, but additionally he is probably the last guy in the world I would fuck with. Panic mode had set in at this point. I’d fucked up, and being how I couldn’t have been on thinner ice with my parents, again I was on the run. I could see their vehicle pulling into town, so I hid at the school. Lance, as well, didn’t ever fuck with my dad. He snitched me out very quickly, and the old explorer pulled into the alley at the school. They stopped and yelled my name a couple of times, and then it pulled away.
The whole time, I was merely yards away, hiding in a bush and waited until the vehicle was gone. I crept out of the bushes like a cat burglar, backing down the alley. Only to back straight into my mother. Startled, I started to run. But as always, my mothers strange kinetic powers made me stop. I was caught, dead tired and gave up.
The ride home was quiet, and knowing me, my parents chose not to talk. The next day was different. I was sobered up and still pissed. But we did talk about and surprisingly enough the support was there. They too knew it was bullshit, but stupid none the less.
In the weird ways of small towns, this odd little chain of events built up a sort of notoriety about me, a legend if you will. People remember me for this event more than anything, and from time to time an old acquaintance will ask about this. I love to share this tale, just because the whole mess that was made by a simple little prank. There is a lesson to be learned, and I still don’t know what it is. I do know this. That stupid little prank got a lot off of my angst ridden chest. I had a lot of hatred for that puke at the time, and to be honest that incident only added fuel to the fire. I’ve seen him once since then, and believe me no pleasantries were exchanged. Goes to show that some people just don’t have a sense of humor.

Battle Scars

“While window shopping through the past
I ran across a looking glass
Reflecting moments remaining in a burned out light
Tragic magic prayers of passion
Stay the same through changing fashions
They freeze my mind like water on a winter's night” – John Prine

The oh-so poetic musings of one my faves from a song known as Flashback Blues. Every time I hear this song, it always triggers that “thing” inside me, much like a good song should. I have lived a rather unique life. Being a cornfed country boy, most of the metro-minded people out there can’t fathom that myself or others like me would have tales that don’t involve a John Deere, sex with a cousin, or even the farmers daughter. But believe me, where I come from, there is always a wrong way of living. Perhaps it’s the lack of options one finds in the city, but we have our own way of going about things. My life being no exception to the rule.

I have always been more than willing to relive these tales, sitting in the bar or on a car ride. Trust me, I’ve been a part of some wild, often unbelievable shit. It’s who I am, its how I’m livin. For some time now, I’ve told myself and often others, I’m going to write a book. Perhaps, more inspired by another book of tales from an over privileged snot nose punk, my tales won’t make seem like such an arrogant asshole. Hopefully just that of a cornfed country boy with a knack for finding himself in some surreal situations. Now for obvious reasons, some names will be changed throughout the course of these stories, and there will be some obscene, very vulgar, and often unbelievable scenarios that unfold. But I assure you, they are true, although obviously somewhat foggy.

Being my life has hit the wall, I’m gonna utilize this tool to not only pass the time, but Entertain myself (and hopefully you) in this odd little trip down memory lane. Again, this won’t be for sensitive eyes, so please enter at your own risk. Enjoy, bitches…..