Tag: story

JT Stays At The Motorcycle Club Safe House

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safe house

 

J. T. Hilltop

Disclaimer…in order to preserve the integrity and anonymity of the motorcycle group in this story as well as my own personal protection for disclosing a few of their not so well guarded secrets I will refer to the group as the “Infidels” Infidels were original a name given to anti-Christian religions, kinda like Pagans. So this MC Club are the main rival club of the Angels from Hell and their name has Pagan roots. But I never said that……..

It Won’t Be Long Until You Belong

For reasons I won’t discuss I found myself a temporary resident of a safe house with the Infidels Motorcycle Club. Suffice to say my best friend Archie, who I knew since kindergarten was a member in good standing and it was at his request I was kept away from the world under the protection of his brother Infidels. It was keeping me safe more from myself than anything insidious but there I was, surrounded by a lively bunch of guys whose most obvious flaw was forgetting or simply not caring enough to bathe. (If you know a biker please don’t tell them I said that) To be honest once in the safe house where they let down their guarded style of confrontational outlaw anger and angst they were a remarkably gracious and fun group. They joked both with and about me and I kidded back in an extremely cautious manner. That said it was still my best interest to be aware and respectful of the clubs hierarchy.

The Bayshore Infidels are highly organized motorcycle club chapter with strict chapter rules and a deeply revered caste of social status within the group. My friend was a member in good standing but he had no special attributes, which basically meant he hadn’t earned upper club status through doing time in prison, beating the hell out of a rival club member, or earning the ultimate title of ITCB. That essentially intimated that the person removed an obstacle for a higher up. I Took Care Of Business (ITCB) loosely translates to I’m a homicidal maniac and if you fuck with any officer of our brotherhood you’ll be dead before you can apologize. Archie was a kind and mellow friend back in the day so it came as no surprise he hadn’t reached any of those statuses. Yet. He had however developed a certain air of violent behavior I hadn’t seen since we fought over Tonka toys and Lincoln Logs in kindergarten, and was quite intent of getting me to join his newfound club.

Archie explained to me how I could start off in the socially admired position of “hanger around”. The hanger around has literally no status with the club but is permitted to go on beer runs and clean up after parties to include numerous piles of stale beer stinking puke stains, piss puddles, and an array of DNA treasure troves so gross you don’t even want to guess at what they are or how they got where they did, let alone whom they belong to. As appealing as that sounded doubt had already begun churning up in my stomach. If you last past that for a year or two you may find yourself a member willing to sponsor you. Then you become a prospect and are allowed to begin proving yourself loyal. You do this in a number of ways which may involve getting into a fight with someone who disses the Infidel colors or someone’s bike, or by taking care of the wounded, and by becoming an official gopher and basically holding your head high while any and all members emasculate dissect embarrass harass and generally shit on you for everyone else’s amusement. Not able to wear colors as a prospect but at least no longer on DNA scrub detail unless there were no hanger arounds around. After that the levels and their status in the brotherhood vary but it sounded like a bloody violent and downright disgusting form of fraternal challenges that go on for a very long time before you earn the right to wear the patch, and add 1%er to you jacket. To be honest it sounded more like an unending audition for The Ultimate Jackass Movie featuring The Marquis De Sade.

But anyway I was here as a guest not a hopeful wannabe outlaw on two wheels despite the promise of oodles of drinking, smoking, and ass kicking. Besides, by the look of these behemoth brutes in this safe house it would more than likely my ass that would be on the kicked end and I‘m just not a fan of having my face nor my ass bloodied up. So it was with a modicum or more of trepidation that I joined in the fun we, or at least they were having. For lunch we had a six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon premium beer. Aside from my sarcasm PBR’s were a staple not only with the biker crowd but also with the middle class kids that never got allowances so it wasn’t actually out of my social stratus anyway. The shit was cheap and good, two qualities us young know it all dudes liked in both beer and women. So it wasn’t an unfamiliar lunch but considering I was being “kept safe” it did lack a certain nourishment. That aside, it did take the edge off which was helping me get through my 3 days of safe house rehab. So the lunch was good but lacked any substance, but dinner hadn’t yet been considered. For dinner we had two six packs of PBR’s which while not much in the way of real vitamin intake it was jam packed with psychological vitamins. By seven o’clock my head was so numb nothing else mattered, which was after all why I was there in the first place.

I’m guessing it was more of Archie’s girlfriend, or “Chick” or “Mama” Lauren who decided we all needed something solid in our stomachs but at any rate at around 1AM or so Archie, Lauren, another couple who I won’t make a fake name for because I have no clue what their real names are anyway all packed in to a cage(a non motorcycle four wheeled vehicle) and headed out to a dinner. To the best of my compromised recollection I ordered Belgian Waffles. I say this because both Archie and :Lauren laughed their respective asses of the next day telling me I kept calling them belching waffles because my PBR diet had caused an enormous excess of gas.

The truth is I have very little memory of the diner or the waffles let alone any clue as to what I may or may not have said. Suffice to say it was an interesting first safe day with the Infidel Motorcycle Club who were all compassionate endearing, and even charming when away from the perils of everyday life among the citizens. I am forever in debt to to them for holding my hand through a very tough period of not just the three days I had hoped for but extending my safe visit for a five day experience I needed. That group of outstanding if intimidating riders helped me move on with my life free from at least one evil that no longer had it’s deep claws stuck into my circulatory system. Archie and I lost contact again but I have heard that he has since passed, and I haven’t a clue what became of Lauren or any one of the beautiful souls who saw me through my predicament but still I will love them forever.

Peace

 

 

 

 

 

 

Death After Death part 2

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p2

J.T. Hilltop

Life after death? Is that what’s to be with me? One thing for sure I can’t wait to meet this “Creator” at the bottom of the staircase. I started down the steps I had just recently negotiated in an odd mix of fear and curiosity. Halfway down I stopped and looked back up to ask one more question. My advisor was no longer there I was alone. The image, my Mom, my daughters, my love, my friends everyone I ever cared about were gone. They had all disappeared and I was alone with a notion. The notion that something was waiting at the bottom of the staircase and that something was the truth. What is truth? Is truth law? Will truth reveal all? Is truth unchanging or ever changing? Can I choose a dare instead of truth? Will it set me free? Does truth have feeling? Can I handle the truth? Will I find the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? And most importantly, are all these questions even necessary? Time to go on down to the bottom and find out!

No more questions I have my answer. Go downstairs and find out what the truth is. I proceeded cautiously not knowing if truth was an entity, a concept, or a trap. As I climbed downward I noticed that the staircase was spiral. But it wasn’t a spiral before. Or was it? Whatever, its time to bribe the piper, to face the joyous sounds expressed through musical instruments, time to get on the hippie multiple person transport vehicle and find out for myself. When I reached the bottom of the staircase no one was there, just a huge blackboard with some drawings and equations scrawled across it. There was a picture of a DNA strand, a helix, and a diagram of a Nautilus shell, diagrams of various ferns, flowers and plants all spiral in shape, and some sort of segment worm curled up tight. Tacked onto the top of the blackboard were 3 aerial photographs of massive super storms. On the other side of the board was all numbers, or rather symbols numbers and fractions and such. A math geeks orgasm. There were some I recognized like 3.14159265359, which I knew was pi, multiples of nine showing how each quotient adds back up to nine, (9×2=18..1+8=9,9×3=27..2+7=9..etc), as well as a series of equations that could not possibly be more foreign to me. Perhaps even Einstein would have found a spot amongst his quizzical locks to scratch his head and ponder the meaning. That said….What the Fuck?? What is all this shit supposed to mean to me? This is the truth? I didn’t understand what or why I was looking at this strange blackboard but I knew it would give me the answer to my…….Jesus shit I don’t even remember the question anymore. Not sure if it was what is life all about or what is death all about or something in between. Something important was here in front of me so I decided to give it a stab with the images and leave the math number and letters problem for the end. I looked closely at the image of the giant storms from an aerial view, the nautilus, and the ferns and realized that they were all spiral in shape. Just like the damn staircase. Come to think of it the DNA strand and helix are two spirals intertwined. I looked to the spiral formed by the segment worm all curled up. Then I thought about a milky way galaxy photo I had seen before. Out loud to no one I blurted out, “Holy fuck, its about spirals, like the fucking galaxy. That’s it!! The truth is spirals. Spirals!” I was overjoyed for about ten seconds until the next thought hit me. What the fuck do spirals have to do with anything? Again I spoke to no one. “Yea, that’s it, spirals. But that’s what? I still don’t get it, and I will never get what those stupid equations mean.” I stared up at the board and was startled when the no one I had been speaking to spoke back to me in a sort of scratchy and almost squeaky voice.. “You’re right, it is spirals. Even the equation is spiral, the golden spiral. I am quite impressed that your scientists and mathematicians have figured it out. Your people have learned much, and have lost me a lot of bets in my world. This logarithm, Pi, the DNA, all of the math up there is no accident, it’s my signature. Like a barcode or watermark you use to identify things, or a hologram The math problems are my hidden code that I myself scripted all over your universe. That ensures proof to all the other universe makers that this one here is mine and belongs to me. I call my universe ‘Omnia Etares”. The signature spirals appear everywhere. Galaxies are spiral, your DNA is a spiral, storms, shells, everything. That’s what happens when atoms collide, natural spirals form when the energy shoots out from both sides of the explosion in a whirlpool fashion forming a spiral. Imagine two cars colliding head on in slow motion. At the epicenter there would be a big explosion and parts from both cars would spray backwards. Pieces of the pieces travel to different distances depending on their weight or size, their mass. That’s how this universe and your sister universe started. I collided two atoms together and the resulting explosion was spread around and settle at different distances from the center. The beginning of two universes look like a surrealistic bowtie. The collision is the knot and identical universes fan out like the tie triangles Some of the larger pieces in each universe slam into each other forming planets, asteroids, comets, and even galaxies. It all travels in a spiral pattern even though its not perceptible to the eye. Why even this universe itself is spiral JT. I know common belief is it’s constantly expanding but that’s only part true, it is expanding as it spins inward and will in time settle until it slams into someone else’s universe. A better term for the vastness of space would be multiverse” I was so stunned to hear a voice I barely even processed what he had said let alone had the where withal to wonder how he knew my name. That is to say I thought I was stunned. When I actually turned to see who was talking to me I was galactically bewildered.

Not a tall muscular slender long-haired Herculean man as one might expect a creator or godlike truth teller to be but a rather diminutive and non athletic man with tightly curled short black hair. His nose was too big for his oblong face and he had what seemed a chronic case of chin stubble in a futile attempt at appearing cool. Not at all what I would expect as a creator, he seemed more like a tech geek at a Radio Shack or Best Buy. He was dressed the part of a scientist in a lab coat complete with black glasses, pencil behind the ear, and clipboard in hand.. He stared at me blankly as if he were completely done talking and I should just be assuring him I understood what he had said. But clearly I didn’t get it. “You? You’re God, you are the creator?” The tone of my voice was way too obvious in its incredulousness and cynicism. He did not look the least bit offended however and gave me an all too familiar condescending smile. “Not what you were expecting JT? Tell me what a creator looks like and I’ll see what I can do to make you feel more at ease.” I glared at him defiantly, “Well I certainly didn’t expect the creator to be so sarcastic, nor did I think it would be a nerd. What should I call you anyway, Mr. Adam collider, The Grand Creator of everything? That sounds awfully egocentric for a humble End all be all.” This time his smile was more genuine. “Now who’s being sarcastic? My name would be way to foreign to you to say so when you call me you can call me Al.” I couldn’t resist the Paul Simon reference and I replied with a chuckle, “like I can be your bodyguard and you can be my long lost friend?” He looked at me puzzled and with an air of confusion said, “No. Al, as in Albert Einstein. I am a physicist too but far beyond any human abilities. Einstein did come close however, so I just go by Al for you humans. I was the one who collided the atoms that formed the ‘Big Bang’ your people have been talking about.” I stared in total disbelief, “Wait Al, I need to sit down and sort this through.” My new friend, teacher, guru, and I assume Sherpa of my afterlife, this Al manifestation gave me a chair.

Al allowed me about ten minutes to gather my bearings. “ Maybe I should start at the beginning JT. What I am is similar to what you call a scientist but my form is from a very different universe. Call me a shift shaper if it’s easier but the truth is I’m more like pure energy with a conscience. In my universe the scientists create universes by colliding positive and negative atoms and try to find life on them. At some point they may even be able to create one here on your earth with one of those, what do you call them, particle accelerators, the Large Hadron Collider.” I was now starting to understand. “You mean like the one in Switzerland for CERN right? Some sort of underground tube ride for atoms that cost a few billion dollars and is supposed to make the scientific community all warm and fuzzy and shit. The Higgs Bosen God thingy. They are gonna recreate the …” It hit me. “Holy shit, the big fucking bang! They are going to create a new universe down there!“ Al rolled his eyes, looking more like a parent than a creator. “Put that way it seems less relevant, but yes that’s where it may happen. I hope they know what to do if they are successful. A universe expanding underground will get pretty messy. Anyway, they do a lot more than just that down there, they are gathering all kinds of information they believe will help them understand their universe.” My head was spinning and I was beginning to wonder if this was maybe some weird ass dream or something. A flash of questions hit me the first being about Al owning my universe. “Hold on there Al, your getting way ahead of me here. Lets go back a bit. Back to your signature thing. Are you telling me you created the universe and then invented pi, and those other math equations as a way of claiming this universe as your own? Sorry but that sounds ridiculous.”

This creator, this Al dude, had begun pacing by the blackboard rubbing his head while slightly tussling his poorly recreated hair. I assumed he was planning his answers. Once a scientist always a scientist I guess. Finally he spoke, “Okay JT, first I’ll tell you about my role in this and then we can get to the truth you search for so you can move on.” Even in the middle of this profound and hopefully enlightening philosophic discussion with either a spirit or alien the phrase move on was rather disconcerting. What the fuck did he mean by that? Perhaps I would be better off stalling him, but fuck that, then I’ll have to stay in this…..this classroom or lab or whatever. I shut up and let him continue. “So this is hard stuff to understand and I really don’t think its important to you but here goes. I am a universe scientist. Quantum physics is only scratching the surface vibrations if you pardon my pun. Everything is in constant motion but on a sub-sub-sub atomic level its imperceptible even to microscopes. Like tiny nose hair vibrations. You believe an atom is the smallest thing around, but its not. Reverse dark matter is. In our labs we create energy from this reverse dark matter, form them into tiny knots of energy similar to what you call atoms. It gives the energy mass, or substance. Inside this, let me call it a tiny ball of powerful energy, I placed my math equations to be constant throughout. Placed them in each of two atoms and had them spin at speeds that make light seem slow as a century. When those two balls of energy collided they created an explosion. It starts out very small, but like all explosions grew outwards. That’s your universe, or actually my universes, this one and your sister universe. Your sister universe has life to but not in any form you would recognize. It’s not like you sci-fy parallel universes with alternate realities. That is something else entirely and involves dimensions but we won’t get into that.” He looked at my blank face. “Too much JT?” I looked up at him with some degree of confidence, “No, not really. Well I was getting the whole universe thing but now you slam my brain with dimensions and alternate reality. What the fuck is that all about?” Al laughed out loud, but not a biting laugh, more like the laugh a parent might use when tackling difficult subjects. “That certainly is another discussion fopr another time my son, suffice to say you live in a dimension that has billions of other dimensions stacked up like a warehouse pallet. But let’s not go there yet, lets stick to universe creating. To one of the energy balls I added some carbon, to the other I added hydrogen which is the building foundation for life. So in essence, I created you and every living thing you have ever known. We can’t control life we only create it. All living things take its own direction. Every living thing in this universe is related, it began with one single cell. In this single cell organism was my signature math equations as well as instructions on duplicating. What your scientists have figured out to be DNA. A strand of information and instruction from me passed on to everything that reproduces, an owners manual if you will. Sometimes they just duplicate themselves out of extinction and other times, like on earth, two organisms collide and form a multi-cell organism, which creates the male and female structure. After that its all logarithmic growth creating more diversity at every split. You are a rather tiny and irrelevant part of it, but all universes experience forms of life and yours happens to be the one with a brain capable of reasoning so I explain to those I think can handle it how it is they got here. For whatever reason humans have an innate sense of wonder and a desire to understand that so strong its driven many of you mad. I believe it was when you left the water and began to form a brain some billions of your years ago. Over time that brain grew in size and became able to actually think and reason. So once I tell you your truth, you can go on and become part of the matter of the universe again. Who knows, maybe part of you will form a new star, or comet.”

Al looked in my eyes and I could tell he knew much of what he told me was above my pay grade. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “So that’s that. Now what about that truth do you want to know more about?” Once the confusion subsided a mild anger began to set in. I mean I’m dead so what have I got to lose? This unworthy looking god pretender claims to have created everything then call’s me insignificant! This shit can‘t be real. “No way, no fucking way am I buying all this bullshit. This is some kind of bad dream or nightmare or something and you’re not real. I ate something that is fucking up my system and giving me this piece of shit dream. All this shit about colliders and spirals, equations and explosions is all bullshit. I live in the information age and this is just bacon cheeseburger Google overload. It’s the price I pay for being in the world wide web, cruising down the information highway guzzling beer and chomping on cheeseburgers and fries and having the Encyclopedia Britannica at my fingertips. Once I fell asleep this weird ass nightmare began with that happy place upstairs. You must represent Hell in my nightmare.”

Exhausted from my tirade I sat down again. Al stared at me then shook his head. He seemed ever so slightly frustrated with me but kept a cool even demeanor. “ I assure you this is not a dream, there is no Hell, and I am real. Well real in the abstract anyway. My look and mannerism are manifestations you created in order to understand better. If you saw what I truly looked like it would as you say, blow your mind. Listen JT you were not living in the information age, the true information age began long ago and what you are in is more of an information overload age. Your concept of time isn’t completely accurate so I don’t expect you’ll understand that, but I will explain as much as I can for you. You are not even living at all anymore but that’s beside the point. Because I have grown fond of your species I try to at least at times to satisfy the driving force of questioning that exemplifies your species. You have an open mind and are capable of seeing beyond how the world was explained to you by people who know next to nothing about life. You think you have acquired so much information you can just will all you have learned in a dream? That my dear boy is what you call bullshit. You haven’t. Stay seated my boy because I am about to tell you things about dreams and information that will challenge almost everything you think you know. Your species reaching knowledge this far is somewhat of an anomaly and does not happen often. It was a series of bizarre and incredible coincidences that got your species to where it is and that’s why your kind fascinate me so much. Put on your safe body fastening strap because your in for an uneven terrain traveling destination.” I did remain seated, and began to worry. “Okay Al, I’m ready, bring on the bumpy ride.

TBC

 

 

 

Understanding Nothing (Transcendental Meditation)

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nothing

 

J. T. Hilltop

Chapter III

I laid there in the sand totally exhausted, happy, and satisfied beyond belief. The smile on my face was so enormous my jawbone ached and my eyes were nearly closed. I had just had the most incredible sex in my life and I couldn’t move. Desiree began to gently shake my shoulder apparently ready to go one more time but I was spent. I looked up saying ”Sorry babe I just couldn‘t….oh, Dr. Kha, its you!” The fog began to clear from my mind, “I see you make visit to paradise JT. Must be careful not to get too wrapped up in desires, make you feel good but also cloud judgment. But she teach you that not me, I teach you everything about nothing. If you want see opposite universe it take much more than acupuncture, incense, and meditation, you need Transcendental Medication. Tomorrow we put you in sensory depravation tank with special punctures dipped in mixture of essences from Belladonna, Angel Trumpet, and Nutmeg Paste. Essence will free mind and allow to see without eyes. Transcendental Medication. Ownry then JT will you see truth, opposite universe, and maybe even understand nothing. Tomorrow is day you begin journey to meet God face to face.”

 

 

Meet God face to face?! Well this is gonna be pretty interesting considering I can barely remember having ever believed in God. Oh I know there was a time but only because it was what my Mom told me to believe and I trusted her implicitly. Why would she lie about God? But around age six or seven my best friend and his family died in a house fire two days after his birthday party. Mom told me my friend was up in heaven now where he’ll be safe. I asked why God wanted the family and why he made their house go on fire and all she could tell me was that God had a plan and we shouldn’t question him, but I wasn’t buying that bullshit. I started having my doubts about this God character and his so called plan so I made up ways for him to prove himself to me. Instead of “now I lay me down to sleep” I engaged in conversations at bedtime with God. Only they weren’t dialogues they were monologues. Night after night. I only asked for small signs, no giant challenges, no plagues or forty day storms or anything like that. Something simple like make my covers fall off or scratch the wall. I never asked him to beat up my older brother or return my best friend and his family back to life or anything profound, just you know like leave a light on, move a book or something. Anything. But night after night, no signs, no answers. Mom took me to church on Sundays and even at that young age I could see it was filled with hypocrites singing and praying. Old man Martin who was perpetually drunk in his backyard all dressed up in suit and tie singing, hands folded. Old lady Brown kneeling on the pew. In whispers the adults called her a Jezebel. I didn’t know what that meant at the time but by the way the adults showed distain I knew it wasn’t a good thing. Years later I learned kneeling was a common occurrence for her but apparently kneeling was okay only if it was on the pews on Sundays. By the time I turned eleven I was already a full fledged atheist but I continued my religious schooling to appease Mom. I was even so fascinated or maybe hopeful I studied other religions as I got older. I learned more about God by more names than I thought possible and became more sure than ever that God doesn’t exist. At least not the God I’d been taught. And now after all that I’m meeting God face to face tomorrow! At least according to Dr. Kha. Well maybe God’ll explain why he never even tapped on my wall.

I was nervously excited as I entered the THC clinic the next morning. A nurse led me down into the basement and laid me down on a cot that was chained to a sort of crane with chains and pulleys. Like a harsh torture hammock. I looked up with a quick glimpse believing the nurse to be Ambrosina. She smiled at me, winked and whispered, “Later JT. I’ll see you later.” Before I could even answer Dr. Kha came in with a small silver table filled with needles and a bowl of syrupy liquid. “Must be excited JT, yes? First I dip pricks in essence, place them at precise point and then close you in tank. No incense, no music today, ownry serenity. When ready we let you free from tank and journey begin. Relax and enjoy enlightenment my son.” I laid there motionless, a combination of anxiety and excitement as Dr. Kha placed the dripping needles about my body like acupunctures. The needles were warm and wet. Six on my forehead, two in each ear, two in my neck, and at least a dozen in each leg. I could feel the essences making they’re way into my blood and it warmed my veins. I instantly relaxed the anxiety faded away leaving only a smile. I felt at comfort with the feeling because it wasn’t foreign, it was like the old days just before the LSD kicked in. I was about to start tripping like I had in my drug experimentation days and it warmed my soul with fond memories.

I was strapped in the hammock and lowered down into a tank of warm water as the lid of the tank closed leaving me in complete darkness. Total darkness with no sound at all. No music, no one near me, it kinda made me feel vulnerable, like a lamb waiting for slaughter. I was feeling a bit claustrophobic. Anxious, confined, alone yet strangely serene. Alone with my own thoughts. As time passed I began to wonder if perhaps this is a big waste of time. I became angry I was allowing this to happen to me. I wanted out. I called to Dr. Kha a number of times but he didn’t respond. I was alone and my anger faded into depression. I remembered the five stages of grief and realized I had just denied TM, then bargained to get out, got angry and finally depressed. I was now finally at acceptance. Total darkness. Alone with nothing but an irritating voice in my head insisting I was missing some major point about nothingness. My head was swirling with thoughts or maybe dreams of all sorts of shit, memories from way long ago, places I have been to, totally random things. I think I had some very bizarre dreams. I’m not even sure what’s a dream or what is a thought? From surreal to harsh reality it was one episode after another. The dream or thoughts seemed to float, moving as though filled with helium, the further they went away the calmer I got. After about…wait, that’s odd. I have no idea how long it’s been. I have no idea what time it was or how long I’d even been alone here in the dark. Had I fallen asleep? Has time stopped for me? As I pondered again the readmitted claustrophobia and panic subsided, sliding me into complete acceptance. Everything is serene, calm, and quiet. Existence is not as special or amazing as I thought. Oh I’ll give you the complexity of being a living breathing thing is quite extraordinary, what with networks of communication inside me traveling at mind bending speed, blood, oxygen, even the way I need to eat and void unnecessary remnants from food is amazing. And evolution, well what is evolution other than strategy of survival? But the FACT that I or anything exists here, right here right now on this seemingly huge planet is so remarkably insignificant when I think about it in Universal terms.

Super Nova’s, Black Holes, Quasars, and galaxies, those are amazing. Time and space being curved or the possibility of alternate universes, that’s amazing. I’m nothing, just a teeny weenie blip of nothingness in time and space. I giggled as I watched that thought float away when I thought I heard a voice. “Now you are understanding nothing JT. You are ready to see alternate reality.” It was Dr. Kha’s voice but how? Must be a camera or some sort of electronic monitoring he used. “No use camera, no use device JT, ownry listen to you.” Wait! What did he say? Listening to me? But I’m not talking I’m only thinking. “Not thinking JT, talking. Not words out loud but still talking. And we hear you. You are ready to come out now.”

The pulley’s lifted the makeshift cot upwards as the top opened brining me not into an office but in a clearing in a mountain wilderness blistering with life and color. Oh my God the colors were so deep and rich, so real. I was inside a melting crayola colored landscape beside a stream. Dr, Kha was there along with two strangers. “Come sit down with us JT, we share herb of life… You come to me asking why there is something instead of nothing, yes? I ask you now, why it cannot be something and nothing?” I asked him who the two men were and he told me they would lead me to God after I finished my lessons. He handed me a long pipe which I took readily inhaling almost instantly. The smoke had a minty smoke flavor and was not in the smallest way irritating. I held it in like it was pot until it exploded inside my head. Actually exploded. My head must have grown ten inches. Images where fractured as if they were photos layered on top of each other and superimposed. I tried to stand up but instead floated, or better hovered effortlessly as the three men laughed. “I don’t see what’s so funny, everything is out of focus. Motion, Time, sound, even life is out of focus.” The men continued laughing until Dr. Kha pointed to me, “Seem you forget pants JT. You come ownry in underwear. You are right everything out of focus. That how world really is. You see on quantum level now, you move with quantum motion and see with quantum eyes. You think unreal but exact opposite. Everything around you in constant motion JT, but your non quantum eyes cannot perceive. That why most people can never see God. I believe if most people really were able to see God they be scared, not elated. You see realities now JT, in your normal world nothing really what it seem to be. You are going on journey most people cannot handle, that what Transcendental Medication do my son, it open your mind and eyes to realities clouded by limitation of human perceptions. Dreams are real perceptions JT, ownry seem too abstract to you to be real. You not have pants on because it dream that haunt you as child. That’s from the drugs. The medication will help you confront many uncomfortable dreams you have had but also some very good dreams. And dreams you have not had yet. A new era of perceptions waits for you JT, you were chosen for this journey. Your two guides are messengers of God and I am your handler. The three of us will lead you on journey of everything , something, nothing, and true God after you visit Ambrosina for lesson on desire and power. Go to her, she waits for you and you must first understand yourself before you can know nothing.” Dr. Kha smiled at me like a teacher, or a father maybe, “Take your boat.” I looked at the stream which had my little row boat from my previous visit tied to a tree. “Just get in boat JT, and follow river. You will know when to…. get off…Ha ha ha. Then when you come back we discuss your perceptions” What an odd sense of humor, an old man like Kha using a sexual double entendre about “getting off” I thought to myself as I got in the boat. Dr. Kha untied the rowboat setting me free, “Not as old as you think, but much older as well JT.” I heard all three men laughing as the boat headed to wherever the current took it. How the fuck could he hear my thoughts? I’d better be careful what I think.

The ride didn’t take very long because I could see a woman in the distance waiting on shore. I wished the boat over to her and it went of its own accord. When I got out I was back in the island paradise where Ambrosina had so totally controlled and dominated me bringing me to the most incredible orgasm of my life. I got off the boat with profound anticipation and walked up to the woman waiting. I knew I was looking at Ambrosina but she appeared so different. Her hair tied in a ponytail wearing very little make up. She was dressed casual yet somehow stern. A beige corduroy button down dress with matching skirt. In place of the sexy shoes were low heeled casual loafers. Sensible shoes! She appeared demure and intimidated as she walked up to me, placed her mouth right at my ear an whispered, “If you want me you have to take me tonight. You have to want me bad enough to force me.” As she walked away I watched her ass bounce lightly back and forth giving me a semi erection. Despite the changes I wanted her in the worst way. The lust built up inside my loins and I knew I would do whatever I had to in order to make love to Ambrosina again. But how to start, I’ve never forced anyone before, that’s rape! Ambrosina turned around looked at me with her incredible sensuous eyes. I glanced down at her lips as she mouthed, “I’m ready JT, come take me. I’m here to service you. I give consent but I want it hard!” I knew I had the power to ravage her and it felt invigorating. I had this tingling feeling I was really gonna dig being Transcendentally Medicated and my now full on erection nodded in agreement.

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

I Was A Fly On Nixon’s Wall

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fly

The short lifespan of a fly doesn’t have much in the way of excitement so when I woke up in the oval office of The White House I knew I had a good story to tell my grand-flies. You know it must have been quite a ride landing me here in DC with Richard Milhous and his cronies but more on that later. First a little background about the life and times of us pesky flies.
All in all it’s a boring life. Oh sure if we find some dead body its like an all you can eat buffet for the entire family but that’s just a night out to binge and purge. There’s not a whole lot of exciting occurrences for a fly. Avoid that sticky gooey tape thing, play dive bomb at people heads while they try and swat us, and wait around to find some tasty shit. Literally. We live short simple lives and have very few needs. Air traffic patterns to confuse predators, anti-web maneuvers which, by the way seldom work, friggen spider bitches, and some good rotting flesh or defecation. Basically we eat puke, and eat again. Then we rub our hands together to make humans think we’re hatching diabolical plans and then just head out to look for some excitement.
Oh yea, about that fly paper. That’s my pet peeve man its a real bitch because we think we’re gonna get laid and then all of a sudden glop! Bastard humans make those sticky tapes smell just like lady fly fluids and I’ve witnessed many a friend die thinking he was gonna do some mid-air muff diving only to find himself trapped dangling in a gluey mess with a dozen other would be amorous fly boys. But I don’t want to bore you with the details of the danger of life as a fly I came here to share the interesting conversations I was privy to while I was hanging out in the oval office here in the Whitehouse during the days of what humans call the Watergate scandal. From my vantage point on the wall I was able to hear quite a tale with a cast of characters that, well lets just say for them to call our larvae maggots is extremely hypocritical. They think their fecal matter isn’t odiferous but any fly worth its proboscis can smell a politician miles from the beltway. But how did I get here? C’mon, I’ll walk you through it.
Okay the last thing I remember last night was falling asleep all snug in the hidden hair region of a women that I picked up bar. I had just flown in from Boston and man were my wings tired. It was pouring rain so I found this cozy little bar in Washington DC looking for a safe place to rest when I saw Destiny. Destiny was her name and my destiny was to find a comfy place to sleep in her warm pubic bed which is exactly what I did.
Destiny was at the bar drinking and when some dude started hitting on her it woke me up. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?” Phhhhtt. Real original! I started dozing back off because I had a feeling this clown wasn’t getting anywhere near my curly hair snuggle mattress. Not with an opening line like that.
But the dude was persistent so I couldn’t fall asleep. He told my ride his name was George and he claimed he was some powerful man in DC. Oh yea, and a Scorpio. Small talk? That was microscopic talk, this dude was going nowhere. I fell asleep when he started asking Destiny what her sign was assuming Georgie boy wasn’t getting any honey tonight, at least not from Destiny. I got the feeling the asshole was married and Destiny would no doubt pick up on that too so I felt safe and sound curled up in her warm curlies. But great God Brundle-fly was I ever wrong.
I woke up and found myself not in a soft perfumed curly muff hair mattress but in a dark coarse long brittle hair bed that smelled of cheap scotch and stale cigarettes. I found myself sleeping in the thick ugly mustache of none other than G. Gordon Liddy. Seems somehow Georgie Porgie got lucky at some point last night and I was given a transfer to Liddy Lip Central which brought here to the oval office of the White House.
Now G. Gordon was a real son of a bitch even by fly standards. Let me just say that I had no trouble throwing up on his smelly-ass lip rug to dissolve some of Destiny’s leftover love juice for my breakfast. He makes puking easy. Apparently he was some kind of bigwig in the FBI and has been screwing people over for a living for some time. He was a personal friend of the other asshole in the office, Richard Nixon. Think I’m bullshitting? Well I shit you not my friends because Tricky Dicky here taped the whole thing to validate my tale s listen to my story as I play the taped conversation and you’ll get what I mean.
TBC

The Continuing Adventures of JT Hilltop/The Long And Winding Road Home

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home

Whenever you’re hitchhiking you take a chance on the driver’s intentions. Kidnapper, serial killer, sexual predator, cannibal. And those aren’t even the scary ones. But if you’re broke and you need to get somewhere far away taking a chance may be the only feasible option. I caught a glimpse of my reflection, wild stringy hair, rough beard, dirty clothes, and generally pretty unkempt looking and pondered further. On the other hand the person offering me the ride is also taking a chance. Perhaps I’m wielding a machete waiting to take over his truck, maybe I’m an axe murdered, or a road warrior searching for a target to engage in a fun packed evening of torture. So when it comes down to it we were both taking a chance. Thankfully for us both we each proved to be pretty much normal. Or at least not nefariously crazy. Jeb was driving a medium sized furniture store truck called Franklin’s Furniture. Creative name aside he was a relatively nice guy who it turned out has a home complete with wife, kids, two cats, a dog and I would assume a picket fence outside of Fredericksburg Virginia. The furniture store he drives the truck for is a family business with Jeb Franklin the oldest son of the founder and owner Frank Franklin. (I know, right?) The only excitement Jeb ever seemed to have was when he took trips down to North or South Carolina to pick up furniture for the family’s store. He was enthralled listening to my tales and I was more than happy to pass the time relating my travels in a slightly embellished format. In fact he was so enthralled by my enhanced tales and so tired of his “boring” life he decided we should pick up a few beers before he has to go home to his mundane life with “the wife and kids” and go hang out for a bit. So we pulled off I95 at Fredericksburg and drove about fifteen minutes before he pulled into a deli.
A plethora of thoughts began infiltrating my otherwise stable mind. Mostly those chances I mentioned earlier. Is this dude gonna bitch rape me, make me squeal like a pig in heat? Damn man maybe he really is a serial killer planning on chopping me in pieces to hide me inside his furniture. Perhaps scheming to skin me alive to make a humanhide leather recliner chair for Franklin Furniture. Or he could just really just a lonely guy whose biggest thrill is when the new prime time TV season begins? Of course I was hoping for the latter but preparing for the former. Fate would really have a fucking laugh and a half if after all the crap I’ve been through I finally choose to get my shit together only to have me murdered in the State For Lovers. Irony at it’s most seductive. Probably have me die unceremoniously too, just a boring straight up kill. No cool ritual killing or sadistic torture to at least make my last breaths interesting. But fate would have to find someone else to play it’s practical joke on because it turned out Jeb was just a nice guy looking for some company to break up his mundane existence.
When Jeb got back in the truck we drove to a cemetery, which I admit at first gave me frightened goosebumps. They were groundless of course because it turned out to be Jeb’s favorite spot to sneak in a few beers before going home when he returns from trips. It was a desolate quiet area, no traffic, no people walking around, nothing but a bunch of dead bodies. Spooky, but sacrosanct. And anyway Hells Bells man free beer! I mean it’s not like I’m gonna give up every vice on earth. So it was we drank beer while chatting and laughing at just about anything and everything as if we were best friends. I suppose for that hour and a half we were best friends. Then again, best friends don’t normally do things like what Jeb did to me. After the two of us were bordering on total drunkenness nature called out to me. I got out to pee by a big old tree in wooded area not far from the truck. While I was answering natures call returning about half of the free beer I had just consumed Jeb started up his truck and took off. There I was holding my own. Literally! I cursed fate for having found a way to get a quick chuckle in.
First things first. A wiggle followed by a zip so I could assess my new situation. Drunk, alone in a cemetery in who knows where, no money, no ride, and as is normally the case in my shithole life, no hope. No fucking way! Not this time, not this bullshit again. Every time I make an effort to stand up reality knocks my ass down again leaving my head spinning in some unfamiliar place. Dammit I was so damn close this time. Out on I95 with the potential to be back home in a day or so ready to leave all the bad luck behind. I was gonna turn my life around again only this time it was for real. But Destiny is not just a stripper in the club, destiny is a mother fucker who holds a carrot of beer in front of a gullible weak willed freak with a sarcastic smile. No way, no sir, not this time Destiny, no bills in your G-string od life. I’m gonna sober up, figure out where the hell I am and get back on the road. In the dark! With a belly full of beer! From a Goddam cemetery!
I was walking down the dirt road peering at the oddly symbolic tombstones reaching up from the earth as I headed toward the main road in search of Same Old Shit Highway. You know what? Fuck this. I’m not having it. I am not gonna let this derail me. This fuck up is just another stanza in JT’s song. Well I ain’t singing the fucking woe is me blues anymore! I’m singing inspirational tonight. I said I would turn this bullshit around and turning it around is exactly what I’m gonna do. Right here right now. My slumped over defeated slow walk morphed into a quick paced confident strut as I headed out of the graveyard towards the highway. Two snaps a twirl and a pirouette just to prove my point. Very powerful! There was only one thing I had overlooked. I was drunk. My peacock proud strut hit a large stone and I stumbled forward falling face first into the sidewalk. The scrapes on my knee’s and elbows combined with the pain from a slight ankle twist were nothing compared to the bruise my ego took. I apparently had an audience.
A young couple had witnessed my fall from grace unaware of the significance of it having been a fall out of a cemetery onto the sidewalk. But they were a caring couple who came over helped me up then listened to my tale of woe, no embellishment needed, with tremendous empathy. Jim and Deb were a few years younger than me both working their way through college before getting married. If the future of America lies in the hands of people like them then I’m confident we will all be okay. Deb offered to clean my scrapes and Jim informed me he was leaving for Boston in the morning. They offered me up a nights sleep on their couch followed by a ride as far as New York City. It was all I could do to keep the estrogen that had been building up from pouring through in a flood of grateful tears. I accepted. By this time tomorrow I’ll be back in Long Island, or at the very least back in New York. I was on my path to getting my life in order. The three of us walked down the silent street until we reached their apartment. The thought never once occurred to me that they might be one of those dangerous options of chance I had so over-thought about when riding with Jeb.
TBC

The Continuing Adventures Of JT Hilltop/Prison Of Love

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prison

Breakfast with the beautiful southern belle police officer Josie “Sexy as Hell” Rae 930 at Waffle King. That didn’t leave me much time so as soon as I saw the lights turn on at Western Union I bolted inside. Amanda hooked me up with a hundred bucks which was like the third good thing to happen to me in the last 24 hours. Holy Jesus a trifecta, a good omen if ever there was three. Now I could afford a new shirt, sneakers, and still have enough left over for breakfast. Did I really offer dinner? What the Hell was I thinking? But that’s just it, I wasn’t thinking, this Josie Rae had me completely inside out. This is way more than just a little horny flirtation, although that wouldn’t be bad either. That said this feeling of cocoons opening up in my intestinal system was something I haven’t experienced in a long time. I haven’t felt like this since….Jesus shit man, …since Carrie! I’m not sure why I have this strange feeling but I did know one thing, I was gonna be at Waffle King by 930 come River Styx or high tide so I’d better get my ass moving.
I found a small clothing shop at the boardwalk which had mostly touristy shit but I was lucky enough to find a Jack Daniels Tee shirt to match my new Harley Davidson bandana. I ran up Ocean Blvd to a gas station and took a hobo shower in the bathroom actually using a bar of soap I bought at some weird store called Piggly Wiggly. I had also bought a tooth paste and shampoo and cleaned myself up as much as humanly possible inside a Shell gas station bathroom. I was feeling more than just positive, I was feeling damn near obsessed. I got directions to Waffle King and that’s exactly where I headed, this time leaving those annoying voices always putting me down at the gas station. Could this be love?
I got a nice table near the window, rearranged the waffle syrups four or six times and waited excitedly. When I spotted Josie Rae I was floored. Out of uniform she was even more stunning. Long curly blond hair that danced off her head, piercing green eyes and a small slightly upturned nose. Her smile re-opened the cocoons. She had on dark blue eye shadow and bright red lipstick. That look combined with the fact I knew she owned handcuffs tipped the scales of justice and I would confess to anything. A mysterious beauty. I couldn’t believe how smitten I had become. She looked at me with a very sexy leer and said, “Y’all have the right to remain silent. But if you do I’ll never shut up so y’all better be ready ta tell me things” She sat down and we began talking instantly as if we had known each other forever. We discussed cultural differences between north and south, compared similar experiences growing up, and every conversation came loose and easy. I had found a friend but was hoping for more. In an effort to feel her out I mentioned that I was only heading back to New York because I have nothing here. She smiled at me assuring me she could tell by the way I got ready for our date that I had nowhere to stay then she put it out there. “Well mister JT, if Y’all wanna come on home with me you can have yeself a nice hot shower and good nights sleep afore you go on yer way.” I tried to weigh the implication of intentions here but what did it matter. I win either way. If its just the plain offer it sounds like nothing lost and I leave fully refreshed, but if she’s hinting at something deeper, then I’ll go deep! “Josie Rae, I have to tell you I am whelmed. In fact I am overwhelmed. I was beginning to believe that the southern hospitality I’ve heard so much about was pure legend. I would appreciate that greatly.
As low as I was on funds I insisted on paying and as always left a nice tip. We left Waffle King and drove out of Myrtle beach towards Conway. She explained to me that Conway is much more real and much cheaper to live in than “The Beach”. We pulled into an apartment complex and her room was around back in what seemed like nowhere. The area’s around Myrtle Beach were remarkably poor, seriously impoverished area’s and this apartment which would have been basic back on Long Island was a luxury home by comparison. Once we got inside it was all I could do to stop myself from ruining everything by jumping on Josie. I maintained my composure as she went into her kitchen and pointed down the hall. “Woncha go on ahead an take a shower JT, I bet its been awhile since y’all felt a nice hot shower. I’ll git us some wine. Towels are under the sink.” She pushed me toward the bathroom and I worried maybe I was smelling ripe or something so I did as I was told and went right into the shower.
Its amazing how much we can take things for granted. The very second that hot water hit my hair and headed downward my attitude of gratitude returned. It was like the hot water was cascading onto my shoulders and chasing away all the negativity that had been clinging to me for so long then forcing it down the drain. As I peered down imagining all the bad shit running down the pipes a voice startled me. “Mind if I join ya?” I looked up and right in front of me was this beautiful angel with the sexiest southern drawl this side of Daisy Duke standing buck bone naked in front of me. Before either of us knew what was happening we were in a desperate lip lock with mouths open and tongues dancing. Embracing beneath a cascading stream of hot water I felt her body up against mine and within seconds she felt not only my body but my intentions. Rubbing our bodies together our tongues continued a desperate slippery tango and the most audible sound either of us could make were moans. I’ve heard people say they could hear fireworks going off from a kiss like this which is pretty damn accurate. My roman candle was reaching up anticipating an oncoming explosion that promised to find itself south of the border. We soaped and kissed, kissed and soaped and let me tell you if I died right then and there I’da died one happy man.
After a complete cleansing and drying we continued our assault of passion in Josies bedroom. Time ceased existing and we made love three times in a row while raising foreplay to an art form. We must have spent a few hours with very little talking, a whole lot of cuddling, and it was obvious to me we both benefited more than one orgasm. Now admittedly I hadn’t had sex in a few months so my libido was begging for release but it was far more than that. The tenderness, the closeness that had been absent from my life since Tina and I split. It was on a par with the love of my life Carrie. Not the third women to have sex with but perhaps the third woman to fall in love with. I was certain she was in love too and I was right, only it wasn’t with me. I had to remind myself to slow down because I had a reputation for falling in love with any female that shows me a modicum of attention.
After the sexual smoke cleared away the talking returned. It wasn’t good news. Josie Rae is engaged to be married. Her fiancé is away for three weeks training at some place called Quantico, some FBI training school or some shit. That hurt but Josie convinced me we can enjoy this small bit of time together before I head back home. When I thought about it I knew she was right, I had nothing to do, nowhere to be, and life has really sucked for the last two years, I deserve some great sex and the company of a beautiful woman if only for a short time. We agreed I would stay with her for two weeks but leave before her fiancé returned. That gave me plenty of time to get her to change her mind. Besides, if I can’t change her mind I’ll want a head start if a well trained FBI dude learns I’ve been boning his bride to be.
So it was I became a kept man, at least for the next two weeks. Josie and I really connected. I wasn’t ready to give it up. I stayed at home while she worked and cooked us breakfast or dinner. On nights she had off we went out dancing, on nights she worked we sat in and had wine, sex, and talk into the afternoon. Towards the end of our time together the conversation of us as a couple kept sneaking in.
“You know JT, I really does like y’all but I caint git outta what Im into. Tell y’all the truth I aint even shore if I loves Randall. It’s juss the way things is here hon, when a feller asks you at marry an your fokes want you to marry him you jess do.” The cultural divide was clear and quite probably freedom of her culture is the one thing I may represent to her that will convince her to stay with me. “That may be how it is around here Josie babe, but not back where I’m from. A girl cn do what she wants and date who she wants. Nobody tells a New York girl how to live her life. Why don’t you come back to New York and try that for a while?” Back and forth for days, neither of us giving in on the future but both of us giving our all in the bedroom. I prayed for time to go as slow here as it had when I was in prison, but time sucks. Instead it flew by.
Unfortunately that inevitable moment arrived. We both knew it was coming. Time for JT to leave and move on to the next adventure. Only thing is this time I wasn’t really sure if I wanted a new adventure. More unsettling was I still wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about Jo. Could it be love? Maybe. Not the traditional type of love but a strange and alluring love that grabs hold while your not paying attention and digs its roots deep into your soul. Our love story was a short story with the end written before it even began. A love story who‘s destiny it was to fail. It started as a time bomb of sexual tensions that made good on its promise to fulfill both our intense needs and then it was supposed to fizzle out. That was all it was supposed to be, two lovers sharing the comfort of each other for just a short time. But the sexual volcano erupted and the lava it released was strong and unfamiliar. Is this an emotional attachment? Not good! Not good at all!
We agreed from the start that before her boyfriend Randall got back home I would leave willingly as we would go our separate ways. I was sort of okay with that. No attachments, no bullshit, not strings. At the time it seemed like a good idea but I never considered that my emotions would sprout into a giant beanstalk in two short weeks and stick my head up in the clouds. I mean sex without commitment should be a young mans dream. And the sex was good, god damn was it good. Reckless abandon? That was an understatement! We often put the music on real loud to drown out our very expressive sexually motivated squeals and promises. I can’t even remember half the shit I said but the half I do remember was pretty much the both of us pleading gods name over and over louder than I ever heard before. So often and so loud you would’ve thought we were staging a Oh God Yes born again revival.
The fact that no strings were attached made it intriguing even though I dug her so much from the start. I knew when the time came I could leave no problem. That is I thought I knew. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way but I was pretty sure I did love Jo. I reasoned I was just not in love with her. At least I didn’t think I was. She understood the dark side of me the way Tina had, she fulfilled me emotionally the way Carrie had, yet I knew from the start she was unattainable. Maybe that was it, maybe just wanting something I know I can’t have is what’s driving these feelings?! One thing I was certain of is Josie and I were really good together. Our feelings for each other went so deep. Our conversations went deep. And the sex, well….deep! But it was time to discard the emotions and say good by. Who knew it would be so difficult. We laid naked in bed in a satiated silence after what was presumably our final high energy fling. Anyway we went at it as if it were our last time either of us would ever make love again in our lives. So much determination and passion we were motionless for over an hour before she spoke.
“JT Sweetie, I sweer I ain’t never gonna firget you baby. But y’all known Randall is coming back inna few days and its bess fir us both if y’all be long gone fore then.” She placed her head on my chest using her soft curls as a pillow. She tenderly reached around my shoulder to lightly scratch the back of my neck. “Why does it have to end Jo? Why can’t you come up north with me?” She moved her hand to my lips, “Shush now Justin, y’all know that caint happen. Things is way differnt down here baby. Things is expected of a gurl down here. My Mama won’t never furgive me an my Papa, well Papa ain‘t one to anger up none.…Ya don’t wanna be puttin no bee in Papa’s bonnet Honey J. I juss caint do that, my future got be with Randall. It’s done been determined already. Thats the way its spose to go. I got to think about the future.” I placed my arms around her and planted her head firmly between my neck and chin to caress her with my cheek. “It doesn’t have to go like that. You in can be in charge of your future. You can make your own choices. There ain’t no reason you can’t leave here. Hell baby child even if its not with me why get married to someone you don’t love? Trust me, that shit don’t end well at all, I been there and it sucks.” I could feel a tear on her cheek. She sat up, “JT, that’s not how life is here in Conway South Carolina. I gotta answer to Jesus. I know y’all don unerstand that but it means a lot here Baby Boy. A girls folks expeck her to marry the man they wants fur her to marry, have chillen and raise them to fear the lord. Womens don’t get to do no choosin’ round here and that’s okay, way its always done been. A girls don’t wanna have no bad past cuz a past can foller her around an make her life horrible if she goes against thangs. My past is determining my future, and my past is with Randall so my future gone be with him too. Mommy an Daddy like him an he‘s gun be a good supporter. So now my future got to go that way, Sugarpie. Don’t matter none what I want.” I looked at her incredulously. “That’s not true Jo it matters very much what you want. Its your life pretty girl. Your past only determines who you were not who you are. Its what leads you to your present but it sure ain‘t who you are today. You can’t live in the past Babydoll that’s over. Your past is gone, you own your future and if you want your future to be with me all you need do is say so.” I gently kissed her on the temple. “Listen to your heart Jo, what’s your heart saying? The heart knows because the heart lives in the present and begs you for a future. A future that you want, not what god or Jesus or your mom and dad want, but what Josie Rae wants! You’re not defined by your past and you can rewrite your future Sweet Thing. Listen to your heart. I think I hear it whispering my name.” She smiled a half smile that told me a hundred sad stories. The story of the past two weeks being over, o a girl and a boy sharing the most perfect moment in time before time runs out. The story of a beautiful girl who is chained to a pre-determined destiny and is not willing to break free. It teased her with what could be while at the same time mercilessly reminded her of her fate. It told of deep stories of sadness and defeat, told by a lonely girl who believes she has no control over her own life so she‘s giving up. Stories of things gone by and things to come, but not the story of the now, the right here. No stories of a happy ever after with me or of endless possibilities. The smile was fighting a sadness underneath below a profound stare with eyes that confirmed her feeling of hopelessness. “Weeze all defined by our pasts JT, ain’t none of us can rewrite the future no matter how much we want to. The heart lives in the present but its afraid of breaking. Like mine is right this second. I dint never spect this to be so hard baby. I aint even sure how it happened, but we had us two weeks of bliss and I ain‘t sorry bout a second of it. But it got an endin sugar, I‘m sorry but as much as it hurts me this song is got to be over. Every song ends. I done wannit to stop neither but that’s my life honeypie. Things happen for a reason an we juss gotta figger out what the reason fur us was.”
We embraced deep in thought for a few minutes. This feeling was so foreign to me. Fuck man, am I starting to grow up? I’m not sure why but I still wasn’t ready to let this all just slip away, “Jo baby listen” I sat up and took her hands in mine. We stared into each others soul with piercing compassion. Our eyes embraced. “The past doesn’t matter Josie Rae. You done things in the past and I done things in the past but that’s history, not destiny. Maybe its our destiny to look beyond our pasts and think about a future. I never really thought that things happen for a reason, like fate or anything. I always believed everything was random and just happened. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe shits not just random. All the things that happened to me were so we could meet. That’s why I took a trip with people I knew I had no business being with. That’s why I got busted and stuck in jail. To meet you. I learned a lot about myself doing my time in prison. Maybe I was in prison to straighten my head and to get ready for you and me.” Now her smile was thoughtful, she was fully aware she was in complete control of everything. One of the things I love about her. (did I say love?) “Sweetie, you wasn’t in no prison. You was in jail Baby Boy. You spent time incarcerated in a southern jail, and maybe you sure enough did do some growin there, but it was just a jail, not a prison. People like you an me we own our prisons. We carry our prisons right here on our backs. It sure nuff don’t seem right but thets how it is fur us dreamers. We dream but we ain’t never in control of our dreams, not really. Way I figger it weeze born with these prisons on our backs, you an me. We live with them an they done remin us that no matter how hard we believe, we ain’t in control of nuthin. We likely carry’em tar graves. And we been out of our prisons for two glorious weeks, maybe the best two weeks of my life. Leastwise the happiest. That’s what I got from you hon, an that’s gun be my most precious memory. You freed me from my prison but it’s still here a waitin, right there on my back. An I got to carry it agin an agin, cuz its my prison. I sure hope it was like heaven fir you too JT. For the last two weeks Justin you let me out of prison and I will always be thankful for that. But I got to pick my prison back up tomorrow, and I recon you gonna fine yersff someone you can live with too, an you‘ll live with your prison still on yer back. Leastwise I recon you will. Lets juss firget all bout this now an just be happy with each other one last time. Lets make love once more afore you leave.”
I had no argument left, she was right. I wasn’t ready to become a good provider like Randall. I didn’t belong here and Josie doesn’t belong in New York. I do carry my prison on my back, I always had. Besides, over time she would get tired or bored of me, or worse, something bad would happen to her. No one stays with JT. Not for long anyway. That was my prison, a life that’s a plague of death or abandonment. Like I always seem to do I got hung up on someone that leaves my life. Then I push them away like I did with Carrie and Tina, or they just leave on their own like Joe, James, Ken, Bill, June, and even my mom. I put them aside and thought about the past two weeks and I gave her the most passionate kiss I was capable of. Then we made love. We made love for over an hour, not with reckless abandon this time, but with slow calculated lasting tenderness. When we finished we wrapped our arms around each other and fell asleep. We never spoke another word to each other.
When I woke up it was six o’clock so I quietly got out of bed and kissed Josie Rae Sessions on the cheek and whispered, “I don’t care what you say pretty girl, I’ll always love you.” I could swear she smiled but whether she did or not, the only fair thing for me to do for her was to exit quietly. At that moment I had truly matured. I knew I was growing up because I loved her and that’s why I had to let her go. That’s how deep my love went. I quietly let her go as I tip-toed away with my heart shattered in pieces. I would only prolong her pain and make it worse if I continued to be selfish. Sacrifice. Love comes with consequences. You gamble on some pain to enjoy the ultimate pleasure. But like everything else in my twisted world it ends. I learned a lot. How much love really can hurt, how my love for one woman could be so strong I would willingly break my own heart to allow her to follow hers. I also ;learned love never stays. Right or wrong it wasn’t for me to choose. I had my own life to focus on now. I washed up, got dressed and left. Maturity is soooo overrated. I walked out the door with exactly what I had arrived with two weeks ago, my wallet, my clothes, and the prison on my back.
TBC

The Continuing Adventures Of JT Hilltop, JT Hits The Beach

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beach

Even with my new bucket of hope and a full stomach Myrtle Beach fared no better. It seemed like everyone is looking to make a buck and few willing to part with them. I did however finally get a piece of advice that was worth listening to. I was directed toward the boardwalk and told to make sure I stopped into the Gay Dolphin to do some shopping. I admit having reservations about the shopping at first, I mean what the hell kind of store calls itself a gay porpoise. Not to mention I wasn’t rolling in money but the boardwalk did sound like my kind of place. We had some fantastic boardwalks on Long Island, Robert Moses and Jones Beach come to mind plus I had been to the grand daddy of boardwalks in Atlantic City New Jersey. Honestly though I gotta tell ya the Myrtle Beach boardwalk was pretty spectacular. Maybe it was just being at a beach again, maybe it was just being somewhere different, but whatever it was the fucking boardwalk was amazing. Full of happy people, hot looking young ladies and studly young men, old and young all decked in the latest in beachwear fashion. To my ocular enjoyment many of the ladies were clad in really tight bathing suits and after spending a month in a testosterone overloaded penal community even the ladies that may have been better off not having chosen such a snug fit looked great. As for the dudes they were all mostly tanned and toned and I suppose the ladies eyeballs enjoyed that. Although a few of the dudes did reveal far too much packaging for my eyes. Not everyone was decked out in the latest in appropriate beachwear fashion there were some definite fashion don’ts, women who were in need of more covering and men who should have considered showing less body hair and more body clothing.
The Gay Dolphin was a four or five story impressive looking glass shop but it was clearly a tourist stop filled with touristy crap. Walking on the boardwalk I found some other s shops that were great, all kinds of food and touristy clothing one shop in particular caught my eye. A Harley Davidson accessory store right there on the boardwalk. It was like a Beverly Hillbilly epiphany when it called my name, “JT, come on in, take yer shoes off an stay awhile!”
With only my emergency four dollars in my wallet I found what would one day become a family heirloom. An orange Harley bandana with a black stitching of a bike chain and the HD logo. For three seventy five it was a steal, which also crossed my mind but the last thing I needed was a shop-lifting beef on top of what I just went through. Despite being hungry and wanting a beer I blew my emergency money on a fashion statement.
I spent the day at the beach my head proudly protected by my new bandana and was living the dream in South Carolina. I was feeling great and free, so happy that nothing could rain on my parade. Well except for rain that is. A storm blew in off the ocean causing a massive chaotic rush off the beach. Like Mary’s lost lamb I followed the crowd without a clue where we were all going. With in the realm of three minutes or so it had gone from a warm sunny day, to a dark dampish day, to a rainfall, then ultimately to a downpour of rain that put on an incredible light show and thunderous stereo speaker worthy explosions. My brand new bandana was soaked in seconds. The rain came down cold drenching me and causing me to see if steam was coming of my previously sun-warmed body. People were scampering all over the place in what seemed to be chaotic. I ran under the boardwalk to seek shelter from the storm because it was a hard, hard rain gonna fall. The beach had pretty much cleared out and I sat with a few hundred ex-beachcombers waiting for the sun wondering who‘ll stop the rain. Despite all the rock and roll references I whispered to no one in particular, “fuck me”
The storm was mercifully quick but it’s effect was staggering. In it’s short half hour existence at Myrtle Beach it had created an entire new environment. The waves were choppy, the sand was dark gray and the texture of moist grainy mud. It smelled of wet sage and waffles. The boardwalk was in the process of becoming deserted as most of the people headed out to their hotels or homes or wherever. All that remained were a few hardcore surfers, hardcore beachcombers, and one lonely hardcore Long Islander who was starving once again as I had been unsuccessful at finding my old friend or making any new ones. Alone, re-depressed, and soaked to the bone I pointed myself towards the town, hung my head and meandered down the next path of my unscripted journey.
I couldn’t go back to KFC despite my hunger and it being as tempting as it was to scrounge another bucket of hope. Karma dictates storing the memory and being grateful not greedy. Time to move on and find the next experience. After tossing the idea around my head for a few hours I finally decided I needed to call my sister Amanda and plead with her to send me a little money so I can eat and begin hitchhiking back to Centerlawn. It was getting late and after following directions from a local man I found the local Western Union building. I found a pay phone down the block, called Amanda collect, and she promised to send me one hundred dollars under the one condition that I visit her before going back to Long Island. Under the circumstances it was impossible not to promise anything. All in all things were looking up. Over the next fifteen minutes I convinced myself this was the start of a phenomenal turn around and I would soon be back on track with my life. Brimming with both bravado and confidence I walked up to the doors of Western Union to pick up the money Amanda sent me. I took a deep breath preparing for my big turnaround and grabbed the handle of the door. Even with my newfound strength the door wouldn’t open. No need for a telegram to get the message. The door was locked, the building closed.
“What?! Six o’clock! Who closes at six o’clock?” Yes that’s right, the Western Union in Myrtle Beach South Carolina closes at six o’clock and it was now ten minutes past six. Disillusioned but not ready to give up I altered my strategy. Western Union opens at eight in the morning and I’ll be the first in line when it does. Just as if I was camping out in line for Grateful dead tickets I sat myself with all my meager belongings next to the door and would just sit right here until it opens in the AM. I was a tad exhausted so I closed my eyes and before I realized it I fell asleep. I woke up completely unaware of what time it may be and probably a bit confused of where I was at first.
Time passes remarkably slow when your on a cement slab listening to all the night insects and animals around. The alligators and frogs kept running around in my imagination and it wasn’t long before they were joined by rats, wolves, vultures, and maniac serial killers. Lions, and tigers and bears oh my. A sudden beam of light scared everything away. The beam was headed my way bouncing around the ground near my feet. I could tell it was coming from a flashlight. I rubbed my eyes and all I could see in the darkness was a figure in uniform. The way things have been going it had to be a cop shining the flashlight at my crumpled up self. Just fucking great I thought, the poe leece!
To my complete shock it was a sweet southern female voice that traveled into my auditory canal. “Are you allright there sir?” She called me sir which was a good sign. I hoped I remembered how to be charming, “Oh yes maam, yes I’m all right. I have an early morning meeting with a moneygram here at Western Union and I wanted to be sure I didn‘t miss it. You know, just in case I find a nice South Carolina Southern Belle to take to dinner tonight.” Truth told I have no clue what came over me. I can only assume I was either over horny or over compensating because a female cop both frightened and enticed me at the same time. “Hmmm, a nice southern belle huh? Y’all ain’t from round here, I kin tell that, whar y’all hail from?” Moment of truth. Say New York and its either real good or real bad. I got a quick look at her through the moonlight while also slightly challenged by her flashlight beam. Hard to judge her body all bulked up with cop stuff but there was what appeared to be bundled up curls of blond hair sticking from under her cap. I swore to myself she was beautiful. But again, my view was somewhat challenged and looks meant shit right now. Charm was what I needed to keep me out of trouble. There was a slightly playful tone to her beautiful southern drawl so I went with my northern charm instinct. “New York born and bred maam.” She gave me a smile that near melted my heart, “New York huh? What brings you round here at our beach? You know we gots the moes beautiful beach inna country.” I was enjoying this, I haven’t had contact with anyone outside of prison in over a month, “Well it sure is a pretty beach and I must admit your city is full of pretty women.” A quick flirt glance, “I’m an out of work chef looking for a job.” What in the hell possessed me to do or say that? “Well we could sure use us some good chefs here in Myrtle Beach. Wyoncha consider stayin round here awhile?” I was unsure what was happening to me but I was no longer in control of my vocal chords, “You know I might just do that. My name is Justin, er, JT actually, and the truth is I was left stranded here in South Carolina. I don’t know anyone here but I’m looking for a friend.” Time to place the flirt-inator in her direction. “Well Hon I’d shur like tah be ya first friend here, my name’s Josie Rae.” She stuck out her hand to shake so I got a closer look at her. Sure enough long blond hair tucked up into a police cap, and like I said a uniform that hides curves but man was she pretty. I held her hand a bit too long, “Are ya scared of me?” Like an idiot I kept our hands moving up and down in some sort of hand trance, “No maam, I’m not miss Josie Rae.” She smiled, “Then why you still shakin’ Hon?” That did it! I was hooked. Pretty, funny, sarcastic, what else could I possibly hope for? I let go of her hand, “Oh I’m sorry, I’m just not used to such a gorgeous police officer interrogating me. Perhaps you would like to interrogate me over dinner?” Those damn vocal chords are out of control. She took out a small pad and began writing, “I’m not sure about dinner Hon but I tell ya what. My shift ends at nine and I might be tempted into some breakfast at the Waffle King up the road on 17 roundabout 930. Here’s my number. If I don’t see y’all there y’all best be on yer way back to New York cause I’m likely to come hunt ya down an run y’all out of town mahseff.” She tossed me an impish smile, “Now y’all keep yerseff outta trouble there Mr. JT, don’t wanna hafta come back an lock you up. Lest wise not in jail.” She walked away. I was so excited I couldn‘t think straight .
TBC

How Ya Gonna Keep Em Down On The Farm After They’ve Cooked Puree

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cook

the continuing adventures of J T Hilltop’s Potsink Diary
From pots and pans to rakes and snakes I took to landscaping fairly well. Sun burnt arms instead of grease burnt arms, just as hot as a kitchen, and about as physically as taxing yet still I missed cooking. It‘s been three months since the restaurant closed and fate stuck its fickle finger in my life interrupted my path to culinary enlightenment. Leaving me to care for the property of a nursing home and placing me every day at lunch just outside of the kitchen where the sounds of culinary exploits pounded out a rhythm of longing. It stirred inside of me making me miss working in a kitchen with all my soul. Aware of that fate wasn’t done tossing curve balls at my life because on one Monday I learned just what a practical joker fate can really be. Apparently destiny is equipped with a bag full of tricks containing an abyss of irony and has a knack for playing emotional table tennis with me. Like a ping pong ball I got paddled back and forth hard forcing me out of the restaurant across the net to a field of hard labor, then smashed back into another kitchen. Fred had driven me to Mimi Dee’s early in the morning to manicure the lawn while he ran about town “performing” some chores. Popular belief growing on the rumor vine claimed those chores he performed were for one of the nurses at the Huntersville location. Whatev, not my business and besides it was fine by me as it left me alone to work the property at my own pace.
Left to my resources, my new tools of the trade, and a cheap lawnmower I set out to give the yard a neat trimming and edging. A mani-pedi for the acreages of land. An hour and a half into my solo performance was the moment fate chose to sneak an ominous looking dark cumulo nimbus cloud slithering across the horizon setting up cloud camp above my head. One loud crack of sneering thunder and a few seconds later I was the focus of a drenching downpour. Not a dipping of the toe in the pool, but one soaked to the bone bucket full of rainwater followed by another. The skies blushed dark crimson as if foretelling the twisted new path fate had in store. Having become somewhat intimate with fates and destinies I had to assume that this new path would be lined with irony. “Jesus Christ this shit’s really coming down. Can’t get anything more done here so I guess I should go inside.” I mumbled it to myself to validate it was proper for me to stop work an seek shelter. As soon as I entered the back door a very familiar sense filled the room. The clanging of pots and pans as they jockeyed for position on the stove, plates chattering while being pulled and stacked from the dishwasher, and a general sense of culinary atmosphere called me by name. A private culinary symphony all for me supplied by that devious enigma called fate. The air was full with the smells of a variety of meats and vegetables with wafts of consommé memories from a large pot of chicken infused liquid hoping to one day soon become a soup. The smells and sounds were the familiar frantic state of culinary urgency shortly before service. The aura of intense pressure was reminiscent of Cavalieri’s restaurant, my one time Mecca. It was crunch time even in this institutional kitchen and I was so taken aback by my memories I shook off the rain and blurted out to the Nurse in charge of the kitchen, “Can I help? I know a bit about food.” Without a smile a very attractive Jamaican woman in a not very sexy nurses uniform yelled “I need zeese onions peeled and cut, tink you could a’handle dat?” Nary a word more need be spoken as I rushed over to the table with the onions, grabbed a familiar feeling knife and pulled out a cutting board. In a matter of minutes I had peeled, cored, and diced the onions. “What else do you need?” The Nurse stopped in mid stride and asked “You gotta all dem onions done?” I could tell she was doubting me so I held them up and said “Yup, where do you want them?” She smiled at me with a huge open mouth and I noticed a small gap in her front teeth. Suddenly something seemed more sexy about her despite the uniform. As I looked closer I realized the uniform fit pretty tight allowing me a gratuitous view of her shape. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, slender and very pretty with firm looking curves in all the right places. Her skin was smooth and silky with an exotic ebony glow. She looked at me approvingly with dark brown eyes that twinkled sweetly in contrast to the sharp authority she normally displayed on the staff. “Put day inna pot dare witt dee carrots.” When I asked her if she wanted a mirepoix I thought she was gonna run over and kiss me full on the lips. Maybe I hoped she would but either way she flashed me that huge tiny tooth gapped smile. “You do know your way round de kitchen. My name is Margie and yes, I needa celery in dare too. Tink you canna hanel dat?” Time to respond with my innuendo laced charm, “I can handle whatever you got Margie. My name is JT.” She teased back, “Zhay Tee huh? What kina name is dot, can‘t afford whole name? ” It was feeling good, cooking and flirting again, “My real name is Justin, but my friends call me JT because I am Just Thrilling to be with. It seems we are friends now so I guess you should call me JT.” “Yes indeed it do Mr. Trilling. I tink maybe we work well togetter.” She punctuated her statement with a suggestively tender wink. I won’t tell you my thoughts at that moment but they would make a beet blush. It felt great as I assisted Margie in the kitchen getting lunch together quickly and efficiently while the rain continued to pound on the back door just begging to come in for a visit. I smiled at how great it was to be back in a kitchen cooking and flirting again.
After lunch I helped clean up then went outside to put away the tools I had abandoned in the storm since the rain ended as abruptly as it had begun. As I was surveying the yard deciding what else I could do before Fred got back when I heard someone yelling my name. Margie was calling me from the front door of the mansion. When I got there she smiled a huge smile saying to me “I got some good news for you Zhay. I jus talk ‘a Misser Viero an him say you canna work here wit us inna de kitchen and aroun’ de home full time. We canna use the help and you no have to work inna da rain no more. What jew tink Jussa trilling?” There it was. Right there fate dangled its fickle tickle of decision in front of me chuckling at what ominous repercussions would come of my choice. But was it a choice or had fate already made up my mind for me? If I say I would love to Fred will be mad but if I say no I will be saying no to old man Viero and who says no to an owner? Yes also means no more shit spreading, being back in a kitchen, and the chance to do some more serious flirting. Round the clock nurses aides as well as a kitchen job. It really had felt awesome working in the kitchen with Margie. I could definitely see myself working with her and her crew of nurses. Not to mention all the young chicks who help her which I would be working with. Okay, go ahead and mention it I know I will. True I have a steady girlfriend and all, but like my Mom says, “You can look at the menu as long as you remember what your entrée is.” Not sure exactly what she meant but give her credit for trying to speak restaurantese to me. Decision was made while fate laughed. “I think I would really like that Margie, when can I start?” She looked as excited as I was and told me I should finish out the week with Fred and start next Monday. Once school starts we will work out a weekend and afternoon schedule. My new job would be to maintain the inside of the home, help in the kitchen and whatever assistance the nurses may need. All in all it seemed like it was nothing but gold, at least until I learned what new adventures were in store for me. I neglected to remind myself that things were not always what they seemed but that’s okay, I would find out in good time what new tricks fate had in store for me to tickle its devilish funny bone. As intimate as I thought I was with fate I never realized it was planning to teach me about some new adventures which would include urine stains and enema’s. I still had a lot to learn.
TBC

Whats A Nice Guy Like You Doing In A Jail Like This? pt1

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rewrite

Welcome to South Carolina, take your handcuffs off and stay awhile, hear?

A rewrite to JT Hilltops great American novel “Zen and The Art of Culinary Maintenance”

Here I was on the first day as I moved into my new digs, a guest suite in the local detention center of Aiken County South Carolina. I remembered having detention in high school. Often! It’s a form of scholastic punishment for any of a variety of mischievous and normally mundane infractions. Detention in my high school was even nicknamed “Brig” to accentuate the feeling of being locked away. This however, was quite a different form of detention. Instead of sitting in a room with the other shenanigan producing student inmates forced to pretend we were working on homework after school I was given my very own guest suite. It wasn’t an especially large room in fact I’ve seen studio apartments ten time the size and this particular living arrangement came fully furnished yet totally unadorned. I suppose you could say it was decorated in minimalist style, complete with four bare walls, a stainless steel toilet and sink, a pamphlet thin mattress on a wooden platform with a polyester sheet and Government issue wool blanket, and…..well actually, that was it. That was the extent of the furnishings, all the comforts of home for a down and out hermit. Whatever the case it was to be my new living arrangements for the next thirty days. So here I am, this young suave New Yorker, locked up somewhere in the deep south where I feared I may never be heard from again. The pace in this city, I think I heard it called Grandmaville, or Grannyville or some shit was anything but urgent. Great, I thought to myself, here I am in Petticoat fucking Junction. There’s Uncle Joe he’s a movin’ kinda slow!” Somewhere between Mayberry and Hootersville. “Jesus shit,” I thought, “Not a familiar face anywhere and not a single person left to turn to.” Thirty days in this hell hole with no beer, no weed, not even a fucking TV to help pass the time. Just me, myself and….and a band of hillbilly cops. Actually, I wasn’t completely alone, it was kind of a low life criminal condo.
Along with yours truly, and against their wills as well, were five “block” mates each with their very own sardine can housing unit and each sizing up this long haired city boy. I could tell they were wondering what skyscraper it was that I crawled out from under. I was relatively certain I detected a mix of urban admiration and good ole boy Yankee hatred, but I may have been setting their intelligence bar higher than I should have. Having been in the wrong bar at the wrong time on occasion I instinctively I understood the importance of establishing the “upper hand”. I had heard some of the other detainees, let’s call them “Inn” mates, refer to the guards as“turn-key”. So it was time to establish my dominance with my jailors while developing my “street credentials” with my new roomies. I determined that a perfect place to start was right this very moment by showing these local yokel criminals how we do it up north in the big city. So in my toughest NYC voice I let out an authoritative directive. “Ay Oh, Turn-key. Yea you in the uniform over thar, I need to make my phone call.” I had attempted to inject just the perfect modicum of disdain and rebellion as was necessary to achieve my goal of upmanship. An awkward silence befell the cellblock and I‘m not 100% sure but I believe I felt a slight wind from the eyes of my roomies opening wide in astonished disbelief. I was half expecting Barney Fife to come take me to a phone but instead a burly mean looking police officer began to stare at me with such a deadpan sarcastic glare I almost felt jealous. I’m from New York, where sarcasm is taught in kindergarten and is a second language. This dude had such killer swagger in his walk he read me a cynical short story without even uttering a single word. I began to wonder if I was taking the proper approach or if I should rethink my technique. It was then that this komodo dragon in uniform began to saunter quickly in my direction with a slow and deliberate pace that screamed “What we have here is a failure to communicate.” The oily haired officer got his face as close to mine as humanly possible and just stared at me a moment. I could feel his smoky foul breath dancing across my cheeks and I felt the lashes of his eyes as they blinked. Little hard eye hairs that could successfully cleaned under his fingernails if he had the gumption to appear clean. I had a sudden and humbling movie memory penetrate my tough NYC exterior and turn me into shimmering mass of spineless amoeba. “Suey, let me hear you scream suey!” Before my ‘Deliverance’ became a reality I attempted to coax myself back from my baseless paranoia and re-establish control. Oh Hell, stop thinking like that and get your shit together tough guy. You faced bigger opponents in Spanish Harlem just three days ago. You’ve spent countless hours in a Pagan Motorcycles Club bar. You have faced off with New York City detectives. Not very successful with the detectives, but stood up none the less. Well maybe stood up was not the right term, more like whimpered through a face full of mace as I dropped to my knee’s, but I did get a kiss my ass pig in which my friends found impressive a few days later from the safety of our hometown bar. I gave my head a hair clearing shake, swallowed hard and began to feel like I was back in charge again. Apparently, none of this impressed Sergeant Komodo Dragon. He began to speak, and I swore the voice was the same voice I recalled from that scene in Deliverance. “Say what boy?…. Did I hear you say turn-key you long haired New Yoke piece o’ shit? Are y‘all gonna tell me y‘all came alla way from da big apple jess at git an ass kicking here in Aikon County?” I couldn’t help but detect a certain note of arrogance and alarming disdain in his voice. But alas it was too late the drama had begun. I sensed that any second now the proverbial pig shit was headed directly in the vortex of the rotary oscillator. And the fan was humming a darkly ominous Dixie tune! The two of us stared each other down for a minute and the silence raised to a tense ear shattering level that damn near burnt my ears. Then as if right on cue a big shit eating “who the fuck does you think your dealing with” sardonic grin broke out on his upper lip, quickly spread across his jaw until cynicism took over his entire face. He gave my solar plexus a formal introduction to his police baton with a shit kicker smile of an exclamation point. Now I am staring directly into this shit eating evil Cheshire Cat’s angry eyes and what’s most obvious is that it’s giving off some very serious vibe implications. I had to think quick to get out of this predicament, to ease the tensions and repair the relationship with my captor while not losing face with my new room mates. Something big and potentially life altering was about to go down. But let me back up a bit and explain how I even came to be here in the first place.

The Legend Of Streaking Beauty

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From The Sick Bastards Fairly True Fairy Tale Series

Once or twice upon a time, in the Kingdom of Warner, King Stephan and Queen Leah (once a princess a long time ago, far far away in another galaxy) were unsuccessfully attempting to have a child. They wanted a daughter in the worst way so they could betroth her to soon to be born son of King Stephan of The Time Kingdom. They were hoping to merge the two Kingdoms into one huge kingdom, The Time/Warner Kingdom which would make it the biggest kingdom on Fairy Wall Street. After numerous unsuccessful attempts at making love on pink frilly sheets Stephan decided to try the Sting School of Tantric Sex. One lesson was performed in Finland during the Aurora borealis. They meditated out in the cold prior to having sex and despite the incredible phenomenon known as shrinkage Leah was impregnated that evening. Their child was named Aurora because she was conceived amid the Northern Lights.
Both kingdoms were excited by the news. The King and Queen proclaimed a holiday to christen their new Princess and announced the plans of the arranged marriage at a future date. They invited all the royalty from around the country, as well as hundreds of other guests. Everyone who was anyone was in there. Also in attendance for the christening were three members of the cast of “The Real Fairy-Wives of New Storyville” Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather. They had a table in front and were having a wonderful time exchanging rumored gossip while drinking buckets of alcohol. Stephan and Leah brought the new Princess Aurora to the table to receive gifts from the fairies. Flora gave the child the gift of a beautiful face, long flowing hair, perfect features, and lips that would never be in need of botox. Fauna was next, offering the child a future of a killer body, large round voluptuous breasts, a figure to die for without having to be on a celery diet, and long legs that would one ay make Price Phillip ecstatic when they were wrapped around him. When Merryweathers turn to offer a gift came around the conviviality of the room was disturbed by a booming and very angry voice, “You had a goddamn party an didn’t invite me? You bitches.” the room grew awkwardly silent when Merryweather spoke out, “Oh eat shit Maleficent, nobody want s your fat ass here. You’re a just two faced slut looking to bang anyone’s husband but your own. You weren’t invited because no one likes you.” Maleficent was livid as she grabbed the lip of the table tossing everything up into the air. She literally turned the table on her so called friends laughing as all the glasses and plates crashed to the floor breaking up into hundreds of pieces. “Ha! Nobody wants me here huh you bitch? Well then I should give this little twat her present before I leave.” She looked at the helpless child, “You’ll be beautiful and have a sexy body allright, but how’s this fort a present! You will finger a prick while on a spinning wheel and die before sunset on your sixteenth birthday.” Maleficent cast the curse then stormed out amongst a roomful of gasps. Merryweather walked over to the princess, “My blessing is not strong enough to break her curse but I can lessen it a bit. I will have her sentence reduced from the death penalty to deep sleep with chance of parole by true loves kiss. You must then run naked through the kingdom.” Stephan and Leah just stared angrily at Merryweather who responded, “What? it’s the best I can do I’m no miracle worker. I’m not the one who neglected to invite her.” The die was cast.
In an attempt to disguise their daughter they entered her into the witless protection program under the name Briar Rose, and was relocated to a woodsmans cottage outside of town. The three cast members of fairy wives that where at the heart of all the trouble gave up their designer wardrobe and went disguised as Walmart shoppers to watch over her. They promised to return after her 16th birthday (once they burner their low class clothes and got decked out). If they kept it secret Aurora would be safe from the curse. Maleficent went nuts trying to figure out where the princess was being hidden but had no luck. She finally hired a private investigator from Nevermore associates. Nevermore use avian drones disguised as ravens which had been very effective for many others.
The raven drone had lots of aerial pictures but nothing that Google earth couldn’t have provided until the one day when Briar Rose decided to go into town. It was the day before her 16th birthday and she wanted to get herself a treat. The three masquerading diva’s accompanied her to watch over her, but Fauna went to Manolo Blaniks store, Flora was coerced by Merryweather to go to Sax Fifth Ave leaving Briar on her own. With the fairy wives occupied Briar Rose seized the opportunity and went down to the teen hangout, Pogo‘s Froyo. There at the counter with a red velvet frozen yogurt covered in butterfingers was Phillip. The sight got Briar Rose a bit flustered an when Phillip turned an saw her he dropped his pants. No no!! His yogurt, he dropped his yogurt, sorry. Anyway, when the silver spoon from Phillips yogurt hit the ground sparks flew an their eyes met. Love at first sight. (Hey, it’s a fairy tale!) They went for a walk singing love songs to each other. Even the bluebirds sang.
Phillip told his ole man who flipped out. “First of all Phil, she’s from a poor family, and anyway, you are marrying Aurora after the curse is over. You my son, will be the CEO of Time Warner Kingdom.” Briars story fared no better an the pair were told to forget about love. Briar cried but guessed they were right.
The raven drone recorded the entire incident, and flew it back immediately to Maleficent via the NSA. She recognized her former co stars all dressed in atrociously drab clothing and knew instantly that the little slut they were with must be the princess. She quickly created a devious and dastardly plot. As the trio attempted to sneak Briar into the palace to celebrate her sweet sixteen Mallie lured the girl through a magic fireplace into a room with a spinning wheel and a naked man, the man she ha fallen in love with. She noticed he was in a trance yet still getting hard and Mallie said, “Go ahead my dear, touch it, he’ll love you for it.” As she fingered the prick she fell into a coma. “She didn’t die? Damn that Merrybitch, she did this to my curse! No matter, you’ll never wake up my little bitchie boo.” She hid the sleeping beauty in a bed in the east tower.
When the ladies went through the fireplace looking for Briar they found a spinning wheel and Phillips cap. They realized Mallie had captured the future of the entertainment industry assuming Briar to be in a coma somewhere. The three stormed into Maleficents home and the fight would prove to be the best season ender ever for the Housewives show. They rescued Phillip and explained the situation prompting him into action. Phillip stormed the castle finally finding Briar/Aurora, stripped her naked and laid a big swap spitting frenchie on her. She immediately awoke from he coma, took one look at Phil an ran as fast as she could.
Aurora became addicted to streaking naked through the kingdom but she only appeared to do it after her and Philly boy made love. Eventually he joined in and after every lovemaking session, the two ran naked all over town to the delight of all the people. Their escapades were soon recorded an a new reality how was created owned by Time/Warner. The two kingdoms had merged, and everyone lived happily ever after. Except Maleficent who had an unsuccessful spin off after she was dropped from the Housewife series.