Funny Shit

[mustynutz]

Funny Shit (complete story)

I just wanted to take a ride and pick up two bundles of heroin.

But Wayne has to jump out of the car and start beating the shit out of some young black kid that he had apparently experienced bad dealings with.

I am not even from York I have no idea what neighborhood I'm in or street I'm on. And here I am a white guy sitting in my car on a street filled with thug black dudes while crazy Wayne starts shit that could get ugly real fast.

I fucking hate Wayne. I hated him from the moment I met him. But I was dopesick and Wayne is a very resourceful junkie. I hate York too, but it's like a mini badlands, in a pinch, York will do.

Strangely the other black dudes don't approach to help out the kid that Wayne is now giving the boots to. They don't ignore it, they are all watching but no one moves to help. Wayne wears himself out. He reaches down and pulls the kid's package out of his coat comes back, jumps in the car, and says "k, lets go, make a left at the next street" I say "fuck you Wayne" he smiles and throws the stash he just lifted on my lap and smiles even wider.

As soon as we were clear of the war zone I pulled into a Walgreens parking lot and opened the bag up. It was mostly 20 dollar crack vials but there were eight lorcet and five 15mg Valium. I swallowed them all with a mouthful of two day old soda.

"This will take the edge off for a little while, but do you think we can score the dope now Wayne? or are you gonna try and get me killed again?"

"I gotta get something in here, you need anything?"

I just stared at him.

He comes out with a tire gauge and a box of copper chore boy pot scrubbers.

I'm laughing at him now "doing dishes are ya? fuckin' crackhead"

He fashions the stem in record time but not fast enough to stop my stomach flops of anticipation. I think to myself "nice, you've made yourself into a crackhead now too. Good job asshole!"


Later we score the dope and he directs me toward a house he says we can get high at.

We start going through a neighborhood of very old, very expensive homes. Homes that I had no idea existed in York.

He directs me to the entrance of a miniature fucking mansion!

Wayne, are you fuckin' with me again? I'm not robbing anybody with you"

" no this is the right place, just wait, you wont believe this shit"

We parked next to a big oak door in the back of the "house" Wayne opened the door and walked in like he owned the place.

It was a kitchen entrance not like a normal kitchen in a normal house but more like a restaurant kitchen. Lots of stainless steel prep tables, grills, and steam tables.

We went through some swing doors and into a dining room that looked mre like a scaled down ballroom. There was a couple making out rather passionately at the other side of a huge dining table covered with garbage. Completely unaware of our presence. They were at it purdy good. The girl was straddling the guy face to face in a chair, she had his cock out jackin' it and they were kissing like they were trying to swallow each others faces.

After a moment of viewing this scene Wayne knocks his shoulder against mine and whispers: " they're brother and sister" I look a t him like right Wayne!, don't try to bullshit a bullshitter..

He looks at me and says: "Brian, I shit you not, they are brother and sister"

the way he looked at me and with the conviction of his speech I knew he was telling the truth.

They were brother and sister.

TBC....

 

[mustynutz]

Yo! What the hell are you doing?" Wayne hollered. The sister jumped about 5 feet up in the air, and the brother says to Wayne with a terrified look on his face: " we, we, were just necking"

"Well put your neck back in your pant's motherfucker, and bust out some works cause we are getting high"

The sister says: "what do you have Wayne? And who is your friend"

"Two bundles. This is Brian but were not friends"

The brother says: "right on, I'm sick of these oc's"

Now at this point in my life I was a hopeless junkie. But I tried like hell not to be a needle sticking dope fiend. And oxy contin made that easy because I could chew it and get the same effect as booting heroin. So I was very pleased to hear the brother say he had oc's.


They had a whole bag of 40mg oxy contin pills, and he traded me the bag for a bundle. I was happy.

The sister didn't shoot up, she smoked the heroin and her method was very crude. She was wasting most of it. I was feeling alright now and asked her if she would like to learn a better way to chase the dragon. She liked that idea.

We went into the kitchen. And I taught her how to do it the right way.

You put the dope on a piece of aluminum foil shaped like a spoon then hold it over the flame on the stove next you hold a coffee cup upside down above the foil to trap the smoke that burns off. Then you cover the bottom of the cup still holding it upside down then move your hand away just a little and suck one big inhale out of the cup. Usually you go right to your knees when you take that hit.

She passed the fuck out. After moaning like a whore. Her moan was so loud that her brother and Wayne ran into the kitchen to see what happened.

"What did you do to her!?, What did you do to her!?, Sis! Sis! Wake up! What did you do to her!?"

The brother is freaking the fuck out on his knees slapping her face.

She came around after a few moments and told us that she had an orgasm when she took that hit.

Wayne and the brother thought she was full of shit. But I had heard of that happening to another girl I knew. So I believed her.


The problem with a junkie experiencing something like that is you want to relive it over and over and unfortunately no matter how hard you try to chase that high nothing is like the first time, thus the term: chasing the dragon.

So me and the sister hung out together that night she became instantly fond of me for dialing her in on this method that got her off.

We were sitting on a prep table bullshitting when she said: ill be right back, if my brother is looking for me tell him I got sick and went to the bathroom"

She left quietly through another exit.

Now I am alone and reflecting on why I am here with two incestuous siblings, a guy that I hate, in a town far from my home, and doing drugs. Why?! I have a nice home and a wife that loves me despite all my shortcomings. A decent moral woman. I have great kids that also love me. I have a great business that after years of hard work was finally blossoming. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

She pokes her head back through the door she had exited and whispers for me to follow her I followed her down a wide marble hallway with oak wainscoting brass rails and half shell sconces. It led to a set of steps and an exit. We crossed the drive and walked through the yard on a slate pathway for quite a way, it led to a cottage.

In the kitchen of the cottage she pulls out a ziploc sandwich bag half full of crystal white hunks of cocaine. Any coke I had used up to this point was a joke. This coke was a head ringer.

After a few lines she starts to get flirty with me. She is a beautiful woman. She kinda resembles the girl on the tv show will and grace....if she was a junkie. But just hours earlier I had seen her with her brothers cock in her hand.

But most importantly, I am married I may have been a hopeless junkie and I may have done some evil things but I am in love with my wife, and I respect her. I also meant the vows I said to her.

"Listen you're a beautiful girl but I am married, and I don't cheat on my wife"

"Hmmm" is all she said and we went right back to talking and laughing. I couldn't believe a girl so beautiful and so wealthy could have fallen this far...to the point of full-blown addiction and incest.

I have to admit, as much as I was disgusted by her fondling her brother, I was really starting to enjoy this girl's company. She was funny, smart, and interesting.


As we are continuing to do lines of this magnificent coke, we hear the door open and her brother comes in th kitchen pointing a double barrel shot gun at us.

"You stole it! You stole my coke! You fucking cunt!"

"Whoa, put that gun down man"

"Shut up! I'm gonna blow both of your heads off!"

 

[mustynutz]

I knew he wasn't going to shoot. Maybe in the movies the say shit like I'm gonna blow your heads off. But in real life situations if he really had murder in his heart he would have walked in shooting.

The kid watched too much tv.

"If you put the gun down now we can just forget about it, but if you keep pointing it at me you might end up looking at the business end of it yourself"

"Fuck you! Your not worth me going to jail over" he put it on the table and said: "get the hell outta here, I don't want you on my property"

About then Wayne, who I had seen the whole time behind him in the next room came from behind and grabbed his stringy black hair. He forced him to the floor cracking his face off the terra cotta tile.

I hate Wayne. But I also have a healthy respect for him. He is a tall wiry white boy that grew up in ghetto New Jersey neighborhoods. When you are white growing up in the black projects you have two choices either of which can result in you turning up dead.

Choice one: Be a patsy and let the thugs get over on you.
Choice two: stand up for yourself and demand respect on the street. This choice requires alot of brutality.

Wayne chose # 2 and it made him into a mean ruthless cruel bastard...but he survived.

Wayne stood up grabbed the shotgun off the table and put it to the back of his neck.

Click......Click...

Both barrels were empty.

That's why I hate Wayne but also have a healthy respect and fear of him. He is dangerous and unpredictable but at the same time very deliberate. There are not too many people I have met that I am afraid of, Wayne is on the top of that very short list.

Wayne is laughing now. "You fuckin' pussy, get up. You don't have the balls to step on a bug"

He turns to me: "you believe this guy Brian?

"Fuck you Wayne"

"What?! Fuck me?! what did I do to you?!"

"If there would have been any shells in that gun you would have painted me with his brains asshole"

Over the next couple of months me and Wayne would party at the Ritz as we called it. I always looked forward to spending time with Anne. I learned alot about her and her family I avoided the subject of the incestuous relationship with her brother as much as I could. Until one day I walked in on them having sex.

He was behind her slamming it home and she was moaning just like when she took that hit of heroin.

"You know what? you are some sick motherfuckers! What the hell is wrong with you?"

They were startled and disengaged, scrambling for clothes to cover up.

I looked right into Anne's eyes and said "you disgust me"

I still kept coming around after that because they had what seemed like an endless amount of cash that they freely spent on copious amounts of drugs, And I was a sick fucking junkie. After that incident, when I caught them having sex Anne never had any inappropriate contact with her brother while I was around. They probably fucked like rabbits when I wasn't around.



And they allowed us to hang out there because they had no friends and their family had disowned them. They had alienated themselves from their "upper class" friends with their descent into addiction and sexual depravity. Their family was wealthy enough to pay for the maintenance of the estate and whatever their financial arrangement was, it was plenty enough for them to do drugs like they were rock stars.


I got a call from Anne on my mobile phone one afternoon. She was panicked and begging me to come there and make Wayne leave. I told her there was no way I could come there right now and asked her what the problem was. She began whispering in a terrified voice:

"Please Brian, Wayne brought some people here and....."

The connection was lost. Right before we lost contact I heard a man say"Bitch!"

 

[mustynutz]

I never made it to the Ritz that day. That might seem odd considering the urgent phone call I had received from Anne. I never called the police either to let them know something might be wrong at the estate.
One thing you need to know about junkies is that they are selfish self centered people. The reason why I didn't go to the Ritz that day was because I was busy running around looking for dope and getting drugs in my body took precedent over almost anything else in my life.
The reason I didn't call the police, is if Wayne got busted for doing something at the Ritz and he knew Anne had called me, then me and my family would be in danger. You do not fuck with guys like Wayne.

When I did make it to the Ritz, about four days later, I observed that Wayne and three hard hitters had taken up residence, they were squatting and cooking large amounts of crack in the kitchen. When I say large amounts they had a 5 gallon bucket almost half full I'm sure Wayne was extorting the money from Anne and her brother for this enterprise.

Wayne was strutting around like he had just bought the place while Anne and her brother were smoking this crack like mad. As I was observing all this I walked into the foyer and slipped into a surrealistic moment. I was staring up at the dome ceiling and watching the crack smoke drifting up and around the arched windows all the voices in the house were muffled and slipping farther away by the second. I was watching the birds darting around the window. It seemed like they were pushing each other off the sill one would land then the other would dive at him seconds later. Forcing him off the ledge then that one would land and so on.

"Yo! Brian! Listen man I want you to have something"

Motherfucker! He had just ripped me from another place. I was drifting and enjoying a rare moment where drugs and money didn't have a place. This wiry fuck comes up on me and pulls out a small cleaned out skippy peanut butter jar full of crack.

"I don't want that Wayne"


"What do you mean you don't want it? fuck man I'm giving it to you"

A guy like Wayne never gives away anything without expecting something in return.

" shit if you don't want to smoke it, you could sell it and buy those fucking pills you're always chewing"

That was it. He was trying to recruit me to help him get rid of this crack.

"I'm not selling this crack for you Wayne, that's not my thing and you know that"

"I know, I know, but what would it hurt for you to drop a few ounces off to Spook and let him and his boys get rid of it"

Spook was a dealer that ran a bunch of corners in my neck of the woods. Wayne took off his boys for so much cash and dope over the years that there was no way he could approach him for business. Spook made it known that when it came to Wayne it was shoot first ask questions later.

So Wayne needed me because Spook could move alot of dope and he was as honest as you could get when it comes to drug dealers.

"Look, ill tell you what Brian, this is yours" as he put the skippy jar in my hand " all I'm asking is that you take 4 ounces and work a deal with Spook, if he says no, the crack is still yours and I wont fuck with you about it, I promise"

A promise from Wayne, about as reliable as the weather forecast.

I was strapped for cash, that's why I made the trip to the Ritz because I needed Anne And her brothers sick generosity.

He gave me a back pack it felt like the right weight and I left. I never said one word to Anne she was tweakin away and honestly I felt a little ashamed that I did not come to help when she called on me considering the tens of thousands of dollars worth of drugs she and her brother had bought and shared with me.

The next day when I met with Spook was a day I will never ever forget.

I met with Spook at his house. I opened the backpack and said: "take a look man, whataya think? you wanna move this?"



"Hmmm, nice." Good he was smiling. Then his smile disappeared " How's my boy Wayne?

My heart started pumping, I was trying to remember his house layout so I could make a move for the nearest door.

 

[mustynutz]

Take it easy, take it easy Brian"

he must have seen the panic in my face.

"Yae I know it's Wayne's shit, everyone knows Wayne is cooking, he has a big fuckin' mouth"

"You know I hate that motherfucker, but business is business. But I'm only paying $50 bucks per gram because I'm sure he cut it heavy with baking soda" as he walked over and picked up the backpack off of the glass coffee table.

Bare minimum on the street crack earns $150.00 per gram. But usually way more when it is sold by rocks. It is easy to sell crack at $250.00 per gram selling it street level like that. I'm sure Wayne was looking for at least $100.00 per gram from Spook.

And it was too late because there were no negotiations he had handed the backpack off to his old lady, and that was that.

Now I am fucked. And the reason I am fucked is because I don't know how to deal drugs. A real drug dealer would not have been so stupid as to walk in and drop 4 oz's of product on the table. I don't belong here in this house dealing with these people. I belong at home being a decent husband and father. But I am a freak.

I have trouble now. I just basically gave Wayne's drugs away without a firm agreement. If Spook does give me what he said, $50.00 per gram I will be giving Wayne $5.600.00 dollars when I am sure he is expecting well over 10k.

This is bad.

Spook gave me a fat tit of heroin before I left he must have figured I would need it.

When I left Spooks house I went to the "office". The office is a bar that you can basically do whatever you want at. It is normal for people to be openly doing drugs right at the bar. I don't believe I have ever walked into the office when it didn't reek of weed.

I normally don't shoot heroin however Spook doesn't sell heroin, he uses it and he gets very high quality very pure dope. I am a little leery about doing drugs in the open so I went down into the basement and cooked up a healthy shot at a card table and went to heaven.

When I was able to walk again, I went upstairs and the first face I saw was Wayne's.

Motherfucker! I thought I would have a few days before he started giving me the press about his money.

"Wayne, What the fuck man? I just dropped the shit off with Spook an hour ago don't start pushing me man!"

"No, no that's not it. I had to get the fuck out of the Ritz in a hurry. Anne is dead, she blew her heart out on that shit"

"What!?"

"She wouldn't stop smoking it, all day all night every fuckin' day. I told her she better slow down but that bitch wouldn't listen now she is dead and Marc was freakin out. I dunno if he was freakin cause his sister was dead or because he didn't get one last hump in her"

I stared at Wayne for a moment trying to understand his callousness but realized it was futile.

"I'm outta here"

"Hey hold on a minute just let me know what you worked out with spook"

"I'm not getting into it right now but it's almost as fucked up as what happened to Anne. I don't know what you were expecting to make, but all I can tell you is cut it in half"

I walked out of the office he was following me trying to get me to tell him the details but I just ignored him and got into my car and went home.


I did alot of heroin the next few days. And decided once again that I was going to get clean. I failed again.

Wayne got 6k and surprisingly didn't give me a hard time about it. In fact he asked if I would do it again. As much as I knew how bad of an idea it was getting involved with Wayne I did it. And I did it again and again.

I also got involved with a group of people that I met through Wayne dealing and using tens of thousands of prescription painkillers. That ended rather ugly. If you are interested you can follow this link for some details: http://www.cnn.com/2003/US/Northeast/10/11/bodies.unearthed.ap/


I am sick of recounting this shit right now.

 

[mustynutz]

Its Saturday night and I have nowhere to go...and that is a very good thing.

I am going to write a little then have dinner with my wife and son and daughter. I rented a couple of sundance films so we will watch those and throw popcorn at each other for fun. After I will probably check and see what kind of responses this gets, then hit the scratcher.

That probably sounds pretty tame for a Saturday night to most of you, and it is. But I have had enough Saturday nights. I lived a perpetual Saturday night for a lot of years and I gotta tell you hanging out with my family and going to bed at 11pm may not be exciting, but it is more fulfilling than the most decadent night of partying you can imagine. For me anyway.


The nuthouse didn't work. In fact three trips to rehab and the nuthouse didn't work.

I had submitted to the fact that I was a hopeless junkie.


The pharmacist who filled prescriptions for narcotics like they were orders of McDonald's french fries started filling again while under indictment. Tommy got out of jail on bail. Wayne visited all Tommy's Friends and "encouraged them to donate towards Tommy's bail.

So it was on again.

In my mind I truly wanted to get clean and free myself from drugs but my body would not allow that to happen. I was quite pitiful. I was ashamed that I did not have the strength within me to overcome my addiction.

When me and Tommy started making the rounds again I ran into a guy who was in the nuthouse with me. Frank had a worse habit than mine. He would put the oxy's in his mouth until the coating was worn off then cook them and shoot it up. He would miss his veins often which resulted in big infected abscesses that would have to pe lanced to relieve the puss from the infection. Ain't drugs cool kids?

Needless to say, Frank was a good customer.

While he was in the nuthouse, I think Frank must have tagged every heina on the ward. I know this because we shared the same room along with a homosexual speed freak with aids, and a deranged black crack addict who had to be restrained with straps about every other day.
The crack addict once said in group shortly after I was committed: "I cant get away from it. Everywhere I turn there is crack. At home, at work, at the clubs, my friends, my brother, crack, crack, crackity, crackity, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, cracker, crackity, crack, crack, crack."

I was laughing like hell. No one else was because apparently it is inappropriate to laugh at someone while they are sharing in group.
TBC

 

[mustynutz]

so like I said earlier there was no rehabilitation for me.

It is easy to voluntarily commit yourself to a mental institution. However it is very difficult to check yourself out...in fact you cant. Once you are committed it is entirely up to the pshyciatrist to determine when you are ready to leave, and if you have good insurance like I do they make sure you are not ready to leave until they have had you long enough to collect the easy, no questions asked insurance payments.

My second night there I knew I had made a big mistake. I called my wife and told her to pick me up 3 blocks away from the hospital because I was getting the fuck outta there. Although I may have had a valid point in wanting to leave, she was at her end with me. She said she would not pick me up, and if I left the hospital she did not want me home.

I am a stubborn willful man and I knew there was nothing she could do to prevent me from coming home and once I was home if she called the police I knew there was nothing they could do to make me leave my home. I have unfortunately spent time in various institutions of incarceration and knew that I could get out of this place with relative ease... but I conceded which is rare for me...my wife is very special to me.

Apparently, your telephone conversations are monitored because the next day the ward staff informed me that they were aware that I was a flight risk and warned me that I was being watched by security for possible escape.

Security in the nuthouse consists of young lads who like to work out with weights>>not exactly a concern to a seasoned streetwise man. But it was fun playing them.

This is a summary of my stay in the nut house:

I was heavily medicated with lithium and risperdal which does nothing to me.

I was voted in as discussion group leader.

I scored heroin and other drugs 3 times from a friend at the aa meeting that was attended by the patients as well as "free" court ordered drug addicts.

I made $430 dollars selling valium and vicodin to the patients that I scored at the aa meetings.

I was offered sex in exchange for drugs 3 times by female patients and declined the offers even though I had a nut on me that felt like a lead balloon....I remained dedicated to my wife. I love her. She is my reason.

I made the security boys nervous every time they had to supervise me on mainstream activities aka- aa meetings.

I put two staff members in my back pocket.

I taught the crazy crack addict how to make jailhouse wine. Its quite simple and quite disgusting. I will teach you in the event you are ever incarcerated and need to get a jag on

first you need to collect the orange juice half pints everyday from everybody that wants to get drunk

then you need to collect white bread ,solely for the yeast content.

Then you have to brew it in trash cans that are double bagged, between the garbage is where your brew is fermented.

As long as the guards are down with you, you can ferment a brew that will get you shitty on one quarter pint>>2 shots for lightweights.

I hope this helps.



Anywho, I did my time like a good white boy and was released as soon as my insurance company's compensation ran out.

Then it was back to bidness as usual.

 

[mustynutz]

lol....i havent even read all of it...

 

[DaytonFamily]

keep it going

 

[KAH]

dam that was a long ass read funny ass fuck though

 

[Nonstop]

did you write that?? or is it someone elses

 

[mustynutz]

i found it

 

[William206]

that shit was tight.. gives me somthing todo while at work

 

[CHIVO510]

GOOD STORY, KEEP IT GOIN PIMP.....

 

[$iccnes$ kid]

LMAO I DIDNT C THAT STORY BUT IF UR EVER HAVIN AH BAD DAY U CAN ALWAYZ COUNT ON MUSTY TO MAKE IT BETTER

 

[Guilla-T]

yeh keep that goin

 

[mustynutz]

I have always and most likely always will have to learn the hard way.

You know that dangerous and naive attitude that men in their late teens and early twenties have that they are invincible? Well there I was, in my thirties, still a head strong cocky bastard.


Unfortunately for me I had not matured out of that phase. I have always been down for just about anything at the drop of a hat if it is illegal, dangerous, or just plain wrong. I am an adrenaline junkie as well as a dope junkie.



Part of the reason I got involved in drugs is most likely due to my proclivity towards putting myself in hairy positions. When I was a very young kid I used to steal things from a store because I liked the rush of my blood pumping as I walked out the door knowing there was a 50/50 chance I would be caught. The item I stole was inconsequential. That feeling was my spoils.




As soon as I hit the bricks from my stay at the nuthouse I was back to the same old tricks.


Only now my wife who was so innocent to the streets and the kind of life I led was aware of what I was. Before she knew what I was doing I justified my actions by telling myself that I must have a chemical imbalance that requires my body to have opiates flowing through my veins 24/7 and other lies junkies tell themselves.


But now that she knew about me I had this nagging guilt enveloping me. And honestly, I was ashamed. It may seem strange to you but I need my wife to be proud of me. I need her acceptance. But when I looked into my brides eyes whom I love so much what I saw was doubt and hurt and fear.


Believe me when I tell you that I would never allow even the slightest transgression against my bride by anyone. And here I was, the man who is supposed to love honor and protect her throwing horror on her.




Spook rolled up on me one morning and asked me to take a ride. I knew better than to get in his car the guy is trouble, trouble. But I knew he was holding and his shit was the best. So we drove to a local reservoir and fixed on the damn wall.

As soon as I was neat he began telling me what he wanted from me. You see when your in that kind of life you don't have friends all you have is people who want something from you whether it be drugs or money or a laundry list of other wants. A true friend only requires you from you.


What spook wanted from me was to go to the city and make a dope run for him.


Spook:
"The niggas who were making the runs the past couple of months wont be able to do it for me anymore. They are out of the area now. I heard they was with your partner Wayne"


So I knew they were dead. Probably caught with their hands in the till.


Spook laid out a very lucrative offer for me and I really had no other offers at the time . So I said yes. I said yes when inside I was screaming no! You fucking idiot! do you want to die too?


But it fed my two habits; Money for my drugs and the fear of the unknown that was already making my blood pump.

 

[mustynutz]

I hate the city.

Well, not really the city but doing business and traveling in the city. I love to party in the city. There is no place quite like New York.


I accepted spooks offer and became a very successful mule.


This was how I did it:

I would strap ladders, scaffold and a 10 foot length of white PVC pipe to the rack on my truck. The ladders and scaffold were for show and had nothing to do with transporting the smack.

The PVC pipe was the vessel.


I sanded a white end cap down so that it was small enough to fit inside the pipe instead of over it. I leathered it with PVC cement and shoved it as far up the pipe as my arm would allow then I mixed a batch of clear epoxy and poured it in from the other side when that epoxy cured inside the pipe it created a seal so tight that a blast from a fire hose couldn't make that plug slip.



Then I would put the dope in 6 inch lengths of 2 inch PVC pipe and put end caps on both sides then I would simply shoot them down inside the six inch pipe and leather up a white t shirt with PVC cement, tie a rope to it and push that shirt as far as my arm would allow down the other end that was facing the wind.



This gave a very convincing appearance of a piece of pipe on a contractors truck. Even if a trooper dropped back to look inside he could not be able to see through the other end even if it was clear due to the height of his car. The only way I could get pinched is if I were pulled over and the cop climbed up and looked inside the pipe.




I wore navy blue dickies work pants and shirts complete with the iron on name patch when I did my business in the city. I would carry an empty tool box and a small light aluminum ladder into a public building my man would follow me into an elevator I would get off on a floor and he would get off on the next floor up I would go into the stairway open the lid on my tool box and as we passed on the stairwell he would reach in , remove the money and drop the balloons in.

Beautiful you might think.


However, mules are the lowest on the drug chain. Reason is because the risk of getting killed, robbed, busted and greedy is very, VERY high. So it pays very good


I took a lot of precautions so as not to get robbed or killed .
I chose the area of the city where we would meet
I would choose the building minutes before we were to make our exchange by cell phone
I made the hand off man aware I was coming up those stairs heavy.
I always had a second plan to exit the city just in case something happened to my truck.
I picked the day of the week and the time.
I had no partner/shotgun rider.


To me it was easy money. Each trip I earned 1k and 3 bundles.


Everything went fine. I would make 4 or 5 trips per month, I had dope and I was able to pay the bills and give my wife the appearance that I was working and making a living for us.


When in actuality both my businesses were basically shut down. I didn't renew my licences with the banking commission and I had not completed one building contract in over a year.


But I was high.


I was also wracked with guilt. Depressed, lonely, and on top of that I had begun to notice very odd behavior I was exhibiting but only after the fact. I was becoming increasingly paranoid and quite unpredictable in the way I associated with people.

My head was filled with grey thought that I was struggling to stop thinking about but I was unable to do so.

My odd behavior became a pressing concern because I was becoming unpredictable at home around my wife and kids. I went to a psychiatrist and was diagnosed as schizophrenic . Cool huh? How would you like to live with a 6 foot 230lb paranoid schizophrenic junkie drug mule?






The culmination of these problems I was experiencing was about to impact with someone more dangerous and more unpredictable than I could ever be. This is a bad time.

 

[mustynutz]

Things had changed when I was released from the nuthouse. I was only committed for three weeks but man! I was coming home to a load of bullshit.

Wayne was at my door the next morning after my release. Im not sure if it was a coincidence or he somehow knew.

Whatever the case, he was desperate, I could see it in him.

"What the fuck are you doing at my house Wayne? We talked about this a long time ago"

"Relax dude, we need to talk about something pretty damn important"

Wayne's important thing was he was strapped and needed money, dope, and a car and due to the fact that he "gave" me dope and I made money with him selling dope he figured I owed him. That's one of the many negative things about getting involved with guys like Wayne they are like parasites.

I knew better than to tell Wayne to get bent. Even though that is what I wanted to do and what he deserved. The reason being, Wayne is a genuine badass who has no conscience. I wasn't worried that we would throw down even though I had seen him in action and knew I would most likely lose but rather he knew where my family lived and I could not put them in harms way.

"Listen to me Wayne. You need some help and I am willing to give it to you. However I want something in return; forget you know me, never come to my house again, never call me, after this we are strangers, ok?"

"Sure man, whatever. I think you are over reacting, but whatever"


I gave him $500 bucks and transferred ownership of a piece of shit 85 sedan deville into his name.

He was shot and killed 4 days later in Newark as he slept in the backseat of my old caddy. It was bound to happen.



So I knew my suspicions were correct that spook had tracked Wayne down into New Jersey and had him killed when he told me that his last two mules were with Wayne. That was his way of intimidating me. Spook was not the kind of guy to come out and tell people what he had done even though everyone including the police knew he was responsible.

Someone like spook exists because he instills fear in everyone>>>including the police.



Spook was BLACK. You ever see a piece of anthracite coal? well it is the best representation of his skin color. There are black guys then there are BLACK guys .biggie smalls was white compared to Spook.

Even though spook was a ruthless drug dealer, I have to admit he had honor and was surprisingly honest for a thug. He didn't look or talk or act like a thug either. Those guys usually die before they are 25. Spook was a guy about 35 an OG is what he is considered because like I said the guys who are in this lifestyle have a short life span. 35 is approaching senior status.


The last time I delivered dope to J, spooks main man. J locked the door and asked me to go downstairs with him. Spook and another guy I had never seen before were standing around a bar in J's cellar.


"Where is my motherfuckin' money?"

"What the hell are you talking about spook?!"

"Don't fuck with me and make this worse than it has to be the guy you met in the city this morning came up 5k light!"


"whoa, whoa man! I didn't touch that money except when J gave it to me and I counted it in front of him. It was all there right J"

"Yea it was all there... last night when I gave it to you"


"Smoke this lying fucker Spook"

It may have been the first time I had seen this guy but I knew I didn't like him after that comment.


Spook pulled out an automatic pistol, put it next to him on the bar, and asked J and the other guy to leave.


I could not believe I was going to die for something I didn't do. But it didn't really matter if I stole the money or not. I was the stupid asshole who got involved with this guy even though I knew I shouldn't.

I was scared shitless and mad as hell at the same time.



"You are either gonna believe that nigger or me is what it comes down to spook."





"Did I just hear you say nigger?"


"Yea I said nigger. nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger, nigger. And you! You are the biggest, blackest, ugliest nigger I have ever seen! "


There was a long pause.


He who speaks first loses.



Instead of shooting, spook started laughing.

"You know what? You are the craziest white boy I have ever seen! You're alright man!"

 

[mustynutz]

13 is my lucky number.


I dodged a bullet with spook big time. A lot of people would call my reaction to a dangerous guy like spook stupid. Well that's cool. I am not offended by those who under estimate me due to my appearance or actions, in fact, I count on it. It is what gives me my edge.

When you strip a man of everything he shrouds and protects himself with like money, power, education etc. the only thing left are his balls. If you don't have a set, you're fucked in this world.





I remember when I was a little kid maybe seven or eight years old my brother and a friend of his let me tag along with them to go play miniature golf. When my brother went to pull into a parking spot a low rider cut my brother off blatantly and took the spot. My brother flipped him off and we found another spot. As we were walking toward the entrance, we were suddenly surrounded by dozens of cholo gang bangers. They made a circle around us and a huge mean looking dude covered with tats approached my brother in the center and said: "you got a problem with my homey white boy? Well now you got a problem with all o f us"


My heart was pounding out of my chest my brother's friend looked like he was watching a horror movie. We know about these guys, we lived in their barrio, we know what they do, these are scary evil people.


My brother was silent. Just staring at the guy. Then he said:

"You know what? FUCK YOU and your homey! He is a fucking asshole. He cut me off for a parking spot so I flipped him off. No big deal. But then he comes crying to you because I flipped him off? He is a pussy! Here pussy suck on this(my brother was flipping the original guy off at this point)


The guy looks over at the guy who cut us off then turns back to my brother and says:

"Damn! You got balls a white boy. I like that! Were cool"

He turned and walked away and the circle broke up.


I learned a lesson from my brother that day and on many other occasions that you have to fight through natural human reactions that spring up inside in certain situations like fear for instance and never back down. Listen to me. Never let the bastards grind you down.


I stopped making trips to the city for spook that day.

About a week after my "showdown" with spook I stopped by the office on my way to pick up some furniture we had bought from one of my wives colleagues from work. And I was pleasantly surprised that 160mg oxy contins were for sale. $80 bucks per pill but worth it. When someone is at the very end stages of cancer in a hospice and the pain of the cancer eating their body is so unimaginable they will prescribe one 160mg oxy contin every twelve hours and it eases the pain magnificently. It is a wonderful drug for those who suffer.

I bought 10 and chewed up four right then and there.


When I arrived at the address my wife gave me I was fucking hammered,. You could have wailed on me with a ball bat and I probably would not have felt it till the next day.


The building Seth lived in was100% Jewish occupied it was Friday afternoon and I know that they turn into pumpkins or some shit at sundown and it was late in the day so I had to get a move on.


Seth was a really cool person. He was enjoying every minute of moving the furniture with me watching the reactions of his neighbors toward me and we were laughing and joking about Hitler and white power to fuck with them. And he was as put off as I was by the building's resident's reaction toward having a big, bald, illustrated man riding the elevator and walking their halls. It was ignorant and ridiculous.


When we were putting the last of the items in my truck, I began to feel sick. I ran over to a hedgerow in the back of the parking lot and puked. I was thinking what a waste of a good high.


I don't know if something jarred free inside me when I was puking but a huge unexpected change was about to occur.