Who’s the firestarter?
Posted on June 19, 2009
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An Indian woman in a wheelchair moves into a new neighborhood and finds her home and storefront continuously vandalized and constantly threatened to burn down.
She asks me for help so I dress up as an public city worker responsible for cleaning up grounds and making the neighborhood look pretty while I wear what looks like a haz mat suit and goggles.
I lap around the outside with her once because I want to see if anyone will inflict damage to her store while I have her away from the building and they know she’ll take a while to return going up hill in a wheelchair.
As we travel down the street and away from the front of her place, I’m picking up recyclable bottles to place in a heavy garbage bag. They’re just light enough to swing the bag freely at an intruder, and just heavy enough to do enough damage. They also make a great distraction when you throw a glass bottle far behind a person. The sound of shattering glass is enough to make anyone peer around out of sheer curiosity.
Upon turning the corner to which is now the back of her building, but the neighbor owns that part, I see a large black man sitting on his old Cadillac. We make eye contact and then I look ahead as he stares me down with his fist in his hand as if to intimidate us and he knods once. I send the Indian woman down the street and tell her to go to the convenience store or fast food place so she is in a public place with cameras.
Upon turning left around the corner, a woman gets on her bike in a hurry on the side of the woman’s building. There’s smoke emitting from a door, but its a fire that was put out with a squirt bottle of water. She rides off fast before I can get to her, but she looked scared.
As I turn the corner towards the front of the house, a man in a fake looking cable tv van and uniform is getting back into his truck. In his hand is a small torch. We all know the cable man doesn’t carry a torch. Seems like he’s the firestarter and the woman on the ten speed put the fire out, but looked nervous like she didn’t want to be seen putting it out otherwise she’d face the fire as well.
I start smashing the glass bottles in front of the womans store, and to no surprise fake long haired fake cable guy approaches me partially confused, but with a devilish grin to his face.
“What’re you doing man?”
“Oh, this lady…you know, not a fan of foreigners on my street, so when she comes out, I’m going to pop her wheelchair tire with all this glass, then she’ll be stuck out here all night because we all hate her.”
“Why don’t you just burn the bitch down?”
“Just tried that, but it blew out. If you’re up for it, I’ll get the torch and we’ll do it right this time.”
“Sure, go get it” I respond and as he turns he takes an empty ice tea bottle to the back of the head and hits the ground hard. As he’s falling, the big black man from the Cadillac turns the corner to the right of the house/store and knods again. We pull the man into the back of his own van and tie him to the inside which is covered with white power symbols and rebel southern flags. This one’s a real character.
We pull the man’s license and drive his van to his home. My partner wants to torch his eyes out so he can no longer judge a person by their color. Instead, we leave a note of 20 things he could be doing that are better than picking on an old woman in a wheelchair; starting with his daughter.
Poor kid left her school calandar in the car with tonights date circled by a heart and stick figure of a princess with little stick figures around her. Above her head it said “Me” and the little guys were the seven dwarves.
Watching her perform in the school play would’ve been a better idea than posing as the cable guy trying to burn an old woman in a wheelchair.
Drunken sailor and the mystery fire
Posted on June 19, 2009
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After a very exhausting lacrosse game downtown, I went to my hotel room and began drinking a few beers. I was already tired and dehydrated, so I became drunk very fast.
The next day I awake standing in the corner of an elevator populated with empty beer cans and business suited people leaving for work. I had to go down to the station and explain myself to a guard who followed my trail of benevolent destruction and disarray in the path of my intoxication which included knocking framed pictures off walls, drawing penises and mustaches on statues, and cutting the phone line to hallway telecommunication devices and wearing the wire atop my forehead like a sweatband.
My response exclaimed how it’s the city’s fault for not providing air conditioning in our facility, because then I wouldn’t sweat so much and lose my bodily fluids…which I lost more of on the doors in my hallway and had to explain why my entire floor smelled like piss and natural lite.
I offered the tall skinny guard to a challenge – if I can take him down at least three times, I get to go scott free. If he wins, he does as he planned.
Pea Green Carpets.
Posted on April 24, 2009
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riding by lower south and jumped down some stairs on my bmx gt interceptor, only to fall because it was raining out, and land next to tom’s mom’s truck, which was actually my mom’s truck. she was on the phone and had no idea, and my body uncontrollably rolled on the hard ground. i landed near her exhaust pipe. why she’s sitting in the basketball court, i have no idea.
i was late coming home for dinner, woke up in a pile of my own blood and skin, all banged up from rolling after the fall.
staining the pea green carpet of 10756′s basement stairs.
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on a shotgun rage in halo 3′s high grounds map, in the bunker/base area. but it’s not a video game, its real life. they can’t stop me from shotgunning everyone in my path, and pretty soon, there’s no one left. i decapitate someone so morbidly that when another person tries to stop me, i grab the hair of the person’s head, and hold on tight while throwing the skull out of the skin at the person approaching. they’re freaked out and run…or maybe i hit them in the face with it. i don’t recall.
the last person standing puts up a struggle with his own shotgun, but i take it from him. one shot left and i shoot the ground by his nuts and a few bbs pierce his kakhi pants.
his only chance now is to tell me the only thing i want to hear, that people still believe in good faith. gun pointed to his face i give him two options. get shot in the face, or ask that if i give him his life and his gun back, that he promises to give me mine and we go our separate ways.
he takes the gun, puts it towards my face, and empties the barrel. end of this – no one says how he empties the barrel.
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in a military program where we ride small planes, more like gliders equipped with weapons and looking to take out 6 enemy aircraft at once. the benefit of these gliders – they’re undetectable by radar. the bad thing? they’re destroyed easily.
plotting out my course for takeoff and waiting for a good spot to sneak up on them, and stupid bryan fucks it all up. he leaves our base door opening while cleaning. he takes my goggles and puts them in a drawer, which delays my take off at the door, which shows them our possible location, and they shoot us, which starts a fire and burns half our shit.
we sit him in a chair and tell him to shut up and not touch anything while we regroup and conceal our hidden base.
“i was just cleaning up”
“no. don’t touch anything. things are in places for a reason. sit over there on this chair and do not move.”
i believe we handcuffed him to the chair, both arms, both feet. we can’t have another fire at the base, and he’s destroyed some of the gear by leaving doors wide open.
The Wrong Hotel
Posted on March 26, 2009
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Being the only two unoblivious and American people at the foreign island hotel is not always a good thing. Finding out that two young girls were murdered while you were there is a bit uncomfortable. Finding out who did it and finding out that they know you know who did it is even more unsettling.
A black/tan security guard and a guy who looks like Steve Buscemi were responsible. We found the girls ID’s and put together folders of info. They found out we knew when we were outside witnessing giant whales being hauled close to the shore, then exploded to release the schools of whiting and tuna that they ate, so the fisherman could net them in and sell them to other areas.
It was most probable an illegal way to net the fish, which is why we were asked to go inside, only for the guilty to try to escort us to our rooms, but we went to the lobby instead. We knew he was guilty because he kept looking up at a window and signalling what looked like yes and no.
The girl I was with was there on her own for vacation, just as I was. I go back to the beach where the guard is watching the fishing explosion. I pull him aside and tell him I know. He said he knows. I said in exchange for all the documents I have, we’ll forget about it and head home to our country. “It doesn’t work that easy. Bring us two more girls. Virgins.” “Where the fuck am I going to find two virgins? People start fucking when they’re like 14!” “Then so be it. Find them.”
At this point I make calls home to people telling them the story, sending cell phone pictures of the documents and evidence and photos of the two culprits and the ID’s of the girls they dismantled. This is incase we don’t make it home, that they’ll have some sort of grounds for justifying our bodies and legally ass fucking the sick bastards.
Dream ends here.
Next I’m in the Halo 3 map with camp froman, inside the base playing lacrosse with guys from Kutztown and 380, and we’re doing a last man with the ball type of game before everyone leaves at 3pm to beat the traffic home from the Halo map. I say bye to people at a picnic table inside, and talk to some girls, tell a fat girl bye even though I don’t know you – and another girl says “that’s rude.” Ok, rude but true – I don’t know her. So I say my name and move to the skinnier girls and hang out with them for a bit. Shallow…I know…but skinny girls look better in bed.
How far will you go…
Posted on March 4, 2009
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Several kids in this town were raped and I’m the only one who knows who did it and I take law into my own hands. I chase these guys down through crowded areas and finally capture them. Two guys, about 18-19. Before turning them in I decide to teach them a lesson of their own. They’re being held captive near a dorm where the old girlfriend Beth used to live. Both of them tied up in a two bed room.
I let them go one at a time and dare them to escape. No weapons or anything. Just myself and the rage within that’s developed a sick hatred for these twisted individuals who need a punishment worse than what court will deliver.
And it happens. They can’t get out. They just get beaten down repeatedly one after the other until they’re unconscious, and when they awake and beg for mercy, they get beaten again. It’s to the point where I’m trying to break their neck (but not really) just to strike the fear of death into them.
The whole time I’m wearing a t shirt and jockstrap to protect the one piece of me that would probably hurt the most.
On my way to hand out another vigilante beat down, I pass her dorm room and the door is cracked open. I peek in to say hi and talk to her, but there’s a group of guys/girls in there watching a movie. A girl on the first bed grabs my ass with her toes as I stand near the foot of the bed. Two people jump as I walk in, like they’re getting caught doing something, and I hear “not interested” “just friends” or something like that.
After I leave and administer a righteous beating and hand in the criminals, I wake up in my place next to her and make a ride to Sheetz to get chili and a slice of pepperoni pizza for breakfast. “Damn those tasty seductions” she says and kisses me before I go.
Prime Minister’s Daughter
Posted on February 6, 2009
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I was stationed in Japan. Outnumbered 5,000 to 100. Our only hopes were that our bunkers could withstand the enemy blast. It wasn’t long until the bunkers were destroyed and the only thing left to hide behind were some old trucks in a rundown parking lot. So we hid where we could, often stuck laying next to a crispy bbq’ed friend until there were no more friends. Just me.
I lay between two trucks with my hands folded as if praying to Gods of mercy that they would either kill me or send me home. But their attacks at home left nothing for me to return to. I wouldn’t have anywhere to go anyway.
Some soldiers pass by and I lay still on the ground as if I’m already dead, contemplating the next move. They pass and head towards their base 100 yards away.
I rise from the debris and fleshy ashes and tear part of my white undershirt, wrap it around my fist and walk towards their base white flag high and surrendering.
Two things – they’re either going to blast me or capture me; both fun for them, and more fun if they keep me alive and torture me.
Option number two it is.
Japanese guys cuff me and take me to the people in charge. I’m cooperative and they don’t understand it. They don’t realize I’m partially thankful to not have to hide from grenades and napalm anymore.
The Prime Minister is in a meeting with the head of the military. I ask to see them, and after a few smacks in the body with a shotgun bottom, I manage to get my way. Persuasion through taking a beating, it’s a win win for both parties.
I explain to the war general and Prime Minister that I have nothing left at home. Nothing at all. So much nothing that I’m requesting to live here for a while under surveillance and am willing to help the military in training or whatever they need me for.
This war took away everything I was close to – friends…family…I don’t even know who I am anymore. The way I see it, if I can induce peace by becoming the enemy, then I can live with myself.
I’m drawing diagrams and proposals improve protection around the Japanese base. I fill them in on the common knowledge secrets (like ambush and attack from everywhere), but I don’t tell them the true tactics we learned.
And then she walks in. The Prime Ministers daughter. If you’ve only seen one Japanese girl in your life, then by all means I hope it was her. The most precious and beautiful woman I’ve seen in my life.
I can feel her eyes glazing over me with both hatred and horomones. As I’m showing her the diagrams, alone in the meeting room, she sits on the table and lounges a bit. She gets closer and closer. I can’t tell if she’s getting this close to slit my throat or what, but I don’t care because she smells so damn delightful. And then she kisses me.
At this point I’m thinking an alarm system will go off because it’s the Prime Ministers daughter. But the only alarm going off is the tension pole in my pants.
We kiss for a moment and stop. Soldiers walk in to take me to my quarters. But she insists.
i get an apartmnet, address 1200 on main street, there’s american cool guys smashing baseballs into windows and chasing me, i take the first one out and run….the rest help him from the ground.
i bought some stuff at a small store beforehand, so was running with food in my bag.
later im at the end of 10756′s driveway, last yard of the circle, sitting in a blazer. getting smashed with baseballs. these guys are real dicks. the one i beat up gets in. i tell him who i am, how i think its fun to do this too, but i cant or ill be caned/beheaded. i need to show i am legit before getting in trouble….then i have him by the throat and explain that i can also get them in my grips one by one and kill them, just like how i tricked this asshole to come to me and get in this car where i could kill and leave him with no witnesses.
later i talk about them to the minister and request a citizenship to stay so i can be with her. she even likes to get drunk.
Critters, Halo, and Torture. Oh My.
Posted on February 5, 2009
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Beth and I witnessed a guy be eaten to the bone in the water in front of a hotel. It was like the concreted off section of a small creek. So we stayed at the hotel. Stupid mistake. It was an airtight hotel with bullet proof glass and steel doors, but someone kept opening the front door. We were secure except for the main door.
Turns out the critter is in the stairwell and wants to come in. We throw a blanket over him and she wants to carry it in a schoolbag, but he can bite through that. I say put him in a dog cage, but there’s openings he may be able to squeeze out of. It’s getting close to night time so we can’t kill it or the swarm of them will smell their dead comrades blood and attack us. We need to keep critter alive till morning when we can destroy it and have time to leave the scene.
Halo 3 real life action game. A teammate is coming up a side airlift (opposite side as the game) to the sniper tower in Pit. An enemy jumps on his back and is riding him up the lift. I’m positioned on top of the tower already and jump, then land with my right foot on the enemy’s head crushing him down to the ground.
Another enemy attempts to come up the lift and instead of shooting him down, I front jump kick him in my master chief suit. Then I crossover to the invisible hallway, battle rifle an enemy and pick up the sword and search for my next target.
I escaped from the house of a torturer and found the other three prisoners trapped in a web of cloth in the woods. It’s three kids and I let them out. We’re all running from the crazy guy and some of the kids barely have their shoes on. They’re all running through the rustling leaves in winter boots. It’s dark and sound is playing a heavy disadvantage to us since the guy can probably follow our sound. We take an astonishing lead and drift off into the woods silently and stop. We can see him in the moonlight far off. We throw a few rocks as far away from us as possible as if to have him hear it and follow the sound of the rocks landing and go further from us so that we can make a better escape.
I don’t know how we ended up at this place, but I’m sure glad we’re out. I feel like we’re the cast of Goonies making the great escape.
Escape
Posted on January 16, 2009
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my flight takes off and pilot loses control so much that the plane goes straight up into a loop de loop pattern. he tries to regain control the plane but it scraps the top of tall pine trees and throws the plane hard to the ground. a massive explosion erupts and shakes the tree line.
Glad I missed my flight.
while driving home we hit a stretch of dessert and my friend decides to show off in the car by driving in circles like it’s a rent-a-car, and kicking up sand dust like crazy. you would’ve thought there were a sandstorm attacking us at all angles. You can’t see ten feet in front of you, and it’s not so windy, so the sand drifts in one place and doesn’t blow away. We’re basically waiting for it to settled before progressing on the trip. Just as we’re able to see at least 10-12 feet in front of our own eyes, the driver realizes he’s sideways on the road. Headlights of a big rig appear on his side of the car too close to escape and too close to slow down. The only question here is how bad will this be. The truck tears through the car with ease, slicing it in half and demolishing all life inside it.
I was pissing 30 yards away at the only tree in the dessert.
I’m not even sure I should walk home at this point.
Larger than life Plecos
Posted on January 15, 2009
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Remember being at a bridge like the one on Red Lion road in northeast Philadelphia. We were walking along the rocks and wooden boards in the water when one of the things we stepped on, which looked like a large dirty black rock, was actually a giant plecostomus.
Turns out the shallow waters were filled with massive plecos who could swallow us whole if they wanted to.
Crossing this creek was not a good idea.
House for sale – kids for sale
Posted on January 8, 2009
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realtor – some older greyed guy, show me house i’ve seen before in a dream or with my old realtor…lots of webs, filthy, but a great rehab.
it had a kid stuffed in it and the mom came “home” to get him.
we then found a train full of illegal children and baby animals with no driver. we hopped on, stopped it, and a line of school buses were in it’s path.
a bald biker guy with tattoos came to confront us.
it was his cargo…lady was his wife…they’re child trafficers and we discovered them.
as he hops off his bike, im trying to rush back into my truck with realtor to escape and go get police, but he grabs the keys.
its on.
i’m dialing 911 with my hand in my pocket, hoping they can triangulate my call, but these tracks run parallel to i-95 and trees – might take a bit longer with the surroundings.
tbc.