blue moon (2)

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Mad Dog ©

Wednesday, October 4, 1995

Man accidentally shot self, OPP say

Ontario Provincial Police have identified Walkers Friend as the man found wounded in his truck near Lanark. The 32-year-old dies Tuesday at Ottawa Civic Hospital as a result of a gunshot wound to the head. Walker’s friend, of no fixed address, was found Monday in his truck in a ditch on Highway 55 north of Lanark. Police said Tuesday they believe he accidentally shot himself while driving. PFFTTTT!!!!

I met my friend in the summer of 1983. He was not that tall in stature but what he lacked in height he more than made of for it in muscle and rage.
The product of a Polish father who worked hard and drank even harder and an Irish/Indian mother who was quiet and reserved.
Discipline was harsh and the beating he received from the hands of his father was brutal.
Then one day he turned and beat his father to a pulp at the age of 16. Thus getting the respect of his father and thrown out of the house.
When I met him he was living in a tent at a local park. He came downtown looking to grab a share of the spoils. He believed he could come in and push through my turf unnoticed and unhindered.
He was wrong.
We locked horns quickly and I explain that even though it was open territory we had rules. He could sell his drugs, but he had to respect everyone else. We pay homage to no one but everyone MUST respect everyone and their customers.
I could see the hatred he had for me at that moment in his eyes. This man hated authority, probably brought on by the years of abuse he received from his father.
Who the fuck are you, he said to me, you run this street?
No, I replied I just do the same as you do at a larger scale, but we keep the peace and the cops leave us to do our thing. We don’t need the attention. Do what you like and respect everyone and we’ll get along.
And if I don’t, what then he asked?
Then you’re gone I said to him.
Yeah and who will do that.
I will.
He sat there looking at me and then started laughing. He said I was cool and bought me a drink.
I listened to this man and I could hear the compassion he had for animals and the hate he had for people. After a couple of months he was always by my side.
He was vicious, I was always holding him back. 2 cops made the mistake of going after him.
Seeing he was small they thought it would have been easy. He viciously beat them with so much rage and anger that it scared me to think of what would happen if we ever did locked horns. One of us would surely die. The cops started calling him Mad Dog from that day on.
He finally met a beautiful woman who he spent 8 years with. She was interested in me but I had a girl friend at the time. He knew this but it didn’t bother him because he knew I wouldn’t go near her.
What ever we were and done our code left us to respect each others women and we never touch someone else’s girl after she was spoken for and even after if they split up. It kept the peace amongst us. If someone wanted to go out with someone’s EX he would have to ask permission from the other.
We had many adventures together, to many to list in one post.
We would go out fishing and hunting. I would take care of any women he got pregnant and pay for the abortions. I took care of a lot of his fuckups.
Here is a little story.
99% of the people on the street didn’t know my real name. Just as most of you don’t.
I had gone over to his place and he told his girl friend to get some beer from the fridge and to bring Walker one too. She came back to the living room and handed me one and him one and was standing there looking. He asked her what the problem was and she asked him where Walker was?
We started laughing and he tells her that I was Walker and that was my real name. She flipped she knew me for 7 years and saw me almost daily and had just found out my real name. She couldn’t believe my street name was not my real one.
One day he called me and said he was leaving her and that he wanted me to have her. He knew she always wanted me and that I liked her. I was also single at this time.
I said no, and thank you. I don’t go with my best friends EX GFs. He was adamant about it and we argued. I took her out on a few dates because he made us go out and showed up at my place to ask me the next day how I liked fucking her. I told him I didn’t and she went home. I told him it would never happen.
She is now married to a nice executive, living a quiet life.
He met and moved in with another beautiful woman who would let him do as he pleased and fuck anyone he wanted which suited his lifestyle.
Another time a groupd of guys thought that their numbers were enough to grab him and take his drugs. He called out to me and said, Hey Greek, these guys want to party. (that was our way of saying fight)I look across the room and saw there was seven of them.
I smiled and yelled back. Ok start the dance and I'll be there.
The fight spilled onto the street and the cops showed up, and jumped in.
Then the rest of the boys ran over and jumped the cops.
More cops screamed down and then there were roughly 100 people and cops battling it out on the street. I remember pumping a cop through the display window of a cobblers shop.
We grabbed what boys we could snag off the ground and got out of there after awhile. We ended up at my place kegged in blood and sat there laughing and patching up any wounds.
The girls had become good nurses hanging out with us.
I still remember him saying, NOW thats, what I call a party.
The music played all night and into the morning and the beer flowed.
I woke up in that evening to a knock and there were cops at the door looking for us.
I was taken and charged for assault. The charges were later dropped when evidence was shown that I hit the cop in self defense after he hit me first.
He had always told me he wanted to die young and not to live to be an old man and deteriorate. He wanted to be remembered only as young. 32 was a good age to die.
We fought a lot of battles together and spilled a lot of blood, lost a couple of pints as well.
He was there at my bed when the attempt to kill me failed. He was there when my kids were born, they called him uncle and he played Barbie’s with them.

The phone rang at 1 am in the morning.
Walker, it’s me. They found him shot in the head, in a ditch.
The machines are keeping him alive but the bullet is in his brain and they can’t get it out.
They say he is going to die.
Four days later I was at his funeral. With tears running down my face his life flashed before my eyes. My soul was crying so hard I almost joined him. His family all knew me and we were together. I went to the coffin at the end of the service and put a joint and a bag of pot in his pocket and had a last drink with my brother. I can't to tell you how I feel at this moment.
His death benefited 5 people.
He was healthy and his heart is still beating in someones chest. I wish I could tell that person, that he has the heart of a Lion.
There is more to this story but I can’t tell it……….
My best friend died exactly 1 month after his 32nd birthday, he will forever be remembered young.
Cheers Mad Dog.

A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert.
During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face.
The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand:
They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath.
The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him.
After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone:
The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?"
The other friend replied "When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away.
But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone, where no wind can ever erase it."
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them.


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