blue moon (2)

Friday, February 02, 2007

Breaking My Stones ©

What to do, what to do?
I think I have had every police force in the region looking to bust my ass at one time or the other and that didn’t bother me in the least.
I have had enemies and competitors try to break me, that didn’t bother me in the least either.
That is 20 years in the past now and I managed to survive all of the bullshit I got myself in but I am not out of the fire because I have friends and family to take over where the others left off.

Where to start, friends first or family or maybe split it in two how’s that?
Let’s see how long this gets.
I get a call from a friend the other day and he is freaking out.
It seems 5 years ago when he decided he wanted a phone he asked another friend to help him get one because he didn’t want to put it in his name.
He thought the cops would use the phone book to find him and arrest him for an outstanding traffic ticket.
I would have paid for the ticket, but that’s me.

That’s just the beginning of this story.
The other day a mutual friend stopped by to see him and told him about this big drug bust that went down and one of the top guys was his buddy’s son.
He got busted with everything under the sun and that 30 were arrested and 10 more were being investigated.
Big deal or is it.

It seems his friend put the phone in the son’s name, the same son who just got his ass fried by the cops and now my friend is shitting bricks to build the dog house he thinks he will be moving into when the cops kick in his door looking for the other guy and finding his stash of pot, the whole fucken ounce of pot that he has, he should get life for that. LOL
He figures he is one of the ten being investigated even though he has never met this guy that got busted.
He asked me to come over and find a way to help him out.

See what I mean?
I don’t need to get into trouble any more; my friends create enough opportunities for me to get myself busted fpr me.
As I was getting dressed Mike came down and asked where I was going and told him.
He offered to drive me but I said no, I needed some air and the walk would do me good.
It took me twenty minutes to get there and when I rang the doorbell I had to wait a bit before “who is it” came through the crack of the door.
All he had to do it move the curtain to see who was at the door.
What did he think, if it was the cops they would think no one was home if he asked “who is it” first, they’re not that stupid.

I walked in and he closed the door quickly then peeked out of the window by moving the curtain a bit.
See he could have done that when I knocked couldn't he?
He asked if I saw anything and I told him just a woman walking her dog and three police cruisers around the corner.
He swung around and asked if I was serious and told him I was.
Surely there has to be three cruisers around some corner somewhere, right?

He was all paranoid, freaking out pacing all over the place making little puffs of dust, he needs to vacuum.
He asked me what I think he should do?
I told him to sell everything he owned and move to another country like Brazil where there is no extradition treaty.
He said he didn’t speak Spanish.
I told him it didn’t matter, the Brazilians didn’t either, they spoke Portuguese.

I told him he had to relax, that there was nothing to worry about.
He didn’t really do anything to warrant this much anxiety.
Even if they did come in he would only get a ticket for what he had but he wouldn’t hear any of that, he was to scared.
He said they were coming for him because he saw some strange person looking through the basement window at his old apartment where the phone was registered too.
We ran the line upstairs when he moved to the new apartment but he didn’t want to pay to have them move it, which may have been a lucky thing for him.
That bugged him out the most it seems, someone looking into the basement window.
He asked me if I had any ideas and I told him I had a few but needed another beer to think better and maybe a scotch would help.

I told him if he was that bother he could just flush the stuff and would be free of all the worry.
If he was scared, I would flush it for him but not at his place because the cops might be straining his toilet water just in case he flushed something and they could get it but I would gladly take it home to my place and get rid of it.
He was shocked to hear they could strain his toilet.
I was shocked he believed me.
He thought about if for a bit before he agreed to my plan, then got up to get the pot, I told him I would need another scotch, just to settle my nerves you understand.

I am sitting there sipping my scotch waiting for him to bring me the pot when he walks into the kitchen with this big shopping bag, full.
I almost fell out of the chair.
I need more scotch, LOTS more.
He said it was only an ounce but he had 4 cartons of black market cigarettes too.
Oh, ok that’s breaking a totally different law.
He passes me the bag and I noticed it’s making this funny jingling noise.
WTF is that?
I looked in the bag and he threw in his scales to.
I give him a look and think to myself, first its illegal drugs then black market cigarettes and now the scales make the pot trafficking.
Get me another scotch, I need a little more courage and to numb any rational thought left in my head.
Can someone out there tell me why we need friends again?
After downing my third scotch with the two beers before it in my gut after about an hour of being there I had as much courage as I would need without falling over so I got up to leave.
Taking the bag I told him I’ll see him later and opening the door and stepped out.
I could hear the door close behind me and the three locks slam into place.

Have you ever done something wrong and you know it’s wrong but think to yourself what are the chances something will happen and I will get caught.
About the same odds as if you were to win the lottery, right…wrong.
Just then a cop car pulled up right in front of me.
I hadn’t even finished walking down the steps to the sidewalk and they were right here on me.
You got to laugh how life works.
Fate is a bratty little bitch isn’t she?
I looked at the cop as he opened the door and stepped out just as my foot landed on the sidewalk.
He looked right at me, I looked straight in his eyes smiled and nodded.
He returned the gesture and I walked past him and down the street towards my house like everything in the world was perfect and there wasn’t anything in the jingling bag that could get me into trouble.
Twenty minutes later I walked into the house and Mike asked how it went.
I through the bag at him and told him he could keep the smokes and to roll a BIG joint.
Bloody hell, I dropped in the seat and the phone rang.
It was buddy, he saw the cops and was going insane.
He asked me if the cops said anything to me but I said no and to stop worrying.
Then he asked me if I got rid the pot.
I looked at Mike rolling the joint and told buddy we were getting at it right now and hung up.

About twenty minute later we were sitting back in our chairs staring into the TV watching some guy on the Discovery channel trying to cut a dead pig in half with a cable.
I think the program is called Myth Busters.
I don’t know what the myth here was but I don’t think the pig would have approved with their methods.
That’s when the phone rang and it was my mother asking me to come over because the bank robbed my father.
There is a new twist on Bank Robbery.
Oh what the hell, I’ve already broken a bunch of laws today so what’s aiding and abetting your parents in a felony on top of all the rest.
I go next door and my father is sitting at the table pouring over a pile of bills and bank recipes.
He is waving the most recent one from the teller stating how much money was left in his account but my father says its wrong.
There should have been more money there.
My mother obviously backing my father is demanding I phone the bank immediately and find out where the rest of the money went.

Do you know how many times they have had me call just to be embarrassed because they were wrong?
Do you want to know how many times I called and they were right?
If you think I am going to pick up the phone to call them without me trying to figure this out first you’re dreaming.
I sit down and pull all the papers in front of me and start sifting through them under the constant barrage of my parents insisting that they papers were all in order.
I had to admit, they look like they were spot on the money this time.
Could it be possible?
I mean they can’t always be wrong right?
I decide to go over the numbers again and the statements and could find no mistake.
What was, in the bank was almost 300 short.
My father sat back smiling chest out and cocky, he was finally right.
My mother got me the phone to call the bank.
I wanted to call the newspapers to report a breaking story.
My parents were right.
This is a dream right, it’s the pot. I passed out and I am dreaming.
Pinch, OUCH.
Nope I am awake.
I guess this is it, I pull the papers close to me and take the account books from my parents and get ready to dial.
I start putting the receipts with their account book so that it’s easier to talk to the bank but there was a problem.
The receipts didn’t match the bankbooks.
They had a different account number.
I asked my father if he had another account book and he said n o.
I asked my mother and she said no.
The bank must have messed up with the account numbers or something like that.
I look at the statements my father gets and I noticed the same account number but it wasn’t on any of the bank books in front of me.
Odd, so I look through my mother’s statements and I find another account number without a book.
Having now pulled the two statements out I matched them to the receipts in front on me and the balances before the bills were paid matched and the balance total worked out right as well but the accounts didn’t exists, or did they.

I looked at them both, sneaky little weasels that they were holding back and I knew it.
I had evidence right here right now.
Let’s go cough it up.

It seems they BOTH have secret bank accounts that they hide a bit of money in and they BOTH used the wrong accounts to pay their bills and now they BOTH know each other has been holding out.

As I was walking out the door with the mystery now solved I could hear them now arguing with each other about having money stashed and always complaining they were broke to each other.
I walked into my house and I could smell the lingering scent of the pot still in the air and for a second, just a second mind you, I thought of taking the pot and leaving it at my parent's place then calling the cops on them.

Have a nice Day
It’s 10 am I am off to bed



patti_cake said...

Now that didn't end up at all like I thought it would. LMAO at your folks. I bet they are a hoot IRL cos' I sure get a charge out of them on your blog!
For the record I would have pissed myself when the cop pulled up and I was caught holding the bag, so to speak.

nachtwache said...

Talk about excitement in your life, at least you don't have a chance to get bored! How old is buddy that was freaking out? Did he smoke a few too many? Your friends and family give you ample supply of blog material! TOO funny!!
Thanks for the laughs! :)

Lynilu said...

Good grief! Your life certainly isn't boring, is it?? Both events are too funny! I'd love having been a fly on the wall at your parents home! I'll bet a lot could be learned!! LOL

nachtwache said...

I hope you had a good weekend. Do you ever wish for a bit less excitement in your life?
How's your friend Vickie's mom doing? She's been in my thoughts and prayers.

Michael Manning said...

Walker: Man, that's too much overload. Please know my most sincere thoughts and prayers are with Vickie's Mom.