12/31/IN THE PAST

Test Post II

We’d been casing the joint, and knew exactly what we wanted. A bottle of a thousand, three grain tooies. Bad Bad JuJu.

Back then; they left the good stuff on the front counter, like nobody knew what it was.

Wrong.

Since I was the architect of this madness, and the master planner, I decided a diversion would work best. It was a two-man operation. I’d go in the front door closest to the booty, and my boy Floyd would enter through the back door, the one where the car was parked, facing out, and accidentally knock over a shelf of greeting cards and candy.

Problem was, I knew the Pharmacist’s daughter, and she was working that afternoon. I had to improvise, so I told her I’d give her a call later. We were ho-taming motherfuckers back in those days, so it really wasn’t a big deal. It was definitely not a showstopper; she was ready. Looking back, I think she realized what was about to happen. She wanted it to happen. She really did.

Anyway, after I eased through the front door wearing the biggest coat I had, and acknowledged the daughter, I headed toward the drugs. I see my friend Lloyd, or did I say Floyd? , no matter, he came through the rear exit screaming like a banshee. He was taking this shit seriously, and proceeded to knock over, not one, but both aisles. Old Christmas cards and candy were flying everywhere; it was hilarious. My man didn’t let me down. The clerks were screaming, the customers were looking toward the back, and racing toward the front; the Doctor was running toward the commotion in the rear, and I was free to lift the target bottle in question; which I did. I walked right past the owner / pharmacist, and out the back door. He paid absolutely no attention to me whatsoever. He had no clue what had just happened.

We made a clean getaway, and after a couple of high-fives, we both ate a handful.

Talk about Bad Bad JuJu.

Before we were too gone, we’d made it over to a friend’s house where I was handing out freebies to anyone interested. The way I figured it; I’d still have plenty left to buy a new stereo. Anyway, to say the least, I handed out a shitload of pills. A couple of hundred, I suspect.

This is what happened:

My accomplice and me were driving down the road, in a drug-induced stupor; I took a left, right into the car next to me. Right in front of the Police station. Right in front of the Police station. Man, we were fucked up. While the guy I just slammed was comforting his girl, I told Jim to get rid of the bottle (of pills). I’m swaying around on the dividing line, while my friend, quarterback Steve, puts a perfect spiral on that jar of junk and puts it midway into the creek off to the left. Hell, it could’ve been the right. Yeap, it was the right.

Well, the cops were there in seconds and unbelievably, they let us go. I mean they let me go. This was ridiculous, because I could barely stand, and neither could the passer.

My car had some port side damage, but it seemed to be running fine. We left, and decided to go somewhere to steal some beer, and maybe a bottle of whiskey. First, though, we had to look for the pills.

I pulled onto an overpass about a mile downstream, and we started smoking dope and concentrating on the creek. I failed to mention earlier, that it was a beautiful, clear night. The moon was full. Here comes the jar, right down the middle of the stream (it was wider than a creek). Unfuckingbelievable. We both jumped in to fetch it, and I can only speak for myself, but the water was so cold that my fucking nuts damn near jumped out of my eyes, but we recovered the stuff. After a couple of more high-fives, we were on our way again. I don’t remember if we ate any more or not.

Back in the car, I crashed into a ditch, not a mile from our next destination, and we had the audacity to ring the doorbell to ask if we could use the phone. The next thing I know, we’re sitting in some strangers’ living room, watching football. No shit, we even had his wife change the channel. I was seeing triple.

My brother, and a bunch of his friends show up, and you know what? They are invited in to watch football too. Weird. Later, I get my car lifted out of the ditch by all these people; we steal the beer and whiskey, and head out to finish the night. I must be honest, we were thinking about some trim.

We arrive at my friend Joan’s house, and my good friend Ed, has crashed his car into a tree. Totaled, but he’s so fucked up, he’s not hurt. Amazing how he hit a tree head on thirty yards from the end of the driveway. Must be those damn Tuinols. They do have a tendency to mess with your depth perception.

We head up to the house on the hill, and reports are coming in. Brian, another friend, who was fucking my old girlfriend, had a bad crash, and he needed plastic surgery, and so did she. Seatbelts? No. That happens when you meet a windshield. Sherrie’s father, who probably wanted to buy some, was really pissed. Missed his connection. Another Jim is in jail; his car wrapped around a tree by the lake. Robert called for someone to collect him. Smart guy. Bubba’s car is stuck in the mud. As far as I’m concerned, Bubba had been stuck in the mud all his life. Kathy, and the doublemint twins, were in detention (jail); waiting for someone to bail ‘em out. Big trouble they said. Jay was missing in action. Lori wrecked her car before she could get out of the driveway, which was probably good. Mary, her friend said, was tapped out. Good for her. Joan’s sister, Diane, smacked the shit out of me, bad, but I’m sure I had it coming. Joan’s twin brother was puking green shit

And best of all, I got away with it. No finger pointing at all…at least in my direction.

All in all, it was a hell of a night.