A promised story (1085 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.83 on 29 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (View user info) at 2007-10-03 23:25:24 EDT
This is the story from here:
http://www.ubersite.com/m/111529#2518306
I had an apartment raided by the DEA once. It was a total flophouse, with around 10 people living there at any given time. I was the only one with a consistant job. I could barely afford to pay all the bills with the shitty job I had. Actually, I probably could have if I hadn't spent most of my paycheck on 40's of Steel Reserve, cigarettes and drugs. But that wouldn't have been anywhere near as much fun.
My apartment building was above a bar/pizza joint called Luigi's in Staunton, Va, just around the corner from Mary Baldwin college, an all girls university, full of curious young girls- I mean "young women" and next door was the imposing St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church. I dated a PEG student. PEG was a program there where "bright" underage students could attend college. She said she was 17, but as they took in students even younger, I have a feeling she was lying. I was 20-21 during all this.
St. Francis had a charity house next door, and they would pay one bill per year, and give you a TON of food every month, mostly old kaiser rolls,gov't canned goods and whatnot. I would have a different "guest" go hit up the charity every month, and take care of one bill. Usually the electric or gas.
As contrary as it seems, I wasn't a complete asshole. I used the charity for food and bills, but they probably also knew that my apartment was a haven for both the homeless and runaways/strays. All I can say in defense of my sanity was that I had, and still have a soft spot for the helpless, despite my recent commentary otherwise.
It was so notorious in fact that it was known as "Uptop" by nearly everyone in town. (Uptop, above Luigi's)
It just so happened that in the middle of winter, in the mountains, in the snow, I had a runaway friend and her boyfriend staying with me. While I was at work one day, they went and robbed her dad's house, taking several bottles of liquor, some cash, and a pistol. Of course I knew none of this, and I have no idea if anyone else there did either. All we knew was that one day she came to my apartment with lots of high end liquor, which she was sharing freely. We didn't question it and even if we had known, I'm not certain we would have kicked her out, we probably would have just asked for some cash also.
A few nights later, the cops came up looking for her. Luckily she had left "for good" some 3 hours earlier, so I let them in to do a visual to ensure that fact. While walking through one of my room-mates rooms, they spotted a ivory carved pipe, which we hadn't used for smoking, it was just an heirloom. They started the interrogation, and it ended up that they would leave us with a warning, but they were taking the pipe as "evidence."
After they left, I was somewhat in shock, so I sat down in a cheap ottoman in the corner. About a minute later, the runaway girl who had been hiding behind the chair looked out from behind me and asked if they were left. I made her get out immediately, through the back door, which was in hindsight, probably already being watched.
This all happened at around 9:00pm.
At 11:00 pm, there was a knocking at my door.
We were used to having people coming and going at all hours of the night and day, because flunkies and junkies work strange hours. One of my room-mates yelled out "Come on in! It's open!"
Chaos ensued.
I was in my bedroom, with the door closed, on the mattress with my jailbait girlfriend, and a quarter ounce of herb in my cargo pants. Suddenly, I had a gun thrust in my face as every door in the apartment was kicked in almost simaltaneously. The head of the DEA patted me down, and to this day, I'm not certain if she felt the bag in my pocket, which she put her hand DIRECTLY on, and wanted to spare me some trouble, or if she just missed it.
Everyone was thrown in cuffs, and herded into my bedroom, while they tore the place apart. They took us out one by one, and photographed, processed, and questioned every one of us, in the house. It was then that I found out why they were actually there, to find the girl and her father's pistol. If they had been there 2 days before, they would have found 2 of my aquaintances with several vials of LSD.
Despite all that, we didn't go to jail that night. As their goal of finding the pistol failed, and all they took as evidence from the place was a roach on my mantle, 3 bongs, assorted pipes, 9 issues of "High Times", and a soda can that a niggar crackhead from Jersey and his abused, obese, white girlfriend from Florida had used to smoke crack in, and subsequently left under my bathroom sink. This same couple while staying with me stole my bottle of vicodin when I had shingles, and I spent a week in pain.
So the cops leave, and I divvy up what I had in my pocket the whole time so everyone can calm down, and they've sent my girlfriend back to her room, which I soon visit to crash for the night.
We went to court eventually, and plea bargained until we all just took the collective guilt for the paraphernalia charges (4 pages of evidence! Which I lost...damn)
and ended up with prohbation for a year, so many hours of community service, a hefty fine, some courses, and drug tests every month.
I started doing my community service which was cleaning the juvenile court downtown with a kindly old woman named Sue. Sue was a wonderful old woman who told me if I worked with her, she'd knock off multiple hours per every hour of work, and in this way, I completed my 120 or so hours of service in about 4 months. During this time, I had a abcess tooth, and no dental care. I was also being drug tested, and since I couldn't do drugs, I drank my pain away. We drank Steel Reserve, because it was cheap, had a high alcohol content, and was located at the corner shop a block away.
After about 3 months of drinking every night, I had alienated all my friends, by doing things like running naked through the apartment waving a sabre around while tripping and very much drunk and pissed off, screaming at everyone to "Get teh fuck outta my apartment"
I also began a consistent morning routine of waking up very hungover, and throwing up before I went in to work at the coffee-shop halfway drunk. I owed my livelihood to my boss their, who told me when I started, that he didn't care if I went home and shot up, so long as I showed up sober and put in a full days work.
I did anyways, sorry boss. If you're ever in Staunton, go and buy coffee from the guy's shop, on Byer's St. I hear his place got flooded a few years ago. If you tell him this story, I guarantee he'll know who you're talking about.
Plus, he serves an excellent cuppa joe.
It was around this time, that I woke up one morning to throw up something I'd never seen before. I think I hadn't eaten an actual meal in about 3 days, spending this time drinking malt liquor instead, but what I threw up was black chunks of bile. I decided to quit drinking, and change my life at this time, so I gave up my apartment, finished my programs, service, and got off prohbation, and moved into the Stonewall Jackson motel.
At the time, the Stonewall was a relic of the past. It had been luxurious sometime during the 30's, and still retained some glamour in the lobby, which had velvet draping, nice old paintings, and original lighting. The lighting kinda sucked, and it was always dark, but I thought it was plush! By this time, it had degraded to the point where it was mostly used as a halfway house for the recently released patients from Western State Mental Hospital. Lots of queers, and truly crazy folk. I think it was because of this time that I no longer believe I'm crazy.
The 3rd floor was reserved, and you needed a special key to reach, because this is where they housed the retards. The entire floor was one giant retard zoo. I'd see them while going to the drink machines, or going out, and they'd be shuffling around the lobby, always shuffling. There was one obese woman who would sit out on the steps of the parochial school across the street and randomly yell at passing motorists.
At the time, I hadn't quit anything, as I'd just been released from prohbation after I moved in, and a kid who had recently graduated from the parochial school, and who got busted with me in the apartment, would get me morphine and oxycontin. It wouldn't be until much later that I would end up injecting anything, though I was crushing and snorting them.
Once, my mother came up to visit me, along with my grandmother, and I rode around, showing them the town after a night of morphine.
My mother is a saint if there ever was one.
This went on for awhile, until one day, I decided to quit my job and move back home. I was ready to give up. I went and talked to one of my friends, who lived in a cottage directly behind my old apartment, and he convinced me, that as I'd shown him an immense amount of kindness when he was down on his luck, that I should have a vacation before giving up.
I spent the next 2 months or so getting high and fed on his dime, only having to help clean up around the place and help out with any cash I could make independantly of a real job, which wasn't much, as the market for gigalos was "bottomed out" at the time.
Eventually, I got tired of getting high every day, and doing absolutely nothing but play video games and hit on hippie chicks. I decided to go home, and try and pull my shit together. I moved out soon after, and got a job in my hometown working for a screen-printer, listening to classical music all day, which is where I developed an enjoyment of it.Soon after, I went and hiked some of the AT, and ended up moving to Georgia, but that's another story altogether.
I still keep in touch with my friend who put me up for a vacation. He's married to a Russian chick in Richmond, Va, and I'm living in Georgia and married to a German born army brat. I brew my own beer now, it's low alcohol, although I hardly ever make or drink it anymore.
I occasionally smoke pot, but you probably wouldn't know it, as I don't advertise the fact, and I look just like Joe Schmoe office worker.
And that is my story about that.
User Reviews
Submitted by Ejryuu (user info) at 2008-10-08 12:37:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What are the odds after clicking your linkwhore in a post today that you'd feature a picture of Steel Reserve? Good story, though~
Submitted by tatersninja (user info) at 2008-09-18 16:13:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
retard zoo... -c
Submitted by sage104 (user info) at 2008-09-18 15:48:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Interesting.
Submitted by jtrujillo34 (user info) at 2008-09-18 15:05:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2007-11-13 22:26:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2007-11-13 22:03:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
holy fuck.
just...
holy fuck.
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2007-10-25 21:48:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
your life sucked. dont ever put rose coloured glasses on about it.
it was a good anecdote, however.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-10-08 10:37:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
How did I miss this????
AWESOME
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-10-04 18:50:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
By now, everyone should know what's coming...
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-10-04 18:49:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-10-04 18:48:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2007-10-04 17:25:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nope, different story, not on ubersite.
In regards to music, I usually only send people stuff when my roommates have gone to bed, and I'm usually not sober. So, what has happened is I've tried to send more Amon Tobin, but it takes too long and drunken me gets angry and moves on to something less stressful.
Don't worry, you'll get it.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-10-04 12:53:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
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Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2007-10-04 12:48:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Get teh fuck outta my apartment"
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That reminded me of a drunken garage story.
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http://www.ubersite.com/m/110295
this?
Also, I'm still waiting on my music....
Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2007-10-04 12:48:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Get teh fuck outta my apartment"
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That reminded me of a drunken garage story.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-10-04 12:28:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH (user info) at 2007-10-04 11:56:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
fun read
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-10-04 11:56:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You're right Monkey; sometimes all you can do is move the turd to another pocket.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-10-04 11:37:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-10-04 11:23:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WOO HOO! I was right about this being an awesome post.
I still don't believe you though as at the time of the 'black chunks' incident I doubt you had the mental capacity to retain memory and it sounds like the kind of thing a liar would say.
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Nope, this is all 100% accurate. If I had lied about something, I would admit it in an attempt at humor. I would fail at my attempt, but at least I would have tried.
Therefore, I suppose we shall have to agree to disagree on this matter.
Submitted by Hilarity_Ensues (user info) at 2007-10-04 11:26:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow.....
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2007-10-04 11:23:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WOO HOO! I was right about this being an awesome post.
I still don't believe you though as at the time of the 'black chunks' incident I doubt you had the mental capacity to retain memory and it sounds like the kind of thing a liar would say.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-10-04 10:11:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Interesting tale...kind of rambled in spots, but there was a glue holding most of the story together.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-10-04 09:57:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-10-04 01:19:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Enjoyed this. Maybe because the Upton house, or whatever, reminds me a lot of a place I lived in for a few months in my 20s. Lots of drugs, but I only drank ('cept for some occasional weed) and was considered the responsible one. I'll bet half those people are dead now.
Comes a time to grow up.
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Being the responsible one sucked. As far as all those people, my best friend there ended up a homeless drunk, and is just now getting his shit together, working for his dad at a Domino's Pizza joint.
I sincerely hope that Greg, the Jersey crackhead is dead. He was a total piece of shit.
Submitted by Maddog (user info) at 2007-10-04 08:43:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"The entire floor was one giant retard zoo"
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A good read, and this line in particular made me laugh out loud. Nice imagery.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2007-10-04 05:51:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What Orph said.
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-10-04 04:34:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this, good read.
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2007-10-04 03:54:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
interesting and well written.
Submitted by lungfish (user info) at 2007-10-04 01:19:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Enjoyed this. Maybe because the Upton house, or whatever, reminds me a lot of a place I lived in for a few months in my 20s. Lots of drugs, but I only drank ('cept for some occasional weed) and was considered the responsible one. I'll bet half those people are dead now.
Comes a time to grow up.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-10-03 23:35:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Steak was not impressed. Steak finds you to be just below the average line, making you just above oxygen waster, but just below tard.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-10-03 23:26:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
This had been a much longer post titled "Ubercon!" which I intended to explain within the post as Ubercon.....fessions. It felt so good to write it all out, that it got too long, and so I decided to save the confessional list detailing my masturbatory habits and strange beliefs for another day.
As for grammatical and spelling errors, I hope you'll forgive me, as this was written on Notepad because my new crappy computer didn't come with MSWord. Sorry.