The Best of Times Led Me to the Worst of Times (long) (1020 hits)
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Submitted by fudgepacknuts (View user info) at 2005-05-03 10:53:30 EDT
Apparently they're called "gazing balls."
I did not know that six years ago. Every time I drove past that house on Oak Grove Road I thought I was looking at some sort of alien spacecraft or some peculiar interstellar docking station or something. The sun's rays bounced off the neon blue orb and caught my eye every time I drove by the thing. It sat in the middle of some unknown man's front yard with its supporting column surrounded by azaleas, ferns, and other assorted flora. And I absolutely hated the thing. It was an atrocious site, it looked completely out of place, and because I saw it every day, my enmity grew and escalated until one day I could not stand its presence any fucking more.
Let me give you some background information: The time is late August, 1998. The setting is Essex Fells, NJ (a very small residential town blanketed with trees, large mansions, swimming pools, and affluent WASPs). Summer is almost over and I'm one week away from being a freshman at the University of Michigan. My parents are in Detroit at some wedding, my bags are pretty much packed by this point, and I'm hanging out with two of my closest friends; Matt and Joe (do those names sound fake to you? Well....they are. Those are some fake names). Matt and Joe are leaving for their respective colleges (Cornell and Lehigh) the very next day and we are all getting stoned in my backyard. The sun is setting around 9 pm on a beautiful late August day when we decide to go to a nearby 7-11 for some nourishment (read: munchies).
And so our story begins.....
We take three separate cars (which to this day, I have NO idea why we did) and drive to the 7-11 on Bloomfield Ave. We fiddle about for a few minutes, grab some food and drinks, and head to the counter. There, I see a disposable camera and decide to pick it up as well. Why I decided to get the camera, I do not know, but oh the pictures we took that night.
Matt drove off first, followed by Joe, and I, camera and Cool Ranch Doritos in tow, took the rear (insert witty gay jokes here). We start heading back to my place when Matt decides to stop halfway in front of the house with the blue orb. He pulls over to the side of the road and Joe and I follow suit. We all hop into Joe's car and look at each other with those menacing eyes that dumb, stoned, and stupid 18 year-olds can give. We all grimace and peer into the neighboring front lawn and nod at each other; knowing full well that we were all thinking the exact same thing.
That instant, after making sure the coast was clear, Joe flings open his door, runs out into the front lawn, picks up the entire lawn ornament (orb, supporting column, and whatever dirt it picked up from underneath together), opens his Land Cruiser trunk , tosses it in the back, and hops back into the front seat. Matt and I were wide eyed and laughing uncontrollably at this. We figured stealing this thing was grand idea, but we never realized we would actually do it.
So there we were. The three of us, still sitting in front of this man's house (now sans blue orb), laughing our faces off until our bellies ached, in the car with a 3 foot long, 30 pound lawn orb in the trunk.
"What should we do with it?" I ask, while trying to catch my breath.
"I want it in my room. Kind of like a trophy or something." Joe says while leaning over the back seat to look at his prize.
"No, dude...that's gay," I say "Let's just smash the shit out of it."
"Hey...hmmmmm," Matt exclaims "that's a fucking good idea. Let's go to that baseball field down the street from you. I think I have a bat in my trunk. We can use that."
And so it was. Matt and I get out of Joe's car and into ours. With Joe leading the way to the nearby park (it's actually the lawn of the town's elementary school with two baseball diamonds on it), I again follow the two and park my car behind both of theirs in front of the field. Joe gets out of his car, grabs the ornament out of the back, picks it up, and gently places it on the ground in the middle of the field with Matt and me following closely behind.
Matt, now with a baseball bat in hand, asks "who wants to do the honors?"
"I am so down for that," I say as I grab the bat. And doing my best Tollbooth Willy impersonation I say "I'm gonna come ova there and beat yer fackin' head in wit a Louisvlle fackin' sluggah. Whaddya think of that, assfuck?"
And with one swift motion, I swing the bat with all my might into the column of the gazing ball; cracking it in half on impact, sending the orb and half of the column flying ten feet in front of me with the bottom half of the column simply tipping over. The orb itself remained intact...only the column was broken at this point.
Laughter all around.
"Dude, gimme that," Joe says as he takes the bat from my hand. He walks up to the orb, lifts the bat above his head with both hands (as would with an axe), and swings downward with a force so mighty I felt the ground shake from ten feet away.
Glass is everywhere. Tiny shards of shiny blue glass landed near my feet, on the baseball field, in Matt's hair, etc etc. I'd say the glass spread out in a good circular 15 foot diameter. I take out my camera and snap photos as Matt and Joe are stomping on the glass pieces surrounding us. It was at this point where I started to feel a little ill. Not from the act, but the mixture of all this excitement and the food I had eaten earlier was not making my stomach happy.
"Hold up, guys, I have a stomach ache," I say "I need to find a toilet."
"FUCK. THAT!" exclaims a surprised Joe "You guys wait right here, I'll be right back. I've got a great idea."
Joe runs to his car while Matt continues to do some sort of "Lord of the Flies" tribal dance on the shards of broken orb, smashing any piece he finds larger than the size of a fist. I'm just standing there, grimacing in pain as my stomach ache grows more and more intense.
A minute later, I see Joe running back to use with a huge wad of Kleenex in his hands. "Here," he says to me while handing me the wad, "use this."
"What do you mean?"
"You should completely take a dump on that thing and use this as toilet paper."
Looking back at the situation, I should have known this was a dumb idea. But I was high. And I REALLY had to go. And as they say, 'when you gotta go....etc'
So Matt and Joe take a few steps back and laugh heartily as I drop trou, squat down, and go to business on the broken shards of glass. Matt even has the good sense to take a picture of me doing this. About 2 minutes later, I am done, and Matt and Joe are literally on the ground rolling in laughter, tears of happiness rolling down their faces, and their hands on their stomachs trying to ease the belly aches from so much laughing.
I join in on the fun, look back at the mess we all made, snap one more photo and we all walk back to our respective cars together. It was a great college sendoff for everyone. No one was hurt and good times were had by all.
________________________________________________________________________
The next day, Matt and Joe leave for their colleges and I take the camera to the local Photoshop to be developed. It was around noon, I had the house to myself, and I decide to go swimming to kill some time. I hear the phone ringing from inside, so I hop out of the pool, fall to the ground as I run up my concrete steps (remember that rule of never running around the pool? yeah...that's good advice), bang up my left knee, and continue to run into the house.
"Hello?" I say out of breath and clutching my knee.
"Hi. This is Broadway Photo calling. I just wanted to let you know that your pictures are ready and you can come down any time to pick them up."
"Um, thanks?"
Now you see, I don't know where you get your pictures developed, but Broadway Photo is not the kind of place that calls someone to tell them their pictures are done. It's normally just "Yeah, they'll be ready at 5" or "anytime tomorrow" as you drop off the film. But nope, this time, they actually call me up to tell me my pictures are ready.
"Weird, but whatever." I thought.
God I'm dumb.
So I dry myself off, throw on a t-shirt, keep my swimming trunks on, put on some flip-flops, get into my car, and drive off to Broadway Photo. I get to the store and pick up my pictures with great enthusiasm; waiting in immense anticipation to see the glorious work I had done the night prior. I bring them back to my car and a smile immediately comes to my face as I see the hilarity that ensued. Pictures of me smashing the column with the bat, pictures of Joe axing the orb, pictures of Matt stomping on the glass, pictures of me doing Number 2 on the shattered gazing ball. I laugh as I flip through each one.
Still smiling and wide eyed, I pull out of my parking spot and get back onto Bloomfield Ave. Something odd is transpiring, though: following me out of the parking lot are two police cars. Their lights aren't on, so I'm worried yet. But as soon as I got on to the street, RREEEEEEEEEEEeerrrrrrrrrRREEEEEEEEEEEerrrrrr......
Sirens and lights start roaring behind me and my heart rate jumps up twenty-fold. I pull over to the side of the busy road and think to myself "Ok, there's no possible way they know anything. Maybe I have a tail-light out or something."
"DRIVER," I hear from a booming voice behind my car, "TURN OFF YOUR ENGINE AND SLOWLY STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE!"
Now I'm shitting my pants. "Ok, it's not a tail light" I'm thinking "but can they really know what we did? How? What? Huh?"
I shut off the engine and slowly make my way out to the rear of my car where two policemen are waiting for me. They must've seen that I was a nervous wreck and I think they got a silent kick out of it. Damn cops.
"Son, we have reason to believe that your vehicle was involved in a misdemeanor last night." says Cop #1.
"Ok?" I say. And to myself, I'm thinking "Did my sister use my car? Can I blame my housekeeper? Where else was I? Do I have ANY alibis? Can I make anything up? SHOULD I make something up? Am I dreaming? My armpits are very sweaty right now. FUCK I want to just go home."
"Do you have any idea what we're talking about?" asks Cop #2 with a stern, yet I-know-what-you-did-you-little-punk look on his face.
"I.....was...out....for, um.....MOST...of the day yesterday." That's the best I could come up with.
"Yes, son. We understand that. Where was this vehicle at approximately 10 pm last night?"
My mind is now wandering for plausible answers and my eyes are looking up straight up at the sky (and if anyone knows anything about liars, they usually look up when they are making up stories). Before I even say anything, and probably since I was just standing there silently for about 30 (very long) seconds, Cop #1 chimes in: "Listen, we already know what happened and lying will REALLY do you no good. So you might as well just tell us the truth. Everything will be much easier that way."
It was very difficult to look these guys in their eyes for some reason. "Fuck it," I thought.
So I blurt out, "my car was.....at the elementary school last night.....around that time."
The cops nod as I basically tell them what MOST of what happened (leaving out my friend's names and the fact that I shat on the thing).
"Son, you have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney...." Yadda yadda yadda <<making hand-talking kind of like an alligator motion>>
"Now," says Cop #2, "we can either handcuff you right here, put you in the backseat of my car, and have your car impounded, or you can follow us directly to the police station right now."
What an absurd option. Were they even close to kidding me with this one?
"I'll follow you."
________________________________________________________________________
At the police station, I'm fingerprinted, questioned for about an hour, and asked about my friends. Not wanting to drag anyone else into this mess, I tell the cops that while I chose not to divulge my friend's information, I would hand write and sign a full confession to them right then and there. They agree, and I start writing.....in explicit detail (but still leaving out the fact that I shat on the thing).
An older cop with a graying moustache (oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that cops 1 & 2 both had thick black moustaches....straight out of the Beastie Boys 'Sabotage' video....but these guys were much more jacked) comes up to me after I hand in my confession and tells me that the owner of the lawn ornament called the police that morning telling them that his gazing ball had been stolen. After I'd arrived at the police station, they called up that man (whose name escapes me at the moment, so let's just call him 'Mr. Italian' for now) and told him that they found the 'perp' and that I'd signed a full confession.
Mr. Italian tells the cops that this gazing ball is a family heirloom and that he'd like to meet me face to face.
AWESOME!!
The cops tell me that they don't know how much the gazing ball costs, but if it's a family heirloom, it might be up to $10,000 or so. I shit my pants again at the sound of this figure. They tell me that I'm free to go home, but that they will call me when Mr. Italian comes to the station so that we could work out some kind of compensation (read: pay the guy off so I don't go to jail for trespassing, theft, and destruction of private property).
"OH...by the way," says the aging cop, "before you go, you wouldn't happen to have any evidence of this act would you? Perhaps a video, perhaps some PICTURES?"
Yeah, he knew. But how? Regardless, I reluctantly spew out, "yeeeaaahhhh, I have some pictures. They're in my car. I'll get them, hold on." I was dumbfounded as to how these cops (who I always thought were gun-toting morons) knew all of this. Nevertheless, I give the cops my pictures and they have the nerve to laugh their faces off in front of me (luckily, the picture of me shitting came out fuzzy and dark, so that issue didn't come up). After they dry their eyes, they tell me again that they will call me at home to let me know when to come back to the station to meet Mr. Italian face to face.
________________________________________________________________________
I'm in a panic, ok? That's the best way to describe it. The cops just told me that I might owe some stranger up to $10,000 for some blue orb I helped destroy. I did not know what to do. So I call up my mom at her hotel in Detroit. Dumb, I now know, but I WAS PANICKED!
She wasn't in her room at the time I called, and since cell phones were not the norm, I just left her the following message: "Mom, I'm in trouble, call me back."
Wow. Wow. Un-fucking-believable. That's the message I leave my mom on her hotel voicemail. I don't know about your mother, but that is the kind the kind of message that will not only send my mom into a tizzy, but will also make her go insane with worry and frustration. I might as well have said, 'mom, my leg was chopped off and my lungs have collapsed, please send help.' Goddam I'm dumb.
And not ONE MINUTE later do I get a phone call from the aging cop. Seriously, one minute.
"Son, we're going to need you to come down to the station now. [Mr. Italian] is on his way and he says that "gazing ball" is worth $100. So if you could bring that with you, that would help matters greatly." $100. Wow.
So I again traverse back to the police station where I meet at very robust, middle-aged, messy, dirty man: Mr. Italian. He looks me up and down for quite a while as I just stand there apologizing profusely for what I'd done. He tells me about how his dad helped lay bricks in the town and how he doesn't want the town to go to hell because of kids like me. I accept this and again apologize to the man. He finally accepts my apology and agrees not to press any charges and I fork over $100.
I take a huge sigh of relief as I'm pretty sure this ordeal is over as I watch Mr. Italian leave the police station. I thank the policemen (I have no idea why) and I turn to leave but am quickly stopped....
"Uh son," says the aging cop, "hold on a second. Could you come over here for a moment?" <<dramatic pause>> "Your mother is on the phone and would like to talk to you."
Time is standing still. My palms and armpits become soaked with sweat. I close my eyes, lower my head, take a long exhale, and mouth out a very slow "ffffuuuuuucccckkkk."
With a coy smirk on his face, the cop hands me the phone.
I quietly mutter out an almost silent "hello?"
No response.
A bit louder, "Hello?"
I hear breathing, but still no response.
"Mom?"
I hear whimpering. I hear breathing. But I hear no words.
"You don't know what you've just done to your mother, she can't even talk right now" my step-father says while taking the phone from my mom. "We've called the house, the hospital, the fire station, and now we find you at the police station? What. The. FUCK. Did. You. Do?!"
"Can you please just tell mom that I'm ok. Nothing is the matter and I will explain everything when you get home from your trip. I promise everything is ok."
"We're on our way to the airport right now. You are in such deep shit and you BETTER be home when we get there."
And so it was.
__________________________________________________________________________
Epilogue: So how did the cops know? How did they pin my car? Well, let me tell you: infrared fucking cameras in the trees by the elementary school! Yes. In my town, we have motion activated infrared cameras in our tree that are activated after 9 pm. Anything the gets in its path is shot and sent to the police station. Since my car was in parked behind Matt and Joe, the cops got a clear as day picture of my license plate.
And the pictures? How did they know about those? Some guy in a house next to the school saw the three of us taking pictures in the park and called the cops. The cops then called up all the local photo shops and told them to notify the police if they find any suspicious pictures of activities in a park. And yes, you guessed it; Broadway photo called the police and set me up.
I am a fool. Well, I was a fool.
User Reviews
Submitted by Wiggles (user info) at 2005-05-04 05:32:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/64063
http://www.ubersite.com/m/62853
http://www.ubersite.com/m/62569
http://www.ubersite.com/m/60292
http://www.ubersite.com/m/59361
Submitted by Wiggles (user info) at 2005-05-04 05:28:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I've got a great idea. Let's have all the women on Ubersite submit pictures for a post in which they will be rated based on their physical appearance.
You're going to make a really mediocre stepdad someday.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-05-03 21:13:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I wish there was some assault or murder in here somewhere, too.
Submitted by fudgepacker (user info) at 2005-05-03 20:51:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Wiggles (user info) at 2005-05-03 19:17:56 (#)
Ranking: -2
Didn't even read it.
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you add nothing to this site but annoyance and idiocy. grow up you tool.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-05-03 20:01:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
pretty good tale!
Submitted by Wiggles (user info) at 2005-05-03 19:17:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Didn't even read it.
Submitted by rayrayshanaynay (user info) at 2005-05-03 14:28:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hilarious.
Submitted by fudgepacker (user info) at 2005-05-03 14:03:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by TheEastman (user info) at 2005-05-03 12:48:17 (#)
Ranking: 1
If you were going to go in depth anyway, you should have at least included a detailed report of how you got your ass chewed out by your folks.
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fair enough. when they got home, they were visibly distraught and quite angry at me, and rightly so, i guess. i explained everything to them and afterwards they made me write a letter apologizing to Mr. Italian for what I'd done. so i did.
and a week later i left for school.
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2005-05-03 13:47:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sigh... I've always wanted to buy on of those gazing balls... but I never have because I know the urge to smash it would be too strong.
Thank you for letting me live vicariously.
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-05-03 13:18:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
BUSTED!!
Submitted by PrissyB (user info) at 2005-05-03 12:58:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
The Best of Times Led Zeppelin...
Wait! What were we talkin' 'bout???
/PloobiusIV predicted this "vu deja".
Submitted by TheEastman (user info) at 2005-05-03 12:48:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I can't believe I read all of that, given everything that went down in the story.
If you were going to go in depth anyway, you should have at least included a detailed report of how you got your ass chewed out by your folks.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-05-03 12:37:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
We used to drive-by shoot pellet guns at them. They smash easily.
Submitted by Hands_Rambone (user info) at 2005-05-03 12:31:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
You're a dumbass and not because you did it but for how you did it.
Submitted by UberGirl (user info) at 2005-05-03 12:03:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This post reminds me of the time that I tinkled in my neighbor's pool.
Fun times.
Submitted by SiskelandFatboy (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:53:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Much fun. Should have left the folks out of the loop though, could have gotten away semi-scott free. Not that you don't know
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:27:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Hotpocket4you (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:08:34 (#)
Ranking: -2
WTF I'm not reading all that
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Tool! He said it was long.
Submitted by fudgepacker (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:25:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
yeah. sorry about the length. i just didn't want to cut it up into a series because i felt it was better told as one full story.
it was definitely fun to write, though.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:12:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
those gazing balls suck. i hate everyone who thinks it is ok to NOT destroy those. and everyone who buys them and makes them and looks and thema nd doens't swear.
Submitted by Hotpocket4you (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:08:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
WTF I'm not reading all that
Submitted by Hadooken (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:08:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
fuckin cameras
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:04:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You're so going to hell you naughty, naughty boy!!
Awesome story!! You rule.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-05-03 11:02:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I could have gotten you a replacement gazing ball, pedestal included, at Big Lots for $12.99.
You did that guy a favor. Those things belong in trailer parks only.