Tommy Kaos Novel FINAL 9 1

The Life and Times of Tommy Kaos Novel
The Life and

Times
Of Tommy
Kaos
Novel
Disclaimer: ALL OF THE CHARACTERS
IN THIS BOOK ARE FICTITIOUS AND
CREATIONS OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION.
Any resemblance to actual person living or dead is

therefore coincidental. The same goes for all events as well
purely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book or any portion
thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner
whatsoever without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America first printing,

2016
ISBN# 9798471605992
Revised Novel copyright ©2021
by T. L. Henry Tommy Kaos® name Trademarked by T. L.

Henry
“In Loving Memory of
Crayton Henry Adams”
1919-1977
My grandpa, My best friend….
Top Customer Reviews June 27, 2016
Fantastic book! I had a hard time putting the

book down.... I would say just one more
chapter and before I knew it, I had read three
chapters before I was FORCED to put it down
because my eyes would no longer focus. Just
ordered his other two books last night. Can't
wait for them to get here so I can see what
happens next. May 10, 2016
This is a very awesome book!!! I’m not a

reader at all and this book sucked me in and
had me going back for more!! Reading the
second one now and it is just as good!!! Give
‘em hell Tommy!! July 18, 2016
Loved this book! It kept me on the edge of my

seat, and I couldn't stop reading. You will NOT
regret reading this! Such a roller coaster ride.
“Five minutes ago is gone never to be seen
again.
Five minutes from now isn’t here yet.
What are you going to do with it?”
**ADULT CONTENT**
THE LIFE AND TIMES OF TOMMY KAOS NOVEL
Introduction
My name is Tommy Kaos, and this is my story. I’ve been called a

lot of names throughout this life; bastard, son of a bitch,
asshole, piss ant, lil’ shit, and piece of shit, to name a few. The
events are real, but I’ve changed all of the names in this story to
protect the innocent as well as the guilty. It was a very rough
life by any normal standards, but it was what it was. I’m telling
my story the only way I know how… raw, dirty, and gritty just
like I lived and breathed it. I don’t blame anyone for my
fuckups. I landed in the life that the roll of the proverbial dice
gave me is all I can figure. I’m still trying to figure it out to this
day. It’s been a very bumpy ride, but most of all, very Kaotic.
With that said…. Enjoy it as best you can.
TOMMY KAOS
T. L. Henry
Chapter 1
I was born the first child of a 19-year-old girl who had no real
aspirations other than to party her ass off. She’s a six-foot Amazon,
with auburn hair, big bones, and a mean streak fitting for a man. Her
favorite pastimes were drinking, dancing, and fucking. That’s Mom.
As the story goes, she got pregnant by some dumbass schmuck who
got drafted into Vietnam’s War and left her with a belly full of me. He
wasn’t in a month before he got himself killed and she wasn’t
wasting time waiting on him or his funeral. She latched onto another
poor fool and claimed he was the daddy. Sheryl wanted to be taken
care of, and Tom was the fool picked for the job.
They settled down in a tiny one-bedroom mobile home on the

side of a red-clay, dirt hill in Hilderbran, North Carolina. Yes, I’m a
hillbilly kid. The trailer was old, worn out and well-used. The yard
was patchy with red patches everywhere, very messy. It was
situated on the side of a hill with a steep incline. Another trailer was
sitting at the bottom of the hill. Around the bend was a warehouse
kind of looking building that had some sort of furniture sales inside.
I never went inside, but I got to look through the door once.
My first real memory of anything worth discussing was total

Kaos. I awoke to Mom screaming “You killed my baby, you son of a
bitch!” My mom had given birth to a Lil’ girl a couple months before.
Her name was Tammy. I remember her, somewhat, as a beautiful Lil’
dark haired baby. My other sibling is May. She’s three years younger
than me.
I was asleep in a Lil’ hallway leading to the only bedroom. It

wasn’t a bed or a bedroom I was sleeping on; it was more like a
wooden shelf or trunk with a cushion on top. I was just big enough to
fit on it. I was five years old at the time.
As I said, I awoke to Mom yelling at Dad saying he killed her

baby. Being five years old, I had no idea what being “killed” meant,
but by the screams and crying I knew it wasn’t good. I sat up in my
makeshift bed and looked to my right to see Mom sitting up in bed,
rocking my baby sister, Tammy, in her arms. Mom was crying and
shaking her head, as if to say, “No, this can’t be happening!”
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I got out of bed and my dad told me to go into the living room
with my sister and my cousin Pee Wee; he was spending the night on
our sofa. I bet he wished he’d have stayed home that night. I went to
the living room and stood beside Pee Wee and May, all the while
watching that back bedroom, and my mom rocking back and forth
with my baby sister.
My dad had left the trailer to go call an ambulance and God

knows who else. He came back and stood by the bed with Mom until
we heard a car pull in the driveway. It was my 6’7” grandfather,
Henry, and he came in the door with a very large, shiny handgun.
When Mom seen him, she started screaming anew. Grandpa

raced into the bedroom and pointed the gun at my dad. From what I
could see, because my grandpa was blocking the door, my dad was
opening the back door that exited in the bedroom. As he was running
through it my grandpa fired the gun. I never saw my dad again. I
heard he survived the shot and ran like hell with half an ear missing.
Grandpa was close to killing him that’s for sure.
I found out later on why my mom kept screaming, “You killed

my baby” at my dad, and why my grandpa shot at him. Dad came in
drunk, and Tammy was in the crib in the living room crying. Dad put
Tammy in the bed with Mom so he could continue drinking in the
living room. After he finished drinking, he climbed into bed and
apparently rolled over on top of Tammy and smothered her to death.
Mom said she heard a whimpering and noticed Tammy’s arm stuck
under Dad. She pulled Tammy out from under him, and Tammy was
dead. That’s when Mom started screaming. What a sad way to start a
collection of memories, but it was what it was.…. The Life and Times
of Tommy Kaos. Please continue and enjoy the madness.
Memories of that time come in bits and pieces; I’m sure it’s
because of the Kaos happening before a five-year-old’s eyes. So,
please forgive me for skipping some of the mundane parts to keep
this story going.
We moved into Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Hickory,

North Carolina, not far from Hilderbran. Shortly after we attended
the funeral for Tammy, Mom disappeared.
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At the funeral home, I seen my little sister in the tiny casket and
didn’t know why. Everyone told me she was with Jesus, but I didn’t
know who that was, especially because I could see her lying there and
didn’t see any Jesus anywhere. My Uncle D.J. burst out crying because
of my questions and kicked a huge hole in a door. Everyone had to try
and calm him down. I was still confused.
The next memory was of the burial. We were at my

grandparent’s church and Tammy was in her casket at the front. I
remember hearing thunder outside and watching everyone’s head
turn to look out of the windows. When the thunder died down
everyone looked expectantly at the door. In came Mom and a bunch
of long-haired, bearded bikers. This was my first encounter with The
Outlaws Motorcycle Club. As they strode towards the front of the
church, Mom leading the way, my grandpa and his four large sons
stood up and blocked their path. Mom said she wanted to see her
baby, but Grandpa told her she was drunk, and she’d better leave.
One of the bikers said something and Grandpa pointed at him and
told him he needed to leave, too. After a few seconds of a standoff,
Mom and the Outlaws left.
Tammy was buried behind the church in a tiny cemetery plot. I

felt some sort of loss but wasn’t certain what kind it was. I just knew
my little sister was placed in the ground, and my mom and dad were
missing from my life. But, I had Grandpa and Grandma, so I felt safe.
Sometime in the near future, Mom came back to Grandpa’s

house. She was very drunk. I had just come home from elementary
school to see her seated in a chair near the kitchen. Mom called to me,
but Grandpa stopped me from going to her. He was standing in front
of her with Grandma next to him. Mom was crying and swaying in the
chair. Grandpa asked her how she could just leave her kids and go off
to party with a bunch of bikers and Mom said, “Fuck you! I’ll do what
I want to!” Grandpa slapped her with a huge right hand. Mom fell out
of the chair and was out cold. I started crying. Yeah, I know, “little
baby” …. give me a break, I was five.
Anyway, Grandpa picked Mom up and sat her back in the chair.
He woke her up and asked her again “Are you going to grow up and
be a mother to the two children you do have?” Mom said, “FUCK…...”
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and got knocked out again. Grandpa didn’t even wait for her to finish
the statement. Grandma told him that was enough, and they put Mom
to bed.
T. L. Henry
Chapter 2
After a short period of time, Mom settled down and we moved

to a crappy apartment. It was an upstairs apartment in an old run-
down house owned by an old lady. I don’t remember much about the
place because I was still just trying to take in all of the new
experiences I had to deal with. One minute, I’m living in a trailer, and
the next minute, my world’s turned upside down and I’m shuffled all
over the place witnessing all sorts of crazy stuff. I was a quiet kid at
that age partly because I was afraid of getting beaten, but mostly it
was me observing my surroundings and the actions of people in it.
Being five years old, you can’t process too much, but you can see
what’s good or bad. I was surrounded by bad.
Living in the new apartment wasn’t much of an adventure for

me. Mom made me stay indoors most of the time, and I had to
“watch” my sister, who was two years old. Mom would go out at all
hours and leave us alone or with some poor, neighbor kid. It wasn’t
long before thunder came home.
I remember sleeping on a sofa with May at the other end and

our babysitter sleeping in a chair when we were awakened by the
noise. The babysitter looked outside and said, “Oh my God!” She came
to the sofa and sat between us as the side of the house started
shaking due to all the people coming up the old, ragged stairs along
the side of the house.
Mom was the first to enter, then a whole lot more men and
women came in behind her. I don’t know how many people came in,
but it was more than a dozen and they were here to party hard. They
were all bikers, and I remember the crossed pistons and the Outlaw
insignia on the back of their jean and leather vests and jackets. Mom
had on one, too. The babysitter ran out of the door, crying and upset,
so I was left to hold May while they partied all around us. Mom was
somewhere in the apartment, but I don’t remember seeing her much.
I don’t remember how much time passed before the living

room door opened up, and there stood Grandpa with my Uncle
Jimmy. They both had guns in their hands, and they were pissed off.
We ran to them, and they put us behind them, and they called out for
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Mom. Mom came staggering out of the back bedroom barely dressed.
She was cussing mad to see Grandpa and walked right up to him, only
to get knocked out by a huge right jab to the nose. The bikers started
to raise a fuss until Grandpa leveled his gun at some guy’s head.
Grandpa told all of them that he was leaving with me and my sister
and would kill anyone who tried to stop him. Nobody said anything
as we were led down the stairs and put into Grandpa’s car. I
remember feeling excited after what I had just seen. When we got
back to Grandpa’s house, we were put to bed. I went to sleep knowing
I was safe, once again.
Sometime later, either a few days or a couple of weeks, Mom

came to get us. She showed up with some dude that must’ve said
something stupid to Grandpa, because Grandpa hit him in the face,
and the dude collapsed in the front yard. Mom went to screaming
obscenities at Grandpa, and he knocked her out, too. I knew by seeing
him hit other people that I never wanted him to hit me.
Grandpa led us into the house and closed the door. I watched
out the living room window until the dude woke up, got Mom up, and
they left. It was quite a while before I saw her again.
During this time, Grandpa and I became close. He was my best

friend, and I loved him greatly. He’d take me to school, which was
only four blocks away, and then he’d be waiting for me after school.
We’d go to Lake Hickory, and he’d teach me how to fish. On the
weekends, he taught me how to mow the yard and work in the
garden.
Saturday mornings were the most special because we’d watch

Worldwide Wrestling together. He’d sit in his favorite white chair,
and I’d sit on the floor between his legs. We’d watch wrestling, and I’d
grab his legs and bite him as he’d twist my hand and pulled my hair
to get me to squeal. We’d even roll around on the floor and he’d let
me try some wrestling moves on him. Those times were the happiest,
sanest moments of my life. He was my role model, my best friend, my
grandpa.
T. L. Henry
Chapter 3
As time went by, Mom came back to pick us up. Grandpa wasn’t
letting us go that easily. The guy Mom was with was different from
the bikers. He was still wearing long hair with a full beard and
mustache, but he was more of a hillbilly. His name was Ben and he
somehow persuaded Grandpa that he was going to “save” Mom from
her madness and take us all to his mountain home to live, far away
from the bikers and Mom’s party-loving friends. I don’t see why Mom
was willing to give that all up, but she put on a show to get us to go
with her. Grandpa and Grandma relented, and we were sadly loaded
up in Ben’s pickup truck, and headed for Mountain View, North
Carolina.
I remember being really sad at having to leave Grandpa and all

the comfort he gave me and May, the safety, shelter, food, and love. I
was about to begin another adventure and didn’t know what to
expect. I do believe this is where I started to dislike my mother. She
kept the Kaos coming into our lives, and I wasn’t liking it at all. But, as
a child, I could do nothing but see my future come towards me.
It was a long ride to Ben’s house, and when we pulled up to it, I

was wide-eyed and in shock. The place looked like a shack on the side
of a hill of woods. He pulled the truck off the main road onto a patch
of worn dirt that I guess was the driveway. The house was down the
hill with the backside up on stilts to level it off. It had a well next to
some stairs coming off the back door. There was a path leading to a
tiny shack that I later learned was our toilet (outhouse). There was
junk everywhere; car motors, bicycle parts, chicken wire pens full of
all sorts of animals, goats roaming everywhere, piles of logs and cut
up wood. The place looked crazy, but also exciting for me; I was about
to explore new sights and experiences.
Mom and Ben told me to go and explore, but to be careful

around the creek at the bottom of the hill; snakes were in and out of
it all the time. He made me take May with me, so we set out to roam. I
checked out every animal pen, chased the chickens, and played with
the dogs. I didn’t roam out of eyesight of the house because I was
afraid of getting lost. What fascinated me the most was the woods.
T. L. Henry
They surrounded our lil’ house and I wanted to go into them and see
what I could see. That came later on.
Ben took me around and showed me how to do all sorts of cool

stuff. Even the chores were fun. I pulled up well-water, chopped
wood and carried it into the house, and kept the animals fed. He
showed me how to set up animal traps and to watch out for snakes.
He taught me how to look for pine knots for fire starters, where
edible berries and mushrooms grew, and where to find the fish in the
creek. I learned how to go crawdad gigging, use a rifle, check the
traps, and tell the differences in a skunk, raccoon, and a possum foot
prints. I learned a ton of stuff during my stay in the hills.
We spent a couple of years in Ben’s home. I guess Mom enjoyed

the white lightening that Ben made, so she had no reason to leave.
I went to school during this time but had to ride my homemade

bike to the bus stop and then ride the bus for a long ride to and from
school. I was so far up in the mountains that there wasn’t a school
close by. Ben helped me build a bike with a chainsaw motor when I
complained to him that I couldn’t pedal up the steep inclined road
that led to the house. He put an old chainsaw motor onto my bicycle.
He had me help him put the bike together, and I was in Lil’ boy’s
heaven.
The first time I climbed on it, I pulled the throttle and the bike
leapt out from under me, it was that powerful. Ben had to teach me to
take it easy at first. After I got the hang of it, I wasn’t to be stopped. I
tore up the road for hours. You could hear me from a mile away. It
sounded like someone was zooming up and down the mountain road
revving a chainsaw like a mad man. I was having so much fun.
I’d ride the motorized bicycle to my bus stop and hide it under
a bridge until I got back after school. Then I’d hop on that bike, crank
it up, and tear up the road. I had to be moving pretty fast, too. I’d pass
tractors, trucks, and cars like they were sitting still. One day our local
state trooper got behind me and pulled me over. He couldn’t believe
his eyes. Here was a seven-year-old kid on a souped-up bicycle doing
60 miles per hour up an old two-lane, black-top road. He helped me
put the bike in his car’s trunk and he drove me home. I thought I was
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in trouble, but they all laughed it off and told me to go slower around
traffic. I said I would, but I wasn’t hearing that nonsense. I loved the
speed and excitement. When winter came around and it snowed, I
had Ben drive me to the bus stop. Winter sucked in the hills.
Not only was it cold, but it was freezing cold. The only heat in
our house was a pot-belly stove in the living room. It used to be in the
kitchen in the summertime, but in the winter, we moved it to the
living room. We all four slept in the living room, too. Anywhere else
in the house was freezing to walk into. Going outside was crazy, too,
especially when it snowed. We had to use the outhouse and get wood
and water from outside. BRRRR!
The only thing that was fun about winter was the food we ate:
lots of deer, bear, and raccoon stew. We always had a pot cooking on
the stove. When we were in hard times, and food was scarce for us,
the hill neighbors made sure we were well fed, too. Hill folk looked
out for one another.
That winter, October 12th, I turned eight years old; to me it

was just another day. All except for the .22 rifle I was given for my
birthday. That was an awesome gift. Ben had taught me how to shoot
already, so I was proficient with it. I tried to shoot everything that
moved in those woods. I killed every bird I saw, too. We even ate
those birds. Nothing went to waste. Not in the hills.
When springtime came along, I was back to traipsing through

the woods, hunting, and setting traps, but my life was fixing to change
once again. Mom had enough of the Spartan hillbilly life and wanted
to go back to Hickory. My feelings towards her grew dimmer every
day.
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Chapter 4
We got packed up and were driven back to Grandpa’s house. I

was mad, but glad to see Grandpa again. I missed him, although I did
get to see him a few times over the holidays. We stayed with him for a
bit until Mom got us a new apartment. Once again, The Outlaws
showed up and we were booted out of our apartment back to
Grandpa’s to live again.
On one certain occasion, Mom came home with someone who

said he was going to move us into his ranch in the country. We got
packed up and were driven by truck to some unknown place in North
Carolina. It wasn’t any ranch, but a small house on a dirt road with a
hen house in the back, some geese all around, and a pony in the yard.
Not bad, but no big deal. The guy was an alcoholic like Mom, so they’d
drink together and cuss a lot, but they let me, and May do whatever
as long as we stayed out of their way. I’d ride the pony, with May
behind me, up and down the dirt roads. I had to clean the chicken pen
and hen house a lot, as well as kill a chicken every now and then for
supper. That was cool to do. The guy taught me how to grab the
chicken by the neck and swing it around and around until I felt the
neck break. Then I’d just toss it onto the ground and watch it flop
around for minutes at a time until it died. Then I took it to Mom to
clean for supper.
There were numerous geese running around all over the place,
too. I hated the geese. They’d attack me every time I got near them.
I’d kick them and run like hell because I knew they were coming for
me. Sometimes it’d be a game for me, but sometimes not, especially
when I was doing a chore.
One goose in particular was a pain in my ass. It always came at

me, head down, wings out, and nipping at my heels. It didn’t give me
any breaks either. Every time it saw me it was coming.
One day, Mom told me to go kill a chicken for dinner. As I went

outside this goose came a honkin’ and threatening me and I thought,
“you know what? Why not have goose for dinner?” I ran from the
goose to get it to follow me to the side of the house, away from the
kitchen. As I turned the corner I turned on that goose and grabbed it
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by its neck and began swinging that heavy bastard in circles until I
felt its neck pop. I threw it in the yard and watched it twitch for a few
minutes, then took it inside to Mom. As soon as Mom saw that goose,
she snapped. She went to screaming and cussing at me, telling me I
was going to get a beating from her and him as soon as he saw the
goose.
Well, I did what any kid in my shoes would do—I started crying
and saying it wasn’t my fault, that the goose kept chasing me and
biting me and what difference did it make if we eat chickens or
geese? She wasn’t hearing it, she begun to beat my ass.
Mom never beat my ass with a belt or hands; she’d use

whatever was handy. At that time, she had a long-handled spoon and
thumped me upside my head a few times, grabbed me by my arm and
hit my ass a few times, and even my back. She put that spoon to work
on me, I’ll tell ya that. I was going in circles with her swinging that
spoon and catching me any where she could. After she got winded,
she let me go, and I bolted for the back door out into the yard and off
into the woods. I hid out ‘til dark and tried to sneak inside, but it
didn’t do me any good. He got a hold of me and used a belt on my
back, ass, and legs for what seemed like forever. I just crumbled onto
the floor and balled up, screaming, “I’m sorry” over and over again.
When he got tired, I was made to crawl to my bed and “stay there!” he
said. I was in too much pain to go anywhere, anyways.
The next day, Mom had us pack up our stuff. I guess he didn’t
like that I killed his pet goose, so he kicked us out and drove us back
to Grandpa’s house. I wasn’t mad at all. Mom was pissed off at me for
a while, but she got over it.
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Chapter 5
We stayed at Grandpa’s house for a while until Ben showed

back up. I guess he got lonely up in the hills and persuaded Mom to
take him back. We packed up, once again, and headed for the hills. I
was happy about it because I’d get to hunt and run through the
woods again, not to mention ride my bicycle with that chainsaw
motor. I missed that fun.
We got settled in as summer came along and I got back into my

usual daily routines of checking traps, feeding animals, and just
shooting anything in the woods. On weekends, especially Saturday
mornings, I’d go through the creek, crawdad-gigging.
“Crawdaddin” was fun to me because I did it for me and May’s

breakfast. I had a broom stick with three nails embedded into one
end of it, sharpened really good that I used for the gigger. I had a net
bag I used to put out the crawdads in, hanging from my side. I’d wade
into the creek with bare feet, shorts, and a T-shirt and head upstream
moving rocks and brush to get the crawdads to scurry out from their
hiding places. I’d even fish, too. Whatever moved I poked and bagged.
I’d usually catch 30-40 crawdads and then I’d call it quits and
go home. May and I would clean ‘em, fry ‘em, and chow down. On this
particular morning, I decided to go a little longer and get enough to
feed Ben and Mom, too. I went up the creek and gigging away. It was
a good gigging day for it too; lots of crawdads everywhere.
I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings, just looking

down at the creek searching for movement, when I noticed it got a bit
darker. I looked up and seen that I was going through some
overgrown brush all around the creek. I began to push the
overhanging brush aside when a huge limb of flowery-type stuff
swung and hit me in the face. As I brushed it aside the smell hit me. It
was marijuana. I had stepped into a tunnel of marijuana, growing tall,
on both sides of the creek. I didn’t smoke it yet, but I had seen it
before, and I knew what it was. Mom’s biker buddies smoked it all the
time and I knew it was worth money, so you didn’t have to tell me
what to do. I quit crawdaddin’ and began pulling at huge stalks that
had long, arm length buds hanging off it. I tugged and pulled and dug
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around the roots until it fell over like a fallen tree. I could’ve yelled
“TIMBER” if I’d thought about it, but I was too stunned by my find. I
laid that tree aside and began pulling at another. I had it loose and
falling over when I heard someone yell at me from up the hill.
There was an old man who lived in a house up on the hill

standing next to some bushes. He had the longest gun I’d ever seen,
pointing right at me. We were a good distance from each other, so I
didn’t think he could shoot me. He was way up on the hill, and I was
at the bottom, surrounded by these huge pot plants. I figured my
chances of getting away with the two “trees” I had, were good, so I
eased the plants off the ground, one root in each hand, trailing behind
me, and I started casually walking downstream. The old man yelled,
“Hey, boy! Put down my plants or I’ll shoot ya!” I kept walking and
watching him, trying to get further away before he shot at me. He told
me once again to drop the plants, but I didn’t. I took off running. Next
thing I know I heard a loud “BOOM” and I hit the dirt. I dove down
just because the gunshot scared the crap out of me. You could hear
the buckshot scatter in the trees all around me. I got up, kept a hold
of the roots, and took off running. He fired at me once again, but I was
too busy trying to dodge limbs with my face and shoulders to notice
it. I was scared, excited and full of adrenaline to notice anything other
than getting those plants home and show them to Ben. I ran on.
When I got to the part of the creek behind our house, I ran
uphill and came through the front door with the plants trailing
behind me. I knew I lost a bunch of buds through the trees, branches,
and briars but I didn’t care. There was plenty left to deal with.
I ran through the living room and up some stairs that led to the
attic, which was my room during the warm months. There was a
small window-shaped door that opened up onto a tin-roofed porch. I
pulled the plants out onto the roof to let the heat that was coming off
the tin dry the plants. I saw Ben do it before.
Mom called my name and told me to come downstairs. I went

down and she told me I was trailing blood through the house. I
figured it was because I used my head and face to block branches and
briars out of my way as I ran. I was skinned up pretty good, but it was
my leg and arm that had lots of blood flowing from them. Mom took a
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rag and began to wipe me clean when she noticed small puncture
holes in my right calf and right elbow. She said, “Who shot you boy?”
and I said, “What did you say?” She asked me again and I realized I
was hit by that old man’s buck shot. Never having been shot before,
and being only eight years old, I fell to the floor and began crying like
a little girl. I just knew I was going to die. Mom told me to shut up and
quit crying; I wasn’t going to die any time soon, so I settled down a
bit.
We heard a truck pull up on the top of the hill, and Mom looked
out the window and saw the old man get out with his gun. Mom got
the double-barreled shot gun at the door and met him before he came
down the hill. She had both barrels loaded and aiming at his belly. He
stopped midstride and told her he wanted them plants I stole. Mom
told him if he didn’t leave she’d blow his guts all over the yard. She
told him he shot me, and she should shoot his sorry ass. I watched it
all from the living room window, hoping Mom would shoot his ass.
But she didn’t shoot his old, sorry ass. The old man backed off and got
in his truck and left. I watched it all from the living room window, still
hoping Mom would shoot his old ass. But she didn’t.
She took me to the neighbors to have them take me to the

hospital so I could be patched up and bullet free. Ben was at work,
somewhere, so he was no help.
The doc took out one pellet from my elbow and two from my
right calf. I watched the whole process, fascinated. I got stitches in
both areas and was told to stay off my leg for two weeks. HA! I was
running in the woods the very next day.
I went right back to the spot where I found his plants, but I
took a longer route and came sneaking through the bushes. The old
man must have figured I’d be back because he pulled all the plants up.
There were holes everywhere, little bits of buds and pot leaves, but
no plants. I scavenged up what I could and got away from there.
The two plants I dried out got Ben a bunch of smoke and some
to sell, so I did good. We bought some food and other stuff, so all was
well. Mom took my stitches out herself. She said she wasn’t wasting
no trip to the hospital just for that.
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After that, Mom and Ben parted ways and we ended up back at
grandpa’s house.
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T. L. Henry
Chapter 6
I fell back into my routines at Grandpa’s place helping him in

the yard and the garden, going fishing’ all the time, and Saturday
morning wrestling. Fun times..
On one particular morning, I got a very crazy surprise. Mom

had been away for a few days, out doing whatever, when she showed
up out of the blue with a new man. Mom walked into Grandpa’s house
followed by a guy I had seen almost every Saturday morning—a
professional wrestler named Black Heart. Grandpa and I were
stunned. Grandpa stood up, towering over Black Heart by a few
inches, but Charles was muscular where Grandpa was just huge. They
shook hands and Mom introduced him to me. I was in awe. I saw this
guy get into fist fights on TV all the time. No one liked him. I didn’t
either, but you couldn’t tell me I didn’t like him right then. He was
God in my Lil’ world at that moment.
He told Grandpa he’d like for me, May, and Mom to come live
with him in Statesville, North Carolina. He had a house on the
Catawba River and was a forklift driver during the week. He wrestled
on weekends and special occasions and would love to take me with
him sometimes. I lit up with smiles and raced to pack my bags. We
said our good-byes to Grandpa and Grandma and loaded up Charles’
yellow Barracuda and left for Statesville. It was only a twenty-five-
minute trip, but to me it was another adventure.
I had no idea what to expect, except for what Charles told us.
But I was almost disappointed at seeing his “house.” It was nothing
more than a big shack next to a river. The place was in ruin with
patched walls and a patched tin roof. All sorts of yard brush was here
and there with cottontails and reeds growing everywhere. I was
excited about seeing the river. I was ready to roam.
When we got inside the house it was just a large room with
blankets separating “rooms.” Homemade lines ran across the ceiling
all over the place and blankets were hanging everywhere. He showed
me and May where we’d sleep, and which areas were “off limits” to
us. In one corner was a table with a bullet press and lots of rounds of
ammunition. “Off limits,” he said. He said he made ammo as a “side
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project” and he’d beat our asses if we messed with his “workstation.”
I didn’t want anything to do with it anyway. Next, was his weight
bench and workout area. It took up about a third of the house, next to
the makeshift kitchen. He had a lot of weights and dumbbells
everywhere. “Off limits,” he said again. Once again, I didn’t want
anything to do with it. I wanted outside!
When he let me go out, he warned me about the water

moccasins and various snakes roaming around. Being next to the
river I figured there’d be some, but I had no idea of just how many.
My very first outing I saw a huge snake near the bank. I had May with
me, so I didn’t try and chase it. I wasn’t afraid of snakes, but I wasn’t
stupid either.
We walked all over the place to get a feel for the area. I figured
I’d enjoy this life while it lasted. With Mom, ya just never knew what
tomorrow would bring. I settled into this river life okay. I had to go to
school, so I was riding a bus again. May wasn’t ready for first grade
yet, so she stayed home. I don’t remember the school much. It wasn’t
worth remembering, I guess.
A neighbor kid, Freddy, showed me all over the river; where

the good fishing holes were, places to set traps and fishing lines, and
cool places to just sit around and watch nature. I learned how to fish
for pike and how to act around snakes. Moccasins will chase you if
you run, but mostly they’ll leave you alone. Copperheads will come at
you if you’re not careful.
Charles was a forklift driver for Statesville Loading Company,

not too far from where we lived. He’d go off and wrestle on the
weekends. I believe he was doing a lot of other stuff too, but he told
Mom he was just wrestling. He wouldn’t take me with him most of the
time, but the few times he did, I had a blast. I got to meet the greats,
“Andre the Giant”, “Rick Flair”, “The Boogie Woodie Man”, “Jimmy
Valiant”, “The Anderson Brothers”, “Tony Strong”, Greg “The
Hammer” Valentine, and many more. I was just one of many kids who
got to meet them, but I felt special because the man I went with got to
get in the ring with them.
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Charles was what’s known as a “Heel.” He was paid to get in the

ring and put on a show of being the bad guy, get beat up and lose.
That was his game. He was 6’5” and 300 pounds of muscle, and really
mean. He wore solid black everything; boots, pants, t-shirt, cowboy
hat, hair, and his trademark handle-bar mustache. He’d put in a big
chaw of tobacco, Redman, in his mouth before he got into the ring,
and he carried an urn with him. It was his spittoon. It was all beat to
hell from many fights, but it was also part of his act. He’d get into the
ring and place it in his corner. He’d turn and spit in it as he walked
around looking menacing until the star came out to wrestle. When
the star got into the ring, Charles would always try and attack them
first. When the rehearsed fight got going and things got heated, he
was supposed to spit tobacco juice at the star, trying to hit him in the
face. Normally, as scripted, he would miss the star and spray it into
the audience, invoking the audience into cheering on the star into
kicking Charles’, Black Heart’s ass. Sometimes Charles would get
really mad and really spit into the star’s face. Holy hell would erupt
then, and blood, real blood, would flow, usually Charles’. He could
fight like a maniac, but he got tired too easily. He’d lose his fight and
have to be helped out of the ring. Sometimes they’d laugh it off and go
to a local bar and drink together, but a few times I’d have to wait by
the car and watch him fight for real, in the parking lot. Some fights he
won, some he didn’t. It was always exciting for me to just be there
and see what was going to happen next.
Charles ended up getting hurt in a forklift accident and was laid

up for a while. He came into a piece of money for the accident, so he
moved us closer to the Statesville Civic Center where he wrestled a
lot.
Our new home was nice with two bedrooms, a basement, and a
small back yard. Charles put his weights into the second bedroom
and made me and May sleep in the dining room. To me, that was
unfair, but who was I to complain?
There was a park one block from our house, so I had

somewhere to go and play. I met all the neighborhood kids and was a
sort of star due to Charles’ status. It wasn’t too bad for me at this
time. Mom was still drinking and so was Charles, but the beatings
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slowed down a lot. She’d only beat on us while she was drunk. Sober,
she’d deny she ever laid a hand on us. Crazy Bitch!
Charles had a workout buddy and a fellow wrestler who lived

close by. He’d come over and workout, drink, and just hang out. He’d
come over, sometimes, with a girlfriend or his sister. Oh yeah, his
workout buddy was black. A huge black guy who used to be a world-
renowned body builder; his name was Tony Strong.
When they drank, May and I would have to stay out of the
living room, so we’d have to stay in our “bedroom” and do nothing
but listen to them. I hated it when they drank. We became their slaves
and were constantly told to, “go get me a beer”, or “get me a clean
glass”, or “get this mess cleaned up.” Being around Mom was bad
enough but adding 2-3 more people telling me to do this crap for
them really pissed me off. But what could I do? NADA damn thing!
One day, while Charles was away, I snuck into the room with all
the weights in it. I just wanted to touch them and maybe play around
with a dumbbell or something. I was bored. Mom was passed out on
the sofa in the living room, so I had some time to roam if I was
careful.
Once in the room, I had May stand at the door and keep an eye
on Mom for me. I picked up a few weights, some dumbbells, and some
various plates, but what really fascinated me was the bench press.
There were all sorts of weights on the bar, and I had this feeling that I
could lift at least the one side of it. I got on the right side of the bar
sitting on the rack and gave it a little lift. It moved a bit, so I knew I
could lift it. I tried to lift it higher, and it lifted higher. I was feeling
strong, so I lifted it up even higher, and that’s when all hell broke
loose. The bar started sliding toward the left side, faster than I could
stop it, or put it down, and it crashed right into the wood floor,
straight threw to the basement. It made the loudest racket you ever
heard, clashing, and clanging all over the concrete floor. I ran around
the bench and looked in the hole at the mess I caused, and just sat
down and cried like a baby. Mom was coming and I was gonna die.
She stomped into the bedroom and saw the hole in the floor and
grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the dining/bedroom.
She smacked me around a bit and then shoved me into a corner
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telling me to stay there until Charles came home. She said she hoped
he’d kill me. (Her exact words) I was a mess. I remember thinking of
ways to escape the house and run away, but I knew it was hopeless. I
just sat in that corner and cried myself to sleep.
Sometime in the early morning, I was awakened by being

grabbed up by my right arm. I ended up dangling in mid-air. He hit
me with a weight belt he wore while working out, solid leather, and
very thick. He hit me so many times I lost consciousness. When I
awoke, he was standing over me yelling that I was going to pay for
ruining his weights and I would never, ever go to another wrestling
match again. All I could do was curl up and cry. I was made to lay
there, in my own urine, until the next day. They kept me home from
school for a week, due to my bruises and injuries. I was in pain and
hating life.
Things weren’t the same after that. Mom and Charles had
arguments all the time and a couple of times they even fought each
other with fists. Mom was a big woman, and she knew how to take a
punch, but she could give one, too. They’d both have black and blue
eyes for days after a bout with each other.
One weekend, we went to Hickory to visit Grandpa. Charles

stayed home because he had a match that weekend. I was glad he
didn’t come because I hated him after him beating my ass. I got to see
Grandpa and Grandma, so I was happy.
For some reason, we only stayed for a day, instead of two days.
I think Mom and Grandpa got into some words, and she wanted to
come back home. Grandpa drove us back on Saturday evening. When
we got home, Charles’ car was in the driveway, so I knew he was
home. As we entered the house, Grandpa left. Mom stepped inside,
first, and then I followed with May. We heard noises coming from the
right side of the living room entrance: Mom and Charles’ room. Mom
opened the door and there was Charles, butt-ass naked, having sex
with Tony Strong’s sister. A black girl! The noises Mom made scared
me to death. She hollered, choked, screamed, yelled, and bellowed, all
in one breath. She grabbed a huge mirror that was part of the dresser
and lifted it up and slammed it down onto Charles’s back. The mirror
smashed all over Charles and the girl. Everybody was screaming after
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that. So were May and me. I saw mirrored glass all over the bed,
Charles and the girl rolling around on it, trying to get away from it,
and Mom, she was throwing all sorts of stuff at Charles from off the
dresser. He did his best to dodge most of it, but he got hit by some of
it. Mom turned on her heels and grabbed me and May and we left the
house.
We ended up at a friend of Mom’s and stayed there for a few

days. Mom had gone back to Charles’ house and got our stuff a day or
two later. I don’t know what went on there, but we weren’t going
back, that’s for sure.
Mom stayed good and drunk for a few days. These people we
were staying with told her she either had to go back to Hickory or
find another place to stay because Mom would just haul ass and leave
me and May with them and not come home for a day or two. These
people were nice to us, but I could tell they weren’t happy about
having to take care of us.
One day, Mom came and got May and me and took us to the bar
with her. The bar was a small one with one pool table and a juke box,
not too many people inside. It was up on a hill next to a small bridge
that ran across some train tracks. I was used to going in and out of
bars with Mom, and I always had to keep an eye on May. I’d beg up on
a quarter to play a game of pool to give me something to do. Mom
would look around the bar for lonely prospects to buy her a drink.
She hardly ever bought her own booze. She met some man, and, after
a conversation, they went out the back door. I kept playing pool, not
worrying, or wondering about what Mom was up to. That wasn’t the
first time she’d gone out the back doors of bars with men.
After a few minutes, Mom came rushing back inside and got me
and May. We left and she had us walking really fast to get away from
the bar. We got back to the place we were staying, and I overheard
Mom tell the couple we were staying with that she needed to get back
to Hickory as soon as possible. I had no idea why, but I was happy to
be going back to Grandpa’s and Grandma’s house again.
The next day, Grandpa came and got us. I felt elated to be going
back to an environment I felt comfortable in.
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Later on, after we got settled in at my grandparent’s house, I

overheard Mom tell her younger brother, Rob, that she got into a
fight with a guy when he propositioned her for sex. She said she had
knocked him out and stole his wallet; that’s why we had to leave in a
hurry. She told Rob that she pushed his unconscious body down a
hill, and he rolled next to the train tracks. She got me and May and
left. The next day it was on the news that the guy was hit and killed
by a train. I knew then that it was Mom’s reasoning for leaving
Statesville so fast. She inadvertently killed the dude. Well, that was
my thinking anyway.
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Chapter 7
We resettled at Grandpa’s house again and I got back into my

usual routines. There were additions to Grandpa and Grandma’s
house while we lived in Statesville. My Aunt Nikki was just like my
mom, but more rebellious and freer. She had two boys named Dan
and Lee. Dan was three years younger than me, and Lee was five
years younger. Dan and May were the same age. I was almost nine at
the time.
Dan and Lee’s mom came to my grandparent’s one day and just
left them. She told Grandpa and Grandma she couldn’t take care of
them anymore and didn’t have time for it anyway. She just wanted to
party, and kids got in the way; besides, the man she was with didn’t
want kids in his house. So, she hauled ass on the back of a motorcycle
and left Dan and Lee with our grandparents.
In a three-bedroom house there was Grandma and Grandpa,

Mom, and her brother Rob, my Uncle Jimmy (a truck driver who was
gone most of the time), me and May, and Dan and Lee. The back
bedroom was pretty big, so it had three beds set up in it, one for me
and Dan, and one for Lee and May, and one for Mom. My uncles
shared the bedroom at the front of the house and my grandparents
had the bedroom next to the bathroom. It got cramped, but it was
great to me. I didn’t get beat up by Mom when I lived there. I still got
spankings because I would do some dumb things, but I never got
beatings like the ones only Mom could dish out.
One weekend, Grandpa told me we would go camping and

fishing, just him and me. I was so elated that when Friday came
around and I went to school, I couldn’t wait for that day to end.
Grandpa said he’d have the car packed up and he’d be waiting for me
to come home from school. During the day, my teacher kept giving us
all sorts of homework to do over the weekend. I was getting
frustrated and was thinking of a way to get out of it. As the day
progressed, I came up with a scheme of hiding my schoolbooks next
to the classroom door of one of the outside classes.
My school, Kenworth Elementary, was made up of three

buildings: a three-story building with grades four through six, a
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smaller, one-level building behind the main building with grades one
through three, and to the right of the one level building is a gym. I
was in the fourth grade at the time. May and Dan were in the first
grade. I had to come to the smaller building to pick up May and Dan
after school every day. I got the bright idea of leaving my schoolbooks
outside, under the walkway awning, next to a classroom. I figured
someone, maybe a teacher, would see the stack of books and take
them inside or to the principal’s office until Monday. I was going to
claim that I sat them down and someone stole them. Ha, bright
thinking, right?
I got my sister and cousin, and we raced four blocks to

Grandpa’s house. Sure enough, Grandpa was waiting for me, so I
jumped in his car, and we left for Lake Hickory.
We had fun camping out and fishing. It rained most of Saturday,

but I didn’t care. I was hanging with my best friend. We caught a lot of
fish together and headed home on Sunday evening. We spent a couple
hours cleaning the fish so Grandma could freeze them for future use.
After a good shower, it was time for bed.
The next day I left for school hoping I’d find out my books were
saved. They weren’t under the awning where I left them, so I knew
someone got them. I went on to class and thought I’d be okay. I
wasn’t.
As soon as I stepped into class the teacher told me to go to the

principal’s office. I said, “Okay,” and went happily. I figured that’s
where my books were waiting on me and I had my story ready—that
I sat them down while awaiting my sister and cousin to come out of
class, and someone picked them up and took them. When I walked in
the principal’s office, there were my books, but not in the shape I left
them. They were all swollen and water-logged, destroyed beyond any
repair. When I laid eyes on those books, I knew I was in trouble. The
principal asked me why I left these books outside and I denied that I
did. I told him my story about someone taking them, and he refused
to believe me. He had me sit on a chair and told me he already called
my mom, and she was on her way to the school. Man, I knew I was in
trouble. I knew my ass was in for a terrible beating.
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After a while Mom stormed into the office, looked at the books,
turned to me and slapped the fire out of my face. I was crying as soon
as I saw her big ass step into the office, so it was nothing for me to
turn on the tears. Besides, that slap nearly knocked me out of the
chair.
The principal tried telling Mom that someone had to pay for the
damaged books. Mom said she wasn’t paying for them, and she
dragged me out of that chair and out of the school. All the way home
she told me Grandpa was gonna kick my ass when she told him about
my destroying the books. That hurt worse than her slapping me or
pulling me by the hair.
When we got home, Mom got the belt and beat the living crap
out of me. My grandma had to stop her because Mom got carried
away and would keep on beating me until she felt she’d had enough,
not me. I had to stay in bed until Grandpa came home. When he did,
he asked me what happened with my books, and I told him the truth:
that I left them there hoping someone would find them and turn them
in because I had too much homework, and I had wanted to go
camping with him. He didn’t care and whooped my ass, too. I was one
sore kid the next day.
I was made to go to school the next day and tell the principal
what I did. Mom told him that she gave him permission to dole out
whatever punishment he saw fit, but she couldn’t afford to pay for
the books. She left me in his office and went home. The principal told
me he was going to give me five licks with “Big Red”, the long paddle
hanging on the wall behind his desk. I started to cry, then made
myself quit. I think right then is when I became rebellious.
He made me bend over and grab my already sore ass and hit
me five times with that paddle. It had holes drilled in it to give it some
swing power, and it stung like a bitch, but I refused to cry for him. I
won’t lie, I was on the verge, but I didn’t. I held it in and let my hatred
of him and my mom see me through. I didn’t think to hate myself for
being so stupid and careless with my books; I just knew from then on
it was me against everyone else. I still loved Grandpa because I knew
he was a very strict man and I respected him. He forgave me, too, and
we were back to being buddies again in no time. I just knew any
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dumb thing I did; I’d disappoint him, and I didn’t ever want to
disappoint him. He was my best friend, my grandpa.
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Chapter 8
The worst day of my life was yet to come. One day, after school,
my Uncle Rob came to pick us up. To me, that was strange because
we always walked home. It was only four blocks behind the school, so
I knew something wasn’t right. Uncle Rob was crying, and I asked him
what was wrong. He said someone had died. I thought immediately of
Grandma, because she always complained of health problems, but he
said, “No, it was Grandpa.” It’s a good thing I was in a moving car at
the time, because I collapsed onto the floorboard in the hardest
feeling of despair and anguish anyone could have imagined. “No, not
Grandpa”, I kept screaming. He had to stop the car to come hold me
because I was so distraught. “Not Grandpa! Please God, not my
grandpa!” I kept pleading! For some reason, we weren’t heading to
Grandpa’s house, but to somewhere else. I asked Uncle Rob to take
me home, and he said he would in a little while. I wasn’t hearing any
of that. As soon as he got back into the driver’s seat, I bolted out the
door and ran all the way home.
When I got home everyone was crying, so I knew it was true.

Grandma was sitting on Grandpa’s favorite chair, bawling her eyes
out; Mom was kneeling next to her. I sat on the sofa and just cried
along with them. My hero, my best friend, my grandpa was gone. In
no time, a lot of people showed up to cry along with everyone else.
Grandpa was the hub of the family. He kept it all in line. Now, what?
My young mind couldn’t even to begin to process what our future
without Grandpa would be like. I was hurting and scared at the same
time.
The next few days were a blur. Mom said that Grandpa came
home with chest pains, then fell onto the living room floor. Mom tried
CPR, but it was no good. Grandpa had a massive heart attack in the
living room; the same floor he and I used to roll around on and
wrestle. I guess the constant stress of having to keep his crazy family
together was too much for him. God bless Grandpa!
Us kids were made to go to school the next day. After my

classes I raced to get May and Dan and get home. Dan tried to outrace
me and ran into the street. He got hit by a car and knocked for a huge
flip right into someone’s front yard. Everything came to a standstill at
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the instant of that happening. Dan was trying to get up off the ground,
but a lady with flour on her hands, came racing out of a house and
made him lie back down. He kept saying he was alright, but she
wouldn’t let him up. The man that hit him was standing next to his
car, trying to get someone to hear his pleas, “He just ran out in front
of me!” Out of the blue, Aunt Nikki came running up and grabbed Dan
off the ground. She pulled him into her arms and led him to a car she
was in. As she passed the guy who hit Dan, she slapped him in the
face and called him a bastard. Aunt Nikki and Dan got into the car she
came in and drove towards Grandpa’s house. She didn’t even offer me
or May a ride.
When we got to Grandpa’s house there were lots of people

there, mostly family. All of my uncles were there: Jake, the eldest, D.J.,
Jimmy, and Rob, the youngest. My Aunt Nikki, and Mom, plus some
cousins, my Uncle Jake’s kids, Kerby and Harry, Uncle D. J.’s daughter,
Angel, plus some neighbors were also there. Grandma was still
devastated, and I felt really bad for her. I saw and felt her pain.
My cousin Dan ended up being alright. He only had a scratch on

his back, and he enjoyed the attention everyone gave him.
I kept away from everyone. I went out into the backyard and
wept for a long time, a good long time.
After a few days, we all went to the funeral. When I saw

Grandpa in his casket, I was stunned. He looked so much smaller
lying there. I asked my Uncle Jimmy if they cut off Grandpa’s legs
because it didn’t look like the casket was long enough to hold him.
Uncle Jimmy said that Grandpa’s legs were still there, and I shouldn’t
worry. Still, I believed there was no way this giant of a man could fit
in this coffin. I cried the whole time.
Later, when we were going to the burial, I was made to ride

with Uncle Jake’s family. He had a station wagon, and I rode in the
very back. My eldest cousin, by one year, “Harry,” was in the back
with me and I just couldn’t stop crying. Harry called me a big baby
and I began to beat his ass. I was punching, tearing, clawing, and
kicking at him. Uncle Jake had to stop the car and race to the back to
pull me off of Harry. Uncle Jake grabbed me by both arms and shook
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me yelling, “Stop it Tommy!” I told him no one loved Grandpa as

much as I did. Uncle Jake hugged me and said he loved Grandpa too. I
cried even harder.
We eventually got to the burial site and got through the

services. I stayed away from Harry because I knew I’d hurt him if he
got too close to me. That began a long-term animosity between him
and me. Looking back on it, I know that was the moment it began.
After the burial, we all got back to Grandpa’s house and the
adults fixed food for everyone. Us kids were made to go outside and
play. Uncle Jake made Harry apologize to me and I apologized for
beating him up. When we went outside Harry still teased me by
calling me a “big baby” again. I ignored him. He suggested we play,
“King of the Hill,” since Grandpa’s yard sat on an inclined road and his
yard had a very steep hill to it. I agreed and pushed him down the hill.
He got mad and kept trying to climb the hill, but I kept blocking him
and pushing back him down. He got so mad that he called me a
“welfare cry baby,” and said he was glad I was poor, and he wasn’t. I
dove down the hill and tackled him. Once again, I beat his ass. He
went to screaming like a little girl until Uncle Jimmy pulled me off of
him. They asked me what happened, and I refused to tell them, telling
them to ask Harry. He said that he didn’t say anything, that I just
started hitting him. Uncle Jake knew he was lying, but they made us
separate and leave each other alone. I hung with Lee, Dan, and May.
Even Kerby seemed to not like his own brother. I learned later in life
that Harry was just a mama’s boy and spoiled rotten. I was glad when
they left. My life was forever changed after Grandpa died. Just keep
reading…..
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Chapter 9
After some time, Mom met a guy named Brian. Brian had a job,
a brown Chevy Nova, and a good heart. He was a nice guy to May and
me, and I don’t know what he saw in Mom. She was abusive, both
verbally and physically, and way bigger than him. My mom was six-
foot-tall, weighing at least two hundred pounds. Her biker nicknames
were “Amazon” and “Wildcat”. She fought grown men regularly at
biker bars, so I figured any man that got with her had to be big and
strong. Not Brian! He was about five-foot-six inches and about one-
hundred sixty pounds with curly brown hair and freckles all over. He
was nothing like what Mom had ever brought home.
Anyway, Mom came to Grandma’s house and said we were

moving in with Brian.
Grandma was working on buying a house with my Uncle Jake’s

help, so we needed to move anyway. Uncle Jake was pushing us out
every chance he got. He was very protective of Grandma, and I don’t
blame him. Not then, anyway.
We packed up and moved into a shabby little apartment with

Brian. It was okay, but not anything special. Brian worked at a
synthetics company on a 3-11 p.m. shift during weekdays. On his
days off, he liked to take us to the movies and out to eat. He was
always doting on May and me, and I could tell Mom didn’t like it that
we got more attention than she did, especially when she got drunk.
Mom got really needy and demanding the drunker she got. May
and I would become her slaves, and it was always, “get me a beer”,
“cook me something to eat”, “clean up this mess”, and on and on it
went. She’d snapped on Brian if he offered to do anything that she
told us do, saying it was our job to serve her since she gave birth to
us; like it was something special she did for us.
I usually did everything she’d ask because it was easier to do

the task than to take the beating. I wasn’t yet immune to being beaten
by her. That was in years to come. Her beatings would get violent if
Brian wasn’t around. She was prone to using her fists, or whatever
was near at hand at the time. I’ve been hit with fists, belts, belt
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buckles, drop cords, sticks, switches, you name it. When she whooped
my ass, she’d bring the whole house into it. Brian though, would stop
her and give me or May some phony, “grounding,” or “punishment”.
He’d give us money each week for the chores we did, so he’d threaten
us by taking it away from us if we didn’t behave. He never didn’t give
us our allowance; he was always on our side.
One day, when Mom was drinking really heavy, Brian was
paying more attention to us than to her. Mom figured if she faked
some sort of ailment that she’d get his attention back. She always
wanted center stage when she was drunk. So, what does she do? She
pulled a “Fred Sanford”. She faked a heart attack.
Mom grabbed her chest and went to moaning, saying her chest
hurt. We looked at her and then looked away. We were playing
monopoly. Mom began to moan louder and louder until Brian asked
her what was wrong. She moaned, “My heart,” and slid off the sofa
onto the floor, like she was unconscious. Brian freaked out! Me? I saw
right through her bull and could tell she was faking it. I was well
aware of Mom and her antics, but this was new. I wanted to see
where this would go, so I went with it. Brian kept asking her to
breathe because she was holding her breath and then she’d gasp for
air (so funny). I told Brian we needed to get her to the hospital
quickly, and he agreed. I said that just to see if she’d come out of her
charade, but she didn’t. She was wanting, and loving, the attention
she was now getting. Brian, May, and I helped get Mom up off the
ground and we practically dragged her big ass to the car. We put her
in the front passenger seat, and May and I got into the back. I sat
behind Brian. Mom was in full moaning mode, and I was doing all I
could not to laugh at her. May knew she was faking, too, but she kept
quiet also. We wanted to go to the hospital and hang out. And if we
were lucky Mom would be having a real heart attack and we’d be
without her for a while. I know….it sounds terrible, but it was what it
was.
The roads in my hometown, Hickory, North Carolina, are a bit

like a roller coaster ride. Especially if you’re speeding and running
red lights like Brian was doing. The roads are up and down sloped all
through town. As we were speeding along, Brian was yelling for me
to keep an eye out on the cross streets, so we wouldn’t hit anybody as
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we sped through stop lights and stop signs. I gladly complied. The
only problem was when we came up to a stop light and I didn’t see
the huge Cadillac Brougham coming from our left side, due to a
building blocking my view. I yelled, “Go, Go, Go,” in his ear and we
raced through the red light, only to get slammed broadside by this big
boat of a car. It smashed in the driver’s side and slung me to the
passenger side floorboard on top of May. Brian’s head smashed into
the steering wheel, breaking his nose, and splitting his right eyebrow.
Mom got shook up, too. When the car got settled to its resting place,
up against a telephone pole, Mom came to life and snapped on Brian.
She went to punching and screaming, “You son of a bitch! Are you
trying to kill me?” Brian climbed out of the driver’s side window to
get away from her. She looked at me and May and then got out of the
car and sat on the curb. No more “heart attack?” Not yet anyway.
The black couple in the Cadillac got May and me out of the car
and checked on Brian who was sitting on the opposite side of the
street from Mom, holding his t-shirt to his wounds. Mom, seeing us
having all the attention, once again, went back to faking a heart
attack. She clutched her chest and lay back on the sidewalk moaning.
The black couple didn’t know what to do.
When the ambulance arrived one of the paramedics knew Mom

instantly. It was Aunt Nikki’s former husband, Dan, and Lee’s father.
Apparently, he knew how Mom was and didn’t take it too

seriously that she was having a “heart attack”, but he did what he was
supposed to do. They got Brian and us into the ambulance with Mom
on the stretcher. Off we went to the hospital.
May and I waited in the waiting room after we were checked

out and listed in “good condition, just shook up.” Later on, Brian came
out with stitches above his eye and a red nose. He said Mom would be
staying for seventy-two hours in the hospital’s detox unit. Mom was
drunk, not having a heart attack. Ha! I could’ve told them that, but no
one asked me!
So, off we went with Brian. We took a cab home and chilled out
for the rest of the night.
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The next day, we went back to the hospital to see Mom. She
was in full hospital mode, too, looking sick, but just really hung over.
May and I went to the waiting room to let Mom and Brian be alone,
but sitting there, doing nothing, wasn’t my cup of tea. I wanted to
roam. I left May and took off down the hallway.
I’d go by rooms and look inside to see who was in bed or not. I
saw one old man asleep, so I snuck into his room to have a look
around. He had a watch on his bed stand next to the bed. I crept over
and took it. I eased the bed stand drawer open and there was a
wallet. I took that, too. I crept towards the door and got out of there. I
went to the nearest hallway restroom and got into a stall to see what
the old man had in his wallet. Jackpot! About two-hundred dollars! I
stuffed the money in my pocket and threw the wallet in the trash. I
put the watch on my wrist and went to get May. Time to go to the
cafeteria and eat.
Later on, Brian found us at the cafeteria eating junk food. He

asked where we got the money and I told him I found it in a wallet.
He asked about the watch, and I told him I found it, too. He just
looked at me with a look that said, “you’re lying!” I took off the watch
and gave it to him. I told him he could have it and the money. Maybe
it’ll help fix his car. He looked at the watch and the money and started
crying. I didn’t know what to do. He said we were good kids, and he
couldn’t leave us. He got us into a cab and took us home. He wore the
watch, but gave me the money back, telling me to use it sparingly and
not let Mom know I had it…to spend it on myself and May. We hung
out for two more days until Mom came home, and we were once
again her slaves. She acted like she was in the hospital for a heart
attack instead of being locked up in the detox ward. We knew the
truth and let her live her lie.
As time passed, Brian got his car back, good as new. He even
announced that we were moving into a house of our own, right across
the street from Grandma’s house. Wow! I don’t know how Mom kept
him happy, other than the normal way, but I was glad he was with us.
We moved into the house a few days after he told us about it. I
had to share a bedroom with May, but it was no big deal. I was used
to that. I did like that it was across the street from Grandma’s house,
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but it made me miss Grandpa even more. I got to play with Dan and
Lee a lot, too, so it wasn’t too bad.
Living in this house felt like a new life for me. The house was
clean, spacious, and just plain nice. Brian kept Mom off our asses, so it
was mellow for a while.
Grandma went to Hawaii to visit her family, so Mom babysat

Dan and Lee. That way we could go to school together.
My grandpa and grandma met each other in Hawaii when

Grandpa was in the Army. When Pearl Harbor was attacked, he was
injured, and she was some sort of volunteer nurse; more like a candy
striper in a hospital—just a helper. Her family was Portuguese and
came to the islands when she was a Lil’ girl. The Perriera family
turned some hot springs into a sort of laundry mat and dry cleaners
for the locals. Grandpa fell in love with Grandma, and they were
married and had six kids: four boys and two girls. They stayed in
Hawaii for sixteen years until Grandpa’s dad had a heart attack and
died. His mom needed help running the dairy farm in Columbia,
South Carolina, so he packed up his family and moved back to the
mainland. Somehow, and for some reason, he ended up in Hickory,
North Carolina, as a truck driver. He drank a lot, I’m told, and used to
beat his kids, too. I never witnessed any of that except for the times
he slapped Mom unconscious. Grandma was a short, beautiful
woman; about five-foot-three inches, with flowing black hair. She was
a sight to see next to Grandpa at six-foot-seven. But she was feisty,
too, and had no problem whooping you with her hands. She worked
part time at a dry cleaner that she was part owner of. It gave her
something to do and made her feel useful. She enjoyed having
someone around her to look after, even if she complained about it at
the time. The trip to Hawaii was a good respite for her.
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Chapter 10
Hatred was something I learned from my mom. She was always

in a hateful mood and had no problem showing it. Very rarely did she
seem to be happy unless she was drinking with people around her.
Then she’d put on a show. She’d be some hula dancer one minute, and
a love-song singer the next. She had many faces for all occasions, but
deep down she resented having been tied down with kids. I believe
the only reason she kept us around was for that nonstop check and
food stamps she got from the welfare. She made sure that any man
she was with wasn’t around when the welfare people did their
monthly check on us. She especially made sure May and I told them
we were in good health and loved our mom. She wasn’t willing to lose
that free money each month. That was her drinking money if there
wasn’t any man. Life moved onward for me in our new home.
My birthday came along, and I was given a brand-new

skateboard from Brian. The house we lived in was just like Grandpa’s
built on a sloping road, so I had plenty of street to ride on, but I also
liked to ride it up and down the hallway in our house. I wasn’t good at
riding it yet, so I’d use the hall walls as a balance to keep upright until
I got used to it without the walls. At the end of the hallway, leading to
the living room, was Mom’s China cabinet. She warned me various
times not to run into it and destroy anything, or “it’d be my ass,” if
something got broke. Well, one day I lost my balance at the end of the
hall, and I guess you know what came next. A whole lot of crashing
noises, lil’ figurines and China plates were being demolished by my
accidental bump into the cabinet. Mom, sitting right there in her lazy
chair, saw the whole thing. That woman got up fast and came at me
like a beastly locomotive, blowing fire instead of smoke. She grabbed
the skateboard and beat me senseless with it. This wasn’t a wooden
skateboard like they have now. It was the solid, hard plastic kind with
wide flared wheels; heavy, too. I don’t mind telling you that I hurt all
over after that pummeling with the skateboard. She marched to the
living room door and threw it into the road, next to the trash pile. She
told me if she ever saw it again, she’d beat me to death with it. It sat
on the trash pile until one day it was gone. Brian was pissed at me,
and angrier with her because I was in some serious pain for days to
come.
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Beatings from her would escalate in years to come. Still, getting

beat with a skateboard wasn’t nice. My hatred began to boil towards
her, and I used to wish her death each and every day. I figured if she
would die, we’d go live with someone nicer. I asked God to give her a
heart attack, but a real one didn’t happen! So, I got into other things
to take my mind away from her.
I met a guy sitting on his front porch not too far away from my
home. He asked me if I ever smoked pot before. I said no, but that I
had seen it before. He told me to come see him later on if I could get
away from the house and I said alright.
One good thing about being in this neighborhood was I knew

the area well and Mom let me roam. She could stand on our back
porch and holler out my name and I could hear her loudmouth for
blocks it seemed. When I got home and completed whatever tasks
Mom had for me, I asked her if I could go up the street and play with a
new kid I had met. She said, “Go ahead, but be back by dark.”
I went up to the kid’s house and he was on his front porch. He

took off with me down the street and introduced me to marijuana. He
fired up a joint and passed it to me. I took a couple of puffs until he
told me I had to breathe it into my lungs. I tried that and got to
coughing like a maniac. After a few more puffs, I was feeling no pain
and the world was a nicer place to live in. We walked and talked
about nothing in particular until we realized it was getting close too
dark, so I headed home. He told me if I could come up with a couple of
dollars he’d sell me a couple of joints. I told him I’d see about it and
would holler at him the next day.
At home, I went straight to my room and laid in my bed

enjoying this awesome feeling of no worries and no pains. I knew I
found my happiness. I just had to get a couple of dollars from Brian to
keep that feeling alive.
The next morning, I got Brian to give me a few dollars telling

him it was for school. He asked no questions, and I was happy. I met
the kid by his house, and he gave me three fat joints for three dollars.
I didn’t smoke any at school because I was too scared to do it around
anybody else. As soon as school was over with I fired one up with the
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kid and we puffed ‘til we got near his house. I put the joint out about
halfway and put it in my pants pocket with the other two joints.
When I got home, Mom was in the kitchen cutting up potatoes

in the kitchen sink. She called for me to help her. She had been
drinking all day so she couldn’t tell I was as high as a kite. After a few
minutes, she told me to go out to the laundry room and take the wet
clothes out of the wringer washer and put them into the dryer. I said
okay and went to it.
The laundry room was a storage room on the back porch. Brian
bought Mom a dryer, so she didn’t have to hang all our clothes on the
line every time she washed. We had the wringer washer from before
she met him. My Uncle Rob had a bunch of boxes and bags stored in
the room because he and his wife were going through a separation, so
the room was crowded with dirty clothes, wet clothes, boxes, and
trash bags.
I squeezed my way into the room and put the clothes through
the wringer, then into the dryer. When the task was completed, I
remembered the half joint in my pocket. There’s a chain that hangs
from the ceiling connected to a small exhaust fan. I turned it on, sat
on a bag of Uncle Rob’s clothes and fired up the half joint. I blew the
smoke right up the vent and watched the smoke leave the room. I got
high really quick. After a couple tokes, Mom opened the back door
and screamed for me to get in the house. I guess by her being drunk,
she forgot I was in the laundry room. I was so high, and got instantly
paranoid, that I stuffed the still lit joint down into some clothes and
began fanning the smoke I blew up towards the fan. When Mom
closed the back door, I snuck out of the laundry room and went out
around the house and came in the front door. Mom called out for me,
again, and I answered her. She told me to come into the kitchen and
finish peeling potatoes. As I was peeling them I was smiling on the
inside. I was high as could be, and she had no idea.
After a few moments, I began to smell smoke. I told Mom her

food was burning in the oven. She checked it and saw it was okay, but
she smelled it, too. We looked outside the kitchen window and saw
smoke pouring from the back of the house. We ran to the back door
and saw the smoke pouring out of the laundry room door. We went
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onto the back porch and Mom opened the door; the flames leaped out
in her face. She slammed the door shut and told me to get the rest of
the kids out of the house. Dan and Lee were in the bathtub, and May
was in the living room. I got them all out in the front yard, as Mom did
her usual, “I want attention” act. She went to screaming and hollering
as the neighbors came out to see what the fuss was about. Mom fell
on the ground and rolled around, crying and boo-hooing. I had the
kids with me in a huddle when the fire department showed up and
began watering down the rear of the house.
Everything inside was damaged in one way or another—

smoked-up, wet, or burnt. It burned a huge hole from the laundry
room into my bedroom, so everything I owned was destroyed. And it
was all my fault. The fire chief said it was, “possibly” electrical wiring
that had done it, but it was that red cherry from that fat joint that I
stuffed into them clothes that did it. I know it was. And I wasn’t about
to tell a soul. Not until now, anyways.
Since we had nowhere to stay, we had to break into Grandma’s

house. Mom called Grandma in Hawaii to tell her what happened and
that we were in her house. She was just happy we were okay and said
she’d be back soon. I kept my head down and my secret to myself.
I smoked pot very sparingly and only when Mom was drinking,
so she couldn’t tell the difference. I think Brian and May knew, but
they never said a word to me about it.
After Grandma came back, we moved into another apartment.

It wasn’t anything spectacular to me, but Mom just loved it. It was
right across the street from a biker bar called, “Fast Company.” Mom
was in alcoholic, biker-whore, heaven. Brian didn’t like it one bit, but
what could he do?
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Chapter 11
This house consisted of a downstairs apartment and an

upstairs one. As usual, we lived in the upstairs one. Why? I have no
idea why it worked out like that; it just did. Stairs led up the side of
the house to our apartment. An old man lived downstairs. He was a
cool old guy and used to give me and May money to carry firewood
and do odd chores for him. He didn’t like the way Mom treated us, but
he never told her to her face. He wasn’t wrong for that. He had a
spare bedroom that he let me smoke pot in, after he caught me
behind the house one day. He kept my secret but didn’t want Mom to
catch me and beat me, so he offered the spare room. It was located
right where the stairs went up to our apartment, so I could climb in
and out the window instead of disturbing the old man. He slept a lot
in his living room by the fireplace. The spare room had a fireplace,
too. I’d sneak in there with a couple of friends from the
neighborhood, and we’d smoke out next to the fireplace and a warm
fire.
After a short stay, Brian got fed up with Mom and left her. He
told me and May he only stayed around because of us, and he
apologized and left. I hated Mom even more. She began to go across
the street more and more, and came home all hours, with all sorts of
people, mostly men. She was whoring herself to continue her
drinking throughout the month after her food stamps and welfare
check disappeared. Many times, she’d have to beg Grandma for food
for us until her food stamps came. Rough times, but the old man
helped out, too. Quietly! He’d call May and me to his apartment and
feed us at least once a day, sometimes more than that. He was a
savior when we needed it.
Mom had all sorts of men in and out of the apartment at all
hours of the night and day. There’s no secret what she was up to. She
was a whore who needed her alcohol anyway she could get it. As a
kid, witnessing it on a regular basis, I kind of grew immune to it. I
even figured out a way to scam a couple dollars for me and May.
When Mom would come home with a guy, and it was daytime, I’d ask
her for some money to go to the store. Mom would turn to whatever
man was there and ask him for a dollar or two to get rid of us for a
while. Usually, they all complied. No one wanted to have kids around,
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or even in the next room, when they were fixin’ to have sex with their
mom. So, we’d get a couple of bucks, and haul ass to the store to get
candy or play the pinball machine.
When Mom would pull an all-nighter with a guy, I’d ease myself
into her bedroom and slither like a snake to where the guy’s pants
would be crumpled on the floor. I’d ease his wallet, or loose cash out
and sneak some bills for myself. I did that for a long time until some
guy knew just how much money he had before he climbed into bed
with Mom. I took a twenty-dollar bill because he had a lot of them. I
didn’t figure he’d count them, but that’s exactly what he did before he
was leaving. He snapped at Mom thinking she robbed him, and she
snapped back. She cussed him and threatened him with a butcher
knife until he left. Then she turned on me.
She said she knew I’d been stealing all along, and ain’t said
nothing because none of the “idiots noticed”, but now that one had,
I’d better stop. She demanded I hand over the twenty or she’d kick
my ass. I gave it up and was grounded from going to play with my
friends for a week. That never stuck, though, because she never knew
or remembered from one day to the next. I was back outside the very
next day.
One day, Mom said May and I could go to the bar with her. We
went inside with her a lot, but when she was “working” she’d make us
stay away. She had a few dollars in her pocket, so I guess it was okay
for us to go in with her. I usually took May directly to the pool tables
in the side room of the bar. It was separated from the bar by a wall
with batwing doors. We got us a pool table and began to play against
each other. May could barely reach the top of the table, so I’d help her
make shots.
While we were on our first game, I heard a commotion in the

bar area. I went to the batwing doors to see what was up and I got
there in time to see a guy hit Mom in the head with a mug full of beer.
I thought, “Oh crap!” Mom shook off the beer and glass and turned to
the dude with rage in her eyes. She grabbed him by the hair with her
left hand and commenced to pound his face with her right. She fell on
top of the guy and kept punching him with her right fist. The guy
looked like he was out of it. The bartender raced around the bar and
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stopped Mom from beating the guy to death. He told Mom to go

outside and wait for an ambulance. Me, May, and Mom went outside
and sat on the curb, waiting. When the ambulance arrived, they
looked at Mom’s head and gave her an icepack for it. They were told
they were needed inside for the guy she beat up.
The cops arrived and had to get statements from all the
witnesses. The bartender said he saw Mom slap the guy, then he hit
her with a beer mug. Mom then began to beat the shit out of the dude,
beating him until he was unconscious. The paramedics brought the
guy out on a stretcher. From what I could see, he was still
unconscious and had a bunch of cuts on his face. The cop got
statements and left. The bartender told Mom she was barred from
ever coming back inside. You can bet she hated that.
With Mom not allowed across the street to “work” or drink, she
became a hateful wreck at home. She’d still go out to the other bars
when she could, but it was so much easier for her to go across the
street. Now she had to go a mile or two to the next bar.
She fell into a routine of being home a couple nights a week, but
then disappearing for a few nights, too. When she did come home, it
was with a bunch of bikers or some solitary dude, and she would
chase us out of the apartment and do her deeds. I didn’t mind the
time away from her. It meant May and I were spared her wrath and
whatever beatings she felt we deserved. We went downstairs to the
old man’s apartment a lot of the time. He enjoyed the company, too.
One weekend, the old man told me to keep an eye on his

apartment because he was going to his sister’s house for the
weekend. I agreed to make sure everything stayed the way he left it
and promised to just use the spare room with my friends when we
hung out.
On Saturday, one of my friends got some pot and I told him to

come to the old man’s place and we’d gather up our other buddies
and smoke out in the spare room. It had gotten cold over the past
week, so I got in the room early and started a fire in the fireplace to
keep us warm. When everyone showed up we began to smoke and
talk shit, sitting on the twin bed and chairs we pulled next to the
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fireplace. After a while, Mom opened our apartment door and yelled
for me to, “get my ass in the house.” That was our cue that the
gathering was over. We waited for her to close the door and I eased
the window open that was leading up the stairs to our apartment.
One by one, my friends climbed out the window and crept down the
stairs for home. Without thinking, because I was stoned, I left the fire
burning in the fireplace and went to see what Mom wanted. I guess I
thought I was coming back later…I don’t know, I was good and
stoned.
I went in our apartment and saw Mom stretched out on the

sofa, slobbering drunk. She slurred to me that I needed to fix me and
my sister some dinner and get ready for bed. I said, “okay” and set
out to do the task.
As I was at the stove boiling water for macaroni and cheese, I

smelled smoke and looked around for what was burning. That’s when
I saw it creeping through the cracks in the floor and baseboards. I
realized, instantly, that the room downstairs was on fire. I ran to
Mom and woke her up telling her that the old man’s apartment was
on fire. She sat up, saw the smoke filling up in our apartment, and
told me to get May outside, “now”! I grabbed May and ran for the
door. Going down the stairs, I saw flames all over the lil’ bed and
chairs in the spare room. I knew I fucked up again, but I wasn’t saying
a word…...AGAIN!
Mom ran down the stairs, drunkenly, and went to the old man’s
front door, banging on it and yelling for him to open up. I tried to tell
her he wasn’t in there, but she was too manic and drunk to notice me.
She punched through a glass pane in the door and unlocked the latch
to get inside. After running through the smoky apartment for a couple
of minutes, she staggered outside and collapsed in the yard. I ran to
the telephone pole with a fire-pull switch on it and pulled a few times.
The first fire truck showed up after a few minutes and they got Mom
out of the yard and looked after her. An ambulance came and took us
all to the hospital. Mom sustained some cuts on her hand from
punching the glass pane and some mild smoke inhalation. She was
placed back in the detox ward for seventy-two more hours, as well.
The doctors knew her well. Grandma was called, and May and I were
placed in a cab bound for Grandma’s house.
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The next day, Uncle Rob took us to the hospital to see Mom. She
enjoyed all the attention she was getting but was distressed at having
lost everything again due to a fire. She asked Uncle Rob to go with us
to the apartment and scavenge whatever we could save.
When we got the apartment, it was a mess. The stairs were

burnt to a crisp and the whole wall where that spare room was, was
gone. A huge black hole was all that was left. The fire department had
shoved everything in that room out of the hole in the wall onto the
ground under the stairs.
The section of stairs, closest to the wall, was burnt really badly.
We could walk up the stairs, but we had to stay away from the burnt
section and only go up one at a time. It was just Uncle Rob and me, so
we were careful.
Most everything in our apartment was smoke damaged, all

over our clothes, furniture, everything. We got out what we could
carry down the stairs, safely, but left everything that was too heavy
and too damaged. This would be the second time I’d have to go to
school with smoky clothes. I hoped Grandma could wash them out for
us.
We moved to Grandma’s house, again, but not for long.

Grandma had bought a house with some of the insurance money from
Grandpa’s death. It was just a couple of blocks from the house she
lived in, but a lot nicer.
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Chapter 12
Mom got out of the hospital with some stitches in her hand and
angry at her older brother, Jake. Jake helped Grandma buy the house
and was very protective over Grandma, so he gave Mom an
ultimatum that she had one month to find us a new place to live. Mom
didn’t like that, but she had no choice. We stayed and helped
Grandma, Dan, and Lee get settled in, and Mom went out to do her
thing. I roamed the new neighborhood and got to know the streets
better.
After a couple of weeks, we moved into a duplex apartment

next to the Hickory Daily Record Newspaper Company. It was
another crappy one-bedroom apartment, but to me it was just
another neighborhood to roam.
May and I got put into another school, which sucked, that we
had to walk to every day. It was about a mile from the house, but
anytime away from home was nice. Mom was back to her usual ways
in full force. She’d come home with all sorts of people, and not just
men. She collected stray girls and women, too.
She came home with some older girl, at least twenty years old,
one night, and made her sleep on the pullout sofa with me and May.
She fondled me all night long and made me do the same to her. Not
knowing what I was doing scared me to death. I never told anyone
about that night. She was gone the next day, but I was kinda hoping
she had stayed. I was just turning nine and was seeing girls for what
they are, sex objects! But I still had a lot to learn.
Some boring months passed with Mom doing her thing.

Sometimes she’d go away for a day or two, and I’d have to make sure
May and I got fed and off to school the next day. Mom would always
come home in a day or so, even if it was just to change clothes and
leave again. The less we saw her, the less beatings and slave work we
got from her. We didn’t just have to be her slaves, but anyone else’s
she brought home. It was always “get me a beer”, “fix something to
eat”, “clean up this fucking mess”, “go to the store and get me this or
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that”! I hated my life and prayed for the day that I was old enough to
leave her for good. I never even thought about telling the welfare
people about her because I didn’t think anyone would believe me. My
own family never believed me, why would strangers? I told my
uncles, Rob, and Jimmy, about her antics and they didn’t believe any
of it. Well, I was stuck until I got older. I prayed for that day many,
many, times. I thought that day had finally arrived.
May and I had been home for a couple of hours from school
already. I fixed us some hot dogs and macaroni and cheese and sat
around doing not much of nothing. Mom came home with two men.
They were driving a little white Ford Granada. Mom changed clothes
and said she was going to a party, for me to get us off to school if she
wasn’t home by morning. No biggie! They got in the car and left. After
school, the next day, Mom wasn’t home yet. The house was just as we
left it, so I knew she never came home. I fixed us dinner, went to bed,
and back to school the next day. After school, again, no mom. Now I
was beginning to wonder what was up. I went to a pay phone and
called Grandma, collect, because I didn’t have any money. I explained
to her our situation, and she told me to get a change of clothes and
come to her house. It was across town, but I knew the way.
When I got to Grandma’s house, Uncle Rob was there, talking

on the phone. He asked me what Mom was last wearing and I told
him. He looked pretty upset and hung up the phone.
Grandma asked him if she was dead, and Uncle Rob said, “It
looks like it, Mom.” She started crying and I was secretly smiling. I
couldn’t believe my luck. Mom was dead! Yee Haw! I had to control
my happiness and act sad, so no one knew I was secretly elated. It’s
crazy how a nine-year-old could be happy about his mom being dead,
but happy was mild compared to how I felt.
Uncle Rob said he had to go to the police station and the

morgue to see if it was Mom or not. Apparently, two women were
injured fitting Mom’s description. One was shot in the head at a local
bar, and one was hanging onto life support in Winston Salem’s
Baptist Hospital under the name of “Miss X”, because she, too, had no
identification. Mom never carried ID. The woman killed at the bar
sounded just like Mom, right down to her burgundy T-shirt and blue
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jeans. I knew it was her, had to be. The one on life support was hit by
a car in Lenoir, North Carolina, about thirty miles west of Hickory.
That didn’t sound at all like Mom. Uncle Rob left and my mind started
racing thinking of the possibilities that lay ahead of May and me.
What would happen to us?
For me, I was hoping we’d be sent to a foster family or

something, or maybe one of our uncles would take us in. I didn’t want
to live with Grandma because she had Dan and Lee, and Uncle Rob
had just moved back in. He’s always been a mama’s boy and he
always lived with her when he wasn’t trying to live with some girl.
They always got tired of his needy, whiny ways and kicked him back
to Grandma’s house. But, that house was already too full. I had no
idea what the future held for May and me, but hopefully it was Mom-
free!
But, as luck would have it, it wasn’t meant to be. The dead
woman wasn’t Mom. Uncle Jake came to Grandma’s house from
Colerain, North Carolina, a three-hour drive, and took Uncle Rob to
Winston-Salem. They went to try and ID the woman there, due to
Mom still not showing up yet, nor turning up in jail or in the hospital.
I was on edge for the entire time until Grandma got the call that Mom
was indeed alive, barely, and in critical condition.
When they got back to Grandma’s house Uncle Rob said he

barely recognized Mom, and probably wouldn’t have, if not for a
small tattoo of her initials, S.A. on her arm. Sheryl Adamson was still
alive. Damn it!
Things progressed really fast for me and May. We had to go

with Uncle Rob and Uncle Jake to move out of our apartment. We
stored all the stuff in Grandma’s basement. Uncle Jake decided to take
May with him to Colerain because he had a daughter a little younger
than my sister and figured it would be good for her to be around
another girl instead of us boys at Grandma’s. I was a little jealous, but
I didn’t really want to be around Harry. Staying at Grandma’s was
more comfortable for me.
As time progressed, Mom came out of the coma she was in, and
it seemed she was going to make it. We got to visit her, once, and it
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was the craziest sight I ever saw. She was demolished from head to
toe. Her face was lop-sided, and she had casts on both her legs. The
doc said she needed lots of plastic surgery and may never walk again.
I thought, “OH GREAT!!!” I’ll be her slave for real! “FUCK!”
It’d be some months before she’d be able to come home; I went

back to Grandma’s house. School was out, too, so my Uncle Jimmy
came and picked me up to go out on the road with him. It was
something he’d do at least once a summer with me, and besides, it
gave Grandma a break from trying to deal with me. I was too antsy
and hated being cooped up in her house, or yard, all day. At least with
Mom I could roam the neighborhood and do mischief. Grandma didn’t
like it and tried to keep me at home a lot. She didn’t want Dan, or Lee,
to get any ideas of their own and be like me. She kept those kids very,
very sheltered.
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Chapter 13
Uncle Jimmy was a truck driver for a local company, and he

drove mostly east coast runs. On this trip, we were headed to New
York. I really enjoyed riding with Uncle Jimmy. He was a laid-back
guy who loved country music and marijuana. He had so many
girlfriends; it was always hard to keep track of them. His only fault
was falling in love too quickly with these women. They used him for
his money and dumped him when it was gone. At least he had the
highway to turn to so he could put his woes behind him.
Uncle Jimmy was the spitting image of my grandpa. He was six-

foot-four and an easy two hundred fifty pounds of big, badass,
trucker. He resembled the guy who played “Grizzly Adams” on that
show where the guy lived in the mountains with a huge grizzly as a
pet. That was also his C.B. handle. He was a fun-natured guy, and I
always loved Uncle Jimmy. He just never believed me when I told him
how badly Mom treated us. Everyone was blind to her treatment for
some reason. I never could understand it, and I just got tired of telling
people because they never listened and would usually call me a liar
and tell Mom what I said. She’d deny it and beat the shit out of me
later.
Anyway, Uncle Jimmy loved to smoke pot and drive. He had no

idea I smoked it, but he’d pass me a small, zippered pouch and ask me
to load up the corn pipe he smoked out of with it. I’d gladly do it and
make comments about its sweet smell. After he got good and stoned, I
asked him to let me smoke some. He gave me the pipe and made me
promise to never tell anyone, especially Mom. “She’d kick my ass,” he
said. I promised and got to smoking. Needless to say, I don’t
remember New York. I think I saw some cars on the side of the
highway on fire, smoldering, but I’m not sure. I was wasted the whole
trip. We smoked up his stash and he came out with some more.
“Always prepared!” he said. When we were on our way back to North
Carolina and were coming through Virginia, he told me I couldn’t
smoke anymore, because he didn’t want anyone to see me high. I
slept from then on, until we got closer to Hickory. I made him give me
some pot for myself, later. I threatened to tell on him if he didn’t give
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me some. I wouldn’t have told, but it got him to go ahead and give me
a few buds to stash.
Once back at Grandma’s, I’d hide out anywhere I could to take a
few tokes and then I’d be paranoid to even be around anyone. My
favorite smoking spot was behind the house between two trees that
had bushes growing around them. They were on a slope, and I could
lie down and look at the sky while I got high, hidden from the world.
At least I thought so.
Next to Grandma’s house was a duplex apartment. It was a

really big house that was divided into two apartments, side by side. A
woman about twenty lived in one with her five-year-old son, Jim.
Another couple lived in the other one. The couple was hardly ever
home, but Kathy and Jim were. Kathy was outside in her back yard
hanging up clothes. She was a good-looking girl, but to a nine-year-
old kid she was an adult, and I wasn’t looking at women, or girls, in a
sexual manner. She was the enemy and I thought I was being slick
hiding in the bushes smoking joints. I was too high to think anyone,
including Kathy, could smell it.
There I was, sitting on the hill, “hiding” behind some bushes,

smoking a hog leg when this lady snuck up behind me and grabbed
me by the ear, hard, scaring the living shit out of me. I tried to hide
the joint, but she demanded I give it to her, so I did. She surprised me
by telling me to scoot over and she sat next to me and took a hit.
After a good toke, she tried to pass it back to me, but I didn’t want it. I
was too scared to touch it. She laughed at me and asked me if I had
any more. I said, “yes, ma’am!” before I knew what I was doing. She
said to come over to her place at 7 p.m. and to tell Grandma I was
coming over to watch a movie with her and her son, Jim. Also, to
bring what pot I had left with me.
Grandma didn’t care that I was going to Kathy’s to watch a

movie, but said, “to be home at 9 p.m.” I said okay and went out the
door. I knocked on Kathy’s door, and a minute later she answered it,
wearing a powder blue bathrobe. Being a kid, I didn’t think anything
of it. I was nervous, though, because I didn’t know what to expect
with her demanding that I bring ALL my pot over. I didn’t bring it all.
I’m not that stupid. I had about four or five joints worth left, so I only
brought a couple to her. When I came inside, she told me to sit on the
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sofa and asked me if I wanted a soda. I said, “sure.” She grabbed me a

coke and sat next to me, grabbing a wooden tray off the coffee table
with weed paraphernalia on it; papers, clips, one hitter pipes, etc... I
gave her a baggie with a few buds in and she didn’t say anything. She
began to break it up and roll us a joint. She lit it up and passed it to
me, but I tried to refuse, like I was reformed and never going to
smoke again. But she insisted that I smoke it with her, so I did.
About halfway through the joint I asked about Jim and the
movie, and she told me she put Jim to bed, and I’d be watching the
movie with her. She placed her hand on my leg and began rubbing it. I
was stoned and didn’t think anything about it. She took another hit
and asked me if I had a girlfriend yet, and I said, “no ma’am.” She slid
her hand closer to my crotch. She asked me if she could be my
girlfriend and I said, “okay!” I don’t know why, maybe because I was
stoned, or scared, or excited about what I thought was taking place.
But I knew I wanted to see what was going to happen next.
She smiled at me and opened up her bathrobe up so I could see

her naked body. She had nice, big tits and a dark hairy bush between
her legs. She asked me if I ever touched a woman before and I said,
“no ma’am!” She laughed at me and told me not to call her “ma’am”
when we were alone. She stood up and took me into her bedroom.
She undressed me, laid me down on her bed on my back, and
dropped her bathrobe onto the floor. She climbed into bed with me
and began to teach me everything a man and woman do sexually. I
don’t even know if I orgasmed or not, but when I left there at 9 p.m., I
knew I walked differently and with more pep in my step. I felt I had
the greatest secret a boy could ever keep. I went into the house, took
a bath, Kathy told me to, and went to bed. I slept like a baby that
night.
The next day, I had to wait for Kathy to come home from work,
until I could see if I could come back over. She said I could. It became
a regular thing for me to go “watch movies”, or “go play with Jim”.
Kathy was my girlfriend, in my eyes, but I had no idea, then, she was
molesting me. I felt like a man, but I was only a nine-year-old boy.
This went on for about nine years, off and on. She taught me
everything there was to do for a woman, and I used that knowledge
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on all the neighborhood girls, mothers and even a grandmother. I

turned into a straight slut. Kathy was my girl, whenever and however,
I wanted her. Except for when she had boyfriends over. When that
happened, I got pissed off.
A couple of her overnight guests came out the next morning to
see flattened tires on their car, or spray-painted slurs calling them
faggots or homos. Kathy would get onto me about it, but she really
thought it was funny. She made me promise to never do it again, and I
made her promise that she’d never marry one of those guys. She was
going to wait until I turned eighteen and marry me. That was our
“pact”, anyway.
She gave me anything I asked for if she could afford it, dope,
money, clothes, etc. Each time I got moved away, I always went into a
depression funk, but I’d always come out of it and go in search of
other girls or women. Needless to say, I always looked forward to
going to Grandma’s house anytime I could get there. I also liked it
when we didn’t move very far from Grandma’s. I could go to Kathy’s
at will, then.
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Chapter 14
Staying at Grandma’s was fun for me, but I was too much
trouble for her to try and control. I’d leave out during the day, saying
I was going to a friends, only to go to Kathy’s, or roam the streets at
all hours, looking for stuff to steal, or mischief to get into. Grandma
called Uncle Jake and told him he needed to do something about me.
With Mom still in the hospital, and no idea when she’d come back
home, there was no telling what I’d get into.
School was fixing to start up soon, Uncle Jake decided to come

get me and take me to his house in Colerain, to see if living in a
normal environment would help me. It seemed to be working for
May, so why not me?
When I heard he was coming to get me, I begged and pleaded

with Grandma to let me stay with her, but she claimed she couldn’t
watch me any longer. Uncle Rob threatened to beat my ass a couple of
times, but I just ignored him. I even asked Kathy to try and see if
Grandma and Uncle Jake would let me stay with her, but she didn’t
think that was a good idea. She said she didn’t want them to question
her on anything. And I had to agree to go with Uncle Jake. I’d do about
anything for Kathy. I was in love with her completely.
So, I started planning out my stay with Uncle Jake and his
family. I knew Harry would try and pick on me at every corner, so I
geared up my anger and was determined to beat his ass the very first
chance he gave me. I figured that would be my ticket away from
Uncle Jake’s and back to Grandma’s and Kathy. Sometimes I’m
amazed at how smart I am! Ha!
Uncle Jake came and got me two days before school started in
Colerain. When we got to his house, Aunt Shelly, Jake’s wife, was all
over me about Jesus, and him loving me and bringing me to their
house to “heal”. Never understood that, but I knew Aunt Shelly was a
religious nut, so I let her pray for me. Sis was looking brand new with
new clothes, a new haircut, and a bright smile on her face. This type
of living was good for her, and I was happy for that. I missed May.
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Uncle Jake took me into his den and had a “talk” with me about
the rules of his house. No cussing, no fighting, no lying, no stealing
and always say “Yes ma’am” and “Yes sir,” to him, and Aunt Shelly
and all adults. I said, “No problem!” He said he was taking me
shopping for clothes and school supplies, and I’d be sleeping with
Kerby. “No problem,” again. I liked Kerby.
We went shopping and Uncle Jake got me a bunch of cheap

clothing and some cat-head tennis shoes. I asked him why he couldn’t
get me Nikes like his sons had, and he said I had to earn the Nikes,
whatever that meant. I guess I had to do chores, or something. I don’t
know!
Later that night, Harry told me to stay out of his bedroom and I
said, “No problem!” Kerby didn’t even like his brother. He was a
“snob”, Kerby said, and didn’t even like to be seen with him at church.
Ha! I couldn’t wait to take him down.
I was put in the fifth grade the next day. Kerby and May were
both in the second grade and Harry was in the sixth. We all went to
the same school, so it was easy for my aunt to drive us and get me
enrolled.
School was never hard for me. For some reason, I was smart
enough to do most of my homework in class, and I was always
receiving A’s and B’s for grades. I was boosted from second grade to
third grade, midyear, because I was so far ahead of second graders. I
don’t know why. It was all too easy for me, and I didn’t mind doing
homework. I just hated all the attention from the adults for it. I also
didn’t like the looks from fellow students for being smart despite
being the poorest kid in the class.
At Colerain Elementary I stayed very low key. I wasn’t there

that long, but no one got to know me that well anyway. I stayed to
myself, but I did meet one boy who was an outcast, too. He was poor
like me; you could tell by the clothes he wore. We looked like we
shopped at the very same Family Dollar Store.
On a football Friday, Uncle Jake told Harry to take me with him

to the school’s football game. He was pissed off about it, but Harry
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had no choice. Uncle Jake dropped us off before the game started and
said he’d meet us at the exact same spot at 9 p.m. We agreed, and he
gave each of us ten dollars for snacks and such.
When we got inside, Harry immediately turned to me and told

me to get lost. He said not to bother him, follow him, or talk to him. I
said, “No problem, asshole!” and left him standing. I went in search of
the pot smokers if there were any.
I ended up meeting my new buddy, Nick, and we wandered

around and I stared at all the pretty girls and women. Nick thought I
was crazy with my fascination with the girls, but he had no idea. We
ended up under the bleachers and I did find someone who sold us a
joint. We smoked it under the bleachers until someone said they
would call the cops if we didn’t leave. We put out the joint and went
up on the bleachers to watch the game…. stoned.
We ended up a few rows behind my cousin, Harry. He had a set

of very pretty twins sitting with him. I called to him to get his
attention and he scowled at me. The twins looked and I waved at
them. They were smiling and one waved at me. That was all I needed.
I told Nick to “watch this!” and I went and sat next to the twin who
waved at me. She smiled at me and told me her name, but I forgot it. I
was stoned and looking to make Harry look like an ass in front of
these girls. Harry told me to “get lost”, and I said, “FUCK YOU!” He
looked like someone just shot him in the chest; no one must have
ever said that to him before. He stood up and told me to leave, “or
else!” The girl I was talking to stood up and told him to leave me
alone. I stood up and told him I don’t listen to wimps. He got hot! He
pushed the girl aside and I hit him right in the nose. He fell down and
I stood over him daring him to get up. His nose was pouring blood
and the girls took off running and calling for help. He told me his dad
was going to kick my ass and I said, “Fuck you!” again. I turned and
walked away. I went back to the entrance and awaited Uncle Jake’s
arrival.
After a while, he showed up. Harry had a bag of ice on his nose.
Uncle Jake got out of his car and strode over to Harry and asked him
who done it, all the while looking at me. All Harry could do was point
at me. Uncle Jake told us to get in the car.
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When we got home, Aunt Shelly acted like a worried mother

hen and began to pray. Uncle Jake took me to his den and told me he
was going to give me a spanking for hitting Harry. I didn’t say a thing.
He took off his belt, grabbed my left arm, and began to hit my ass
with the belt. After about ten good lashes, I still didn’t cry. He looked
at me and asked me what was wrong with me. I told him nothing’s
wrong with me, it’s just, “you hit like a girl.” He said he’d not raise a
kid like me under his roof, and he’d be taking me back to Grandma’s
the very next day. “Good” I said. “I don’t want to be anywhere I’m not
wanted!” I went to Kerby’s room and told him what I did that night.
Kerby laughed and said his brother was spoiled rotten. He hated to
see me go, but what could I do?
The next morning, I told May “Good-bye” and Uncle Jake drove
me back to Grandma’s house. Grandma didn’t enjoy seeing me, but
Uncle Jake promised her I’d behave myself. He threatened me on the
drive back with putting me in a boy’s home if I acted out at
Grandma’s. I didn’t want to go to any “boys’ home”, so I knew I had to
tighten up and act somewhat considerate towards Grandma and help
her around the house. He left and I went directly to Kathy’s.
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Chapter 15
My routine, back at Grandma’s, changed a bit. I decided to keep

up my end of the bargain and do chores around the house. I even
planted Grandma a small garden in her back yard. I mowed her grass,
took out the trash and fed her dog on a daily basis. She was happy
and so was I.
During the day, I went to school. I was back in Kenworth

Elementary among the other kids who were less fortunate, so I didn’t
feel so bad about being there.
In the evenings, and on the weekends, I’d use Grandma’s

mower and go cut neighbors’ yards. I only made about ten to fifteen
dollars a yard, but it was a lot to me. It was pot money and clothes
money. I’d buy my clothes from the Army and Navy store close to
downtown. They had Levis for twenty bucks and Converse All Stars
for twenty dollars, too. I always wanted some Levis as a kid, and
Chuck Taylor’s were the shoe of choice back then. I’d save up to buy
at least one pair of shoes and a couple pairs of pants. I was feeling
really sporty when I was wearing them to school.
Smoking pot became a routine for me. I’d hide in the woods, go
to Kathy’s house, or go to the kid’s house that got me the pot.
Grandma never knew, but Uncle Rob did. He tried to blackmail me
into “loaning” him a few bucks, one night, or he’d “tell Grandma I was
smoking pot”. I gave him the money (five dollars) and he never paid
me back. I got his ass back many times after that.
Kathy became a normal routine, also. She gave me clothes, too.

Also, some playboy magazines to help me “see some stuff” she said. I
tried as much as I possibly could with her and enjoyed every minute
of it. It helped me to open up to girls that were much older than me,
and it got me into plenty of panties and bedrooms. I was all over the
neighborhood trying to bed every girl around, and no one knew a
thing about Kathy.
After about six months, Mom came home from the hospital. She
was placed in a hospital bed in Grandma’s spare bedroom behind the
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living room and across the hall from Grandma’s bedroom. She had
two casts, from her pelvis area to her ankles. Her face was still kinda
lopped-sided and there was scar tissue all over her face.
Her story was that the two guys she had left with told her
they’d be taking her to a party in Lenoir, North Carolina, about thirty
miles from Hickory. Mom was game and off they went. As they were
crossing a small bridge the passenger pulled a gun and demanded
Mom to take off all her clothes. Mom, being drunk, had no idea what
they were up to, so she just opened up the back door and jumped out
of a moving car. She said she barely remembered getting onto her
knees when she blacked out. That was when an oncoming car hit her
and drug her thirty feet over the bridge. The driver was an old lady
driving an old Ford Falcon who was just released from the hospital
earlier that week. When she pulled over, she thought she had hit a
dog. When she saw there was a human under the car, she passed out
onto the road. A passing car had to stop and help them both. Mom
was medic-flown to Winston-Salem Hospital and placed on life
support.
We had to seriously take care of her on a daily basis. Feed her,

clean up behind her, get her medication, etc. I hated every minute of
it!!!
I started acting up again and staying out late. Mom tried to act
tough and tell me what to do, but I didn’t pay attention to her until
she, too, used the ploy of calling the cops and getting me put into a
boy’s home somewhere. I guess Uncle Jake told her about his threat
and how it worked to put me in line. It didn’t change the fact that I
wished she’d die on a daily basis.
After some time went by, a month or so May was brought back.
Uncle Jake asked Mom if he could adopt her and Mom screamed, “hell
no!” I wish he would have adopted her. Mom just wanted her for the
extra income from welfare checks and food stamps. She really didn’t
want us for anything other than security and slavery. That’s just how
I saw it. There was no other explanation.
One day, after I came home from school, Mom was gone. I
immediately thought “Thank God” thinking she had died. But…not to
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be. Mom called Grandma to the room and told her she had a tingling
sensation in her legs. She got Grandma to help her up, and Mom
actually walked. This, after the doctors told her she would never walk
again. UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE! Mom got Grandma to give her
some stretch pants and a shirt to put on and a few dollars. Mom
called a cab and left the house, bound for her favorite bar…Bert’s
Diner.
Grandma had been crying and Uncle Rob was pissed. I thought
it was the funniest thing I’d ever heard before.
What was even funnier was seeing the cops pull up in front of
Grandma’s house with Mom laid out in the back seat, drunker than
ever before. We had to help her, and her casted legs, out of the cop
car and into the bedroom and into bed. She couldn’t even form words
she was so drunk. I knew right then that my life was going to suck for
a mighty long time to come.
The next day, after school, Mom was sitting in a chair in the
living room and Uncle Rob was cutting off her casts with a saw. Mom
was ready to be Mom again and no casts were going to stop her.
Being cooped up in a hospital and bedroom for about eight months
was enough for her. After that, Mom would be gone by the time I got
home from school, out and about, and drunk as a skunk. Mom at her
usual, except for one thing, she was ugly as sin. She wasn’t “Wild cat,”
or “Amazon,” anymore. Gone was the wild, good-looking, red head
that got paid for sex. Now she caught pure hell trying to catch a man
to give her money for sex. Ha! Karma, bitch!
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Chapter 16
Mom finally Healed enough for us to move out. I wasn’t looking

forward to this, again, but what could I do? Uncle Jake saw to it that
we got out of Grandma’s house by giving us a deadline. Mom said she
had the social worker trying to help find a place to live, since Mom
burnt every bridge with most of the realtors in town. We ended up
moving to a place I never thought we’d live: the hood.
I came home from school to see Uncle Rob and Mom loading up
our belongings in a pickup that was stored in Grandma’s basement.
The hood was only a few blocks from Grandma’s house, across
highway 127. We loaded up the truck, and I jumped into the back of it
with our stuff and anticipated what I’d see.
We drove a few blocks and pulled into a parking lot. Black

people came out from everywhere to see the white people moving
into their neighborhood. Our apartment was adjacent to the highway,
and about midways between a long building of apartments. Each
building had six apartments; ours was number three. Our neighbors
looked at us with deep concern in their eyes. I looked at them with
caution and curiosity. Some of the kids I knew from school; they ran
to help us, so we let them.
Once we got settled in, Mom let me go outside and play. I took
May with me and went to see what this place was all about. Some of
the kids were really friendly, but their parents weren’t. I could tell
they didn’t want us in their neighborhood, so I steered clear of them.
Not all of the parents were mean to us. One, in particular, would call
me and May into her apartment and feed us. She always had a big pot
of something cooking on the stove. I didn’t always know what I was
eating, but being a growing boy, I ate it with thanks and gusto.
Mom got into a usual routine of going out again. She found two
sisters, who lived a few doors down, to babysit for her while she’d go
out. Toni and Lea both were very pretty and only a few years older
than I was. They had no idea what a lil’ sex monster I was, but I let
them find out very quickly. The very first night they babysat we
played a game of tag and grab ass with each other, until I got Toni, the
oldest, to chase me into my bedroom, upstairs. She wrestled me down
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and straddled me, holding my hands down on either side of my face.

As she was looking down at me, smiling and panting, I started to get
hard. I eased my pelvis up and bumped into her. She was shocked and
asked me what I thought I was doing. I told her I was checking to see
if she was interested in having sex with a white boy. She looked at me
like she was thinking it over and then reached down between her
legs to feel my hard-on. She got up and shut the door and told me to
show it to her. I told her to show me hers. We got naked together and
had really fast sex. She begged me to never tell anyone about it and I
agreed, except she didn’t, she told her sister.
A few days later, they took me to a place with cardboard boxes

on the ground, and Toni kept watch as Lea took her turn with me.
They never had anyone lick their cunts like I did. I had lots of fun with
those sisters, during the short time I was in the hood. They laid claim
to me to all other girls. No one else really wanted me in that aspect,
and I’m sure the sisters liked that just fine. I was their secret, and
they were mine.
Mom never got along with anyone there. People steered clear
of her and barely talked to her. After a few months, I could tell Mom
wasn’t happy with our situation at all. It was only getting worse.
Our next-door neighbor’s son used to come and play with me

almost daily. We’d play cops and robbers in the parking lot, or
wrestle in the back yard. One day, for whatever reason, he punched
my sister in the stomach. Being me, I attacked him, so we both fell out
the screen door and down three steps into the backyard. I was in
such a state of mind that I pummeled his face with punches and then
grabbed him by the ears and pounded his head into the clothesline
pole. His screaming brought his mom outside. She grabbed me off of
her son by the hair of my head. Mom came out and saw her holding
me by the hair and snapped, calling her all sorts of black profane
names, and threatening to beat her ass. She let me go and scooped up
her whining son and carried him into her apartment. We went in ours
and I told Mom what happened. She said I did the right thing
protecting May, so it was all good.
That night Mom went out and the sisters babysat. YAY!
Only, it wasn’t a good night, later on. The sisters only stayed
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around for sex and had to be home by 9 p.m. They’d only watch
us and put us to bed, ahem, then go home. Sometime, early in the
morning, the thunder came home again. Mom came home with
The Outlaws. They were in hell-raising mode, too.
Bikes were in the parking lot and up and down the roads,
revving loudly. They were yelling profanities and shooting guns off. I
knew this would have a bad ending, so I just held onto May when she
rushed into my room. They came in and out of our apartment all
night long. By sunlight, only a few were passed out in our apartment,
most had left.
When I finally came to and went outside, there was a piece of

paper stuck to our door: an eviction notice! I gave it to Mom, and she
just shook her head. There was nothing she could do about it. It came
from the H.U.D. people. We had to get the fuck out of the hood.
For the next thirty days, Mom partied and raised hell. The
neighbors treated us like pariahs, except for my girlfriends. They
hated losing me. I taught them so many of the things that Kathy
taught me, they wanted to run away with us. Ha! There was nowhere
else to go, so off to Modesto, California we went.
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Chapter 17
We stored most of our belongings at Grandma’s and were put

on a Greyhound bus, headed west on I-40. California here we come. It
took three, grueling days of changing buses and eating bologna
sandwiches until we finally got to Modesto’s bus station. I enjoyed
the trip immensely. Seeing the countryside from a bus window was a
huge experience for me. I was used to seeing new places, since Mom
liked to move around a lot, but this was on a grander scale. I could’ve
kept on going.
At the station, we met Mom’s Uncle, Sunny. He was a shock to

see, too. He was a male version of my grandmother. I asked Mom if he
and Grandma were twins, but she said, “No.” You could have fooled
me. Sunny was the spitting image of Grandma. He loaded us up in a
van and drove us to his house. On the way, he laid out the rules we
were to follow. No biggie for me, I’ve heard them all.
The house he lived in was small; a two-bedroom, one bath

home in a lazy neighborhood. Uncle Sunny’s wife, Liza, was Hawaiian.
She was a mean lady who stayed grouchy the whole time we stayed
there. Mom and “Uncle Sunny”, as we called him, would sit under a
pomegranate tree and drink beer all day until they argued. It didn’t
last long. We got kicked out in about a week.
The next place we moved to was Aunt Berta’s house in Ceres.

She, too, was another version of Grandma; only she was very nice to
us. Her house was also small, and it smelled like dogs. She owned
three, huge German shepherds that she let run through the house.
Her husband, “Wormy”, was a couch potato who just sat and drank all
day. He and Mom got along great.
While at Aunt Berta’s house we were made to go to school at

the local elementary school. I was a grade away from junior high, but
the school year was almost up. I met all sorts of kids and was really
enjoying the neighborhood. I met a big girl named April, that was at
least two-hundred pounds, who lived next to a park. She was very
pretty, with huge breasts. She smiled at me and that’s all it took for
me to know she’d be worth experimenting with. I had never been
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with a big girl before. She became my girlfriend for the short time I
was in Ceres.
Mom and Aunt Berta got us signed up for welfare and housing,
and we were moved to a neighborhood called Palisades Park, in
Modesto. It was the white trash hood. It was a few blocks of duplexes
and triplex-style apartments, full of whites, Mexicans, and Asians.
Most of the whites were bikers, Hell’s Angels. Mom was in heaven!
Not only did we get a welfare check on the first of the month, but also
on the fifteenth of the month, plus foods stamps. We were in hog
heaven.
The apartment we moved in wasn’t furnished, except for a sofa

bed in the living room. It was a nice two-bedroom apartment, with
yellow shag carpeting throughout. I got the extra room and May had
to share with Mom. We didn’t have much to unpack since most of our
property was in bags and suitcases. Mom let me go out to explore.
Outside in the street were a couple of guys playing football. I

introduced myself and they let me toss it around, too. One kid was
named Steve. He was sixteen, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, and was
an avid Oakland Raiders fan. The other kid was Dave. He was thirteen
and kind of chubby. Steve said Dave was a Momma’s boy. I asked
about pot, and Steve said he could get some from the Mexicans
anytime I wanted some. Cool! First, I had to find some money. Time
progressed.
I was enrolled into Prescott Junior High School. The school I

went to in Hickory went up to the eighth grade for elementary school.
This junior high was sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. I was finally in
junior high. I loved it. I was still young, scrawny, and poor, but I was
smart. That was what got me moved up a few grades earlier on. I
signed up for art class and track, two of my favorites.
Art class was great. I could do whatever I liked, which was

draw. I learned how to use colors, such as paint, pastels, and pencils
and pens and crayons, too. My teacher told me, “She saw a great
artist” in my work. I felt proud to be noticed for a change.
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Track was just as cool. I knew I had lots of wind from

constantly riding bicycles but running was new to me. As time
progressed, I became the third best runner in class. For the year or so
I lived in Modesto, running became an everyday thing for me, that,
and bicycling, of course.
Every evening, and the weekend, became my time to roam.

Dave was in school with me, so he and I buddied up and would roam
around looking for stuff to steal and sell. He was a Momma’s boy, but
he tried really hard to be a thug. He fought all of the time, lost most of
them, and walked around with a constant scowl. I never understood
him; his mom and dad had a really nice house next to the hood and he
had the nicest, baddest, BMX, Mongoose bike in the neighborhood. He
also had at least five dollars cash on him, daily. We’d use that to buy a
couple of sticks of weed from the Mexican kid, yet he still wanted to
go out with me and steal. Well, he had the bicycle. I’d ride on the pegs,
and he’d pedal us everywhere until I got me a bike.
We combed lots of neighborhoods, until I found another

Mongoose just lying in a yard. I got on it and pedaled all the way back
to our neighborhood. All I had to do was strip the paint, sand it down,
and I was the proud owner of a cool BMX bike, too. Now I could go
places on my own. Mom never asked any questions of my comings
and goings, only that I watch May when she needed me to—not a
problem.
Mom would pull her stunts just like she did in Hickory. She’d
disappear for a couple days at a time, But I always had Uncle Sunny’s
phone number handy, just in case she never came back home. She
started hanging out with the Hell’s Angels more and more often. She
hooked up with a guy I’ll call “Snake”. He had a huge tattoo of a snake
on his arm. He was cool to me and May, but he paid little attention to
us. He did a lot of motorcycle repairs in his front yard at his
apartment, just a few doors down. He also had the coolest motorcycle
on the street. It had an American flag gas tank and huge, chrome,
screaming skull gas cap for a decoration. It was as big as a softball
with its mouth wide open and ruby eyes. It faced the driver, so it
looked like it was screaming at you as you rode it. Mom spent tons of
time at Snake’s apartment.
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I spent tons of time riding, running, and stealing. Dave showed

me lots of places to steal from. He took me to the mall and showed me
the stores that was easy to shoplift out of. We’d steal stupid crap, but
the Mexicans didn’t care, they’d trade us weed for anything we
brought them. Their main need was bicycles, like ours. Dave and I
would comb neighborhood after neighborhood looking for BMX bikes
to steal. We stole Mongooses, Redlines, and any kind of BMX we seen.
I’d just ride up into the yard and pick up the bike, toss it over my
shoulder, and ride away. I’d take them into my bedroom for future
stripping. We’d get three or four bikes and spend hours in my room
tearing them apart, scraping paint, switching sprockets and tires
around to change the bikes appearances. Then we’d take them, one at
a time, to a certain Mexican and get a bag of weed. Usually, a half
ounce to an ounce, it all depended on the name brand of the bike.
Needless to say, my bedroom became a mess. The yellow

carpeting was trashed, as well as the closet walls, where I kept a ton
of bike parts hanging on clothes hangers. When we moved, Mom
screamed. Ha! There went our deposit.
Mom became a Hell’s Angel bitch. She got a “bitch” patch put on
the back of her blue jean vest, and she rode everywhere with Snake.
May and I had lots of time to ourselves during this period. Mom
would be gone, or at Snakes house, most of the time. Since she got
checks and food stamps twice a month, we always had food in our
apartment, so at least we ate well. It fell on us to bathe and change
clothes. I even had to wash our clothes by myself. The apartments
had a washer and dryer room in each building, so that helped.
Of course, I had lots of lil’ girls all over the place. My girlfriend
in school was named May, like my sister. She was red-headed and as
pretty as could be. I taught her all sorts of things and she fell madly in
love with me. I broke her heart when she caught me with my hand
down another girl’s pants behind the Rec building. She still chased
after me, but it was always in a whiny, whimpering mood. I got tired
of that and got mean to her in front of a lot of other people to chase
her off. To this day I feel bad about that.
The girl I was in love with was Steve’s girlfriend, Suzy. She was
the hottest girl in the neighborhood and still a virgin. That made me
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into a crazy boy. I prided myself on being lots of girls’ first sexual
experience and if I knew a girl was a virgin, I just had to have them.
I’d pursue them with lie after lie until I got their cherry. Then, I’d
move onto the next. I was only a kid, ten or eleven years old, but I was
chasing all ages.
Steve was my big brother, my buddy. He’d take me around his

friends and treat me like a kid brother. He knew I was fucking every
girl in the neighborhood and thought that was funny. He even backed
me up one day when I had to fight a kid bigger than me. I beat the boy
up, but not until he blackened my eye first. I had taken his girlfriend
from him, and he walked up to me, not saying a word, and punched
me in the eye, knocking me down. Steve knocked him onto the
ground immediately after, telling him to explain why he hit me. I
admitted to getting into his girlfriend’s panties and he wanted to
fight. So be it! I squared off with him and we went at it. It didn’t take
but a second for him to start screaming for help. I latched onto his
neck and started chocking the life out of him. Steve pulled me off him,
and that ended that. Little did Steve know that I had my sights set on
Suzy.
When he and her got into a spat about sex, she’d come crying to
me. Why? I have no idea. They’d fight and here she’d come. I’d always
try to talk her into going back to Steve, but I was really trying to find
a way to get in her panties, and without Steve finding out. That was
the problem. Every time she’d come to my place to “talk” (more like
whine), Steve would hear about it, and come knocking on my door
questioning me as to what she said. Steve lived directly across the
street from us, so he could see my front door. Every time they fought,
I was willing to bet, he’d watch my apartment to watch her come and
talk to me. The next day it’d be “What’d she says Tommy?” “What’d
you tell her?” so on and so forth. I got sick of that crap, quickly, but I
enjoyed Suzy’s company. She’d always leave my place smiling and
happier than when she came over. We’d talk, I’d crack jokes, talk
about all my girls, and she’d admonish me for being a dog, but she
always came back over. Crazy!
Mom and Snake got into a motorcycle wreck. They were

driving along on an almond grove road, heading to a party, when a
Mexican pulled out of a side road and hit the motorcycle. Mom was
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flung out into a sandy field of almond trees. Snake was castrated and
paralyzed from the waist down, due to that screaming skull gas cap.
When he flew over the gas tank, the skull caught him by the belt
buckle, and dug in. “Bye-Bye” working parts! Mom was immediately
released from the hospital with a fractured forearm. Snake had a long
way before he came home.
In the meantime, I was doing great. I won two contests for art
in school. A first-place prize for a poster I made for the United Way
Foundation, and a second-place prize for some sort of Fellowship
Organization. The first-place prize got me a check for five-hundred
dollars or an art scholarship to a school. Mom wanted the check for
five-hundred dollars. I got a hundred of that. The second-place prize
gave me three hundred dollars. Mom kept all of that. The dirty Bitch!!
In track, I kept coming in third place in the distance race. I

couldn’t beat a tall kid named Ryan, or a Mexican kid named
Umberto. It was always Ryan, Umberto, and then me. Even in the
contest of other schools, it was always the same finish. I had
numerous trophies and ribbons, but never anyone to celebrate with
me. After each meet, I’d get on my bike and go home. I’d stuff the
ribbons in a dresser and the trophies in the closet with my bike parts.
It was no big deal to anyone but me. Whenever I’d get frustrated, I’d
take off out of the apartment and just run, run, run. I could run for
miles and not get tired.
Before long, an episode ended my California fun. Suzy came

over to whine, and we smoked a joint and drank a couple of Mom’s
beers. Somehow, some way, she ended up naked on my sofa. I told
her I was in love with her, and she told me she had a crush on me, too.
She said she heard about me loving to lick pussies and I begged her to
let me show her. She told me she was a virgin and I told her she could
stay a virgin. I didn’t have to fuck her. She was tipsy and stoned but
gave into me. I licked her pretty, lil’ pussy until she couldn’t take it
anymore. She pulled me up to her eye level and told me to take her
cherry. I was already hard as a rock and eased my way up inside. We
fucked three times that night. I had to clean up the blood after our
first session, but that didn’t stop me from tasting every inch of her.
She snuck out early in the morning. We promised to keep our affair a
secret and do it more often. She wanted to forgive Steve and give him
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some pussy now that she wasn’t a “scared lil’ virgin” anymore. I
agreed, but deep down I wanted her to myself.
Of course, the next day, here comes Steve. “What’d she says?”,
“What’d you say?” Blah, blah, blah!! He was happy to know that I
talked Suzy into going back to him as his girlfriend. But I didn’t tell
him she was going to give him some sex. She could surprise him.
Which surprised me, because she didn’t give him any for a month
after I popped her cherry. She kept crawling through my bedroom
window at night, so Steve wouldn’t see her, and we’d have tasty sex
all night long. I’d be dead tired in school, but I didn’t care. I was
fucking Suzy Kelly! Yay!
This went on and on, until one day, Suzy broke down and told
me she had sex with Steve. “He sucked,” she said. He came in a
second upon entering her and that was that. Ha! I told her she had
teased the poor fella for two years, that’s how long they were a
couple, what did she expect? She laughed it off and said she didn’t
want to have sex with anyone but me. I didn’t want to have to fight
Steve at all; I was scared of him. I knew he'd beat my ass in a fight, but
my mind was racing as to how I could steal Suzy away from Steve
without him killing me. There wasn’t a way; to Steve I was a
harmless, lil’ kid who bragged about fucking every girl in the
neighborhood, stole all sorts of stuff, and smoked pot. To him I was a
nobody kid. Who would’ve imagined that I could steal his girl, let
alone take her virginity before he could? I told Suzy to give him
another chance, she said she would.
A few days went by, and Suzy came over. She told me she was
pregnant, and it was mine. I was floored. Oh my God! I’m a ten-year-
old kid. I’m too young to be a daddy. She cried, I cried. We didn’t
know what to do. She said she was sick for the past few days, and she
told her mom. They went to the doctor and found out she was two
months pregnant. It was exactly two months ago; I popped her
cherry. UGH! She said she hadn’t told Steve yet, and I begged her not
to. She said her mom and dad think it’s Steve’s baby because she
didn’t tell them about us. Steve would know it wasn’t his kid because
she just started having sex with him a few weeks ago, not two
months. She left my place crying and upset because I told her she
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needs to have an abortion. I was too young to be a dad, and she was
going to be a mom. She was fifteen.
Well, I told Mom and she just shook her head. She told me that
Steve was going to kick my ass when he sees me, and I agreed. She
told me to just wait to see what happens with Suzy and her parents;
maybe Suzy will just get an abortion. I was more worried about Steve
than anything else.
That night, I packed my backpack with my favorite clothes in

case I had to run away. I didn’t know where I’d go, but I was going to
get the hell out of that neighborhood, especially when Steve found
out.
The next morning, he was knocking on my door with a baseball

bat. Mom told him if he laid a hand on me, she’d have him arrested.
He wasn’t hearing that. He yelled over her shoulder that he’d catch
me and beat my head in. While Mom had him distracted at the front
door, I climbed out my bedroom window. The night before,
anticipating this event, I had placed my bike outside my window. I got
on my bike and rode like a demon away from there. I had no money,
just clothes in my backpack. I went to the greyhound station and
called Grandma, collect.
After explaining the situation to Grandma, I begged her to send

me a bus ticket bound for Hickory. She told me to call her back in
thirty minutes. I called her back and she told me she would get the
bus ticket and thirty dollars to eat on. God bless Grandma. I sold my
bike to the greyhound attendant for twenty dollars and waited a few
hours for Grandma’s ticket and money to be wired to me. I got on a
bus headed east. I made it all the way back to Hickory. Uncle Rob
picked me up, saying Mom had called every day thinking I was still in
California hiding out. Grandma told her I was on my way back, and
Mom was pissed off; I had left her having to deal with my bad
situation. When I talked to Mom on the phone, she said Suzy’s
parents were mad as hell that Suzy had had sex with a ten-year-old
kid. They would have been alright if it was Steve’s baby, but since it
was mine, Suzy scheduled an abortion. I felt really bad for Suzy, but
not for Steve; he was a jackass. Mom said Steve kept making threats
until she had to knock on his parent’s door with a shotgun. She
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demanded that Steve stay the hell away from her house, or she’d
shoot him. They got the message.
Mom ended up having her own troubles just a month later. She
helped bring Snake home from the hospital in a wheelchair. He was
paralyzed from the waist down, and he lost his penis and testicles to
the screaming skull. Mom, being his bitch, had to take care of him.
Well, Mom didn’t like taking care of anyone at all, not even her own
kids, so she sure as hell wasn’t taken care of no broke man. He
couldn’t have sex with her anymore, so “nope”, she was out of there.
The Hells Angels stripped her of her “colors”, and Mom was packed
up, too. She was back in Hickory in a few days, and it was all back to
normal at Grandma’s house. California was fun and I’m sure I’ll see it
again one day.
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Chapter 18
After a while, we ended up moving to, yet another crappy

apartment. That didn’t last but a month when Mom pulled one of her
“mid-night moves”. She’d wake us up at an early, or late, hour and tell
us to pack up, we were moving. No other explanation needed to me. I
was to gather my little bit of personal belongings and load them up
into whatever vehicle we were leaving in. This time it was a truck
with some new stranger. This guy looked younger than Mom, so it
made me wonder what the hell he saw in her. Whatever it was, he
was helping pack up the truck. Before morning, we were heading
down some highway to a house way out in the country.
We arrived around daylight. It was a home on a two-lane

blacktop road, away from any other homes; you couldn’t see another
house for the hills. Across the road was a huge garden, and to the
right of the house, by about fifty yards, was a huge pigpen and barn,
hogs everywhere. The smell was horrific.
The guy took us in and introduced us to his mom and sister.

They all three lived in the house. The Mom was a typical old country
girl, short, scrawny, gray haired, wrinkled, but nice. The sister is what
I had my eye on. She was sixteen, a redhead, freckled, and beautiful.
She didn’t look happy at seeing us.
May and I were made to go outside and look around while the
adults talked. We went to the fence of the pigpen to look at all the
pigs, there were hundreds of them. I never saw so many pigs before.
We held our noses the whole time.
Later on, we were called to the house. We were fed and told
we’d be living here for a month. I kept eyeing the redhead and
wondered what she’d look like naked. I think she could tell I was a bit
more aware of her than most boys my age. She had no idea of the
thoughts I had going through my brain. My lil’ pecker wouldn’t go soft
around her. I had to stay seated or leave the room. All I knew was I
had to try and have sex with her.
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For some reason we skipped school, and I wasn’t mad about it

at all. I had found an old bicycle to ride, so I set out to see the area…
gotta roam!
The roads went on for miles. They were up and down, hilly, and
straight, curly, and loopy, just insane. I rode that bike all day long and
only passed a few houses. We were WAY out in the country, and I still
don’t know where in North Carolina where we were. I still enjoyed
getting on the bike and riding, just to be alone.
Back at the house, though, was fun for me, too. I’d follow Kelly,
the redhead, all day. She thought I was a pest until one day I asked
her if she had a boyfriend. She said, “No”. I asked her if I could be her
boyfriend and she said, “No”. I asked her if she’d ever had sex, and
that caught her attention. She looked at me like I was crazy, so I re-
asked her the question. She asked me what I knew about sex, and I
told her to let me show her. She was looking at me, and I could tell
she was thinking about it. She told me to leave her alone and walked
away. I knew I had her, then.
Mom’s boyfriend was really cool, too. He had a stolen Plymouth

Road Runner (I didn’t know what year, but it was old with a fin on the
trunk) in the garage which was part of the basement. He’d take me on
spins up the roads at really fast speeds. He’d even drive me through
cow pastures to chase cows. We even raced the local highway
patrolman, once. He knew the guy, so it was all in fun. We were told
to be careful on certain days (his days off duty), and we went on
about our business.
The pig farm was really cool to me. I’ve been at pig farms
before, but this one was like a cattle pasture full of pigs. I met the old
guy who owned the pen, and he offered me a job of keeping an eye on
the pigs when he wasn’t around. He said he couldn’t pay me much,
but he’d do what he could for me. I offered to help whenever he
needed me to.
The pigs were cool to chase and be chased by. The sows and
“Bulls” would get after me when I started the lil’ piglets to screaming.
Once I got on the fence, I was safe, but not every time did I make it to
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that fence. Those big old pigs were fast sometimes; I’d been nipped a
few times.
The old man fed the hogs once a day. Every time I saw him
come down the road, I’d go running to the pen. Some days it was just
bags and bags of hog feed, and other days it was donated slop from
local places like restaurants and meat processing companies. On good
days, for me were when he had fifty-gallon drums full of Hostess
cakes. He’d let me and May go through them, and get out all that days,
and the two days past the expiration date cakes for us to eat. There’d
be lots of them, too; we’d end up getting sick from too much sugar,
but we loved the cakes.
Every now and then, Mom’s boyfriend, I can’t remember his

name for anything, would get me to go out with him at night, and
we’d steal a pig or two. He’d take them to the slaughterhouse, and in
a couple of days, we’d be eating all sorts of pork. I didn’t care that we
were stealing from the old man; he used to give him a pig twice a year
for his help keeping an eye on the pen. I guess since we were all living
kind of poor, taking a pig to eat every now and then was okay. I
believe the old man knew Mom’s boyfriend was the constant thief,
but he never said anything about it.
Across the road from us was a huge garden. It was row upon
row of various vegetables. The guy, who owned it, wasn’t as nice as
the old man. He chased me away the first time I met him. He told me
to stay out of his garden or he’d shoot me. I believed him, too. Even
that threat didn’t get me to stop thinking of ways to steal his
tomatoes and cucumbers. I memorized where they were located so I
could come back at night. His field was left unprotected most of the
time. He was there on a daily basis, but not twenty-four hours a day.
Mom’s boyfriend already knew this and had me out and about
one late night. We took burlap sacks and crept into the field and took
what we wanted by flashlight. We made several trips to the house’s
basement until we felt we had enough. Mom, his mom, his sister, and
May did all the other work to clean them and store it. Needless to say,
the old man was fuming hot and knew it was us. We took tree
branches and fanned out our tracks, plus we went out of the garden
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on the opposite side of our house, so not to lead the blame to us, but
he knew! He knew!
We had to supplement food from somewhere. In Hickory, Mom

would just have me take a shopping cart from the store and we’d use
it to go to three food banks and Mom would whine and cry until we
got some groceries. Out here, in the country, it was just gardens and
pigpens.
On days when I was bored, I’d just ride the bicycle all over, or
I’d go cross country. There were a few hilly areas next to some
woods; I decided to investigate the area further. After I got over the
first hill, I noticed some huge power lines running across the hills.
(The type that were attached to huge towers and could be seen going
across the landscape). I skirted the power lines right along the edge
of the woods, constantly looking to see what I could see. After a
couple of hills had gotten behind me, I noticed the smell wafting
across the breeze: POT!
I kept going until it got a lot stronger. I knew I was close, so I

went into the woods, and sure enough, I ran into a huge patch of
towering pot plants. From my earlier experience with pissed off pot
growers, I knew to be wary, so I went scouting all around this patch
before I struck it. I saw no one, but I was still leery. I could hear a
motor of some sort in the distance but didn’t know where the sound
was coming from since power lines omitted a nonstop hum. I decided
to go ahead and take a plant or two with me.
After I got one plant out, I heard the motor sound again, it was
closer. I looked out of the edge of the woods and saw a kid a bit older
than me on a three-wheeler heading my way. I ducked back into the
woods and hid. The kid pulled up next to the patch and got off of the
three-wheeler and walked into the pot patch. He walked around for a
few minutes and then hollered out, “I done seen ya, you can come on
out, now”. I froze up. I thought, “Damn, how did he see me?” When he
yelled out, “It’s okay, kid, I watched you walk all the way out here
with my binoculars. You ain’t in no trouble. You can come out.” I said,
“screw it!” and walked out into the open. He didn’t have a gun, or a
weapon, so I wasn’t too scared of him. He walked over to me and said
his name was Fred, and he lived back in the woods about a half mile
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behind us. He said you couldn’t see his house through all of the trees,
but from his tree house he could see everything. He was in it when he
saw me walking along the power lines and decided to follow me after
he saw me veer into his dad’s pot patch. He said his dad would’ve
shot me if he’d caught me, so he was glad to warn me. He didn’t have
any friends out here and hoped I could hang out with him. All the pot
I could smoke, you bet I was going to hang out with him.
He knew Mom’s boyfriend and family. He was hot after Kelly,

too, but she didn’t like him. His dad was a truck driver most of the
time and dealt in pot the rest of the time. He was fifteen years old,
and I could tell he was a lonely kid.
He gave me the plant I pulled up and told me I could have as

much as I wanted when I was hanging with him. Later on, I met his
dad and he turned out to be a good dude, too. There wasn’t a mom; he
said she ran off years earlier. Whenever I had some spare time, I’d
run off and get stoned with Fred. We’d ride his three-wheeler for
miles, hunt birds, and just hang out.
Back at the house, things were heating up for me and Kelly. For
some reason, there was a homemade waterbed in the basement, and
I’d go down there to smoke a joint. I had found an old eight-track
player and a small speaker in a box on a shelf, so I asked Mom’s
boyfriend to hook it up for me, and he did. There were some tapes
from Meatloaf, ‘Bat Out of Hell’, Steve Miller Band, ‘Fly Like an Eagle’,
and Black Sabbath. I’d go lie on the waterbed, smoke a joint, and jam
out. By this time, Mom knew I was smoking and just didn’t care. I had
given them the pot plant to dry out and sell, so she enjoyed the
benefits of its sell by getting drunk. One thing Mom, her boyfriend,
and his mom had in common was drinking.
Anyway, one day, I was downstairs, and Kelly came down. She
flung herself onto the bed and told me to roll up a joint. This was a
first for me because she never smoked weed in front of me, so I never
knew she even smoked it. Well, I fired up a joint and we smoked it
while listening to one of the Bat Out of Hell songs. When “Paradise by
the Dashboard Lights”, got to the part of running the bases, she asked
me if I knew what they were talking about. She knew; she was just
teasing and fishing to see if I knew. So, I told her bluntly that the guy
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was fixing to fuck the girl, but she wasn’t giving it up until he made a
verbal commitment. She acted surprised that I knew that. She had no
idea what this ten-year-old boy knew. I flirted and tried to scoot
closer to her, all the while trying to hide my erection. That day wasn’t
to be the one, but it came very soon.
After I realized that she liked to come downstairs and listen to

the tapes, I tried to stay in the basement all the time. She’d come and
see me, and smile a smile that said, “I know what you’re up to!” One
day, she got a bit too stoned and asked me to kiss her. After that, it
was on. We ended up naked, sweaty and her shivering like she was
freezing cold. Her body was a treasure to me. I explored every inch of
her with fascination. This lasted about a month until Mom told me we
were moving back to Hickory. God, I hated Mom then more than ever.
Freddy gave me a fat bag of buds to take with me, and his dad
told me to try and hook him up a connection in Hickory. I promised I
would.
Kelly gave me sex for two straight days and was tempted to live
with us, but Mom wasn’t having it. She and her boyfriend had some
kind of falling out, and even his mom didn’t want us around anymore.
Kelly cried when we left and no one but me knew why; I cried, too.
We went back to Grandma’s.
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Chapter 19
Back in the neighborhood, I went wild. I raced to all my friends’

houses, especially Kathy’s. We did our usual, and I told her of my
“adventures”. She sympathized with me and got down to business.
My friends were glad to see me, especially since I had a lot of

pot. Mom knew I had some, but not as much as I really had. I had
acquired about a pound from my buddy and was aiming to sell some,
plus smoke as much as I could.
It wasn’t long before we moved into another crappy, upstairs

apartment. I don’t know if it was Mom’s choice, or just our luck, but
we always seemed to be moving into an upstairs apartment. This one
was a three-apartment house. Two apartments’ downstairs, one on
the right, one the left and it had stairs running up the inside middle of
the house to our apartment. You had to come through the front door,
past the two apartment doors downstairs, and go upstairs to get to
our door. Our apartment had two bedrooms. Mom gave me one, and
she “shared” one with May. May had to sleep on the sofa a lot. Mom
had LOTS of “company”. Sometimes I’d let May sleep in my room,
especially when there was more than one man around, sometimes
even when one man was around. It all depended on the vibe I got
from the men. I never trusted anyone around May. I was a very
protective brother, or so I thought.
I got back into school, rode the bus, and did my usual thing. I
met new people, but mostly stayed a loner. Being poor, feeling like an
outcast, and hating life as a hopeless kid to a trashy lifestyle and mom
was an everyday reality for me. Coming home was a Cracker Jack life
experience, too. I NEVER knew what to expect.
As it happened in the past, I met some more Outlaw bikers, not

as many, but a few. Mom had some kind of tattoo party going on, with
drinking, drugs, and sex everywhere. First thing I did was get May
and go to my room. My room was off-limits to everyone but Mom.
We’d stay there for hours while they partied all around us. I’d get us
up and off to school, as usual.
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When I got home, Mom only had one guy there. He was “going
to live with us, now”, Mom said, so I scoped him out and tried to see
why he'd want to be with Mom. He was the one doing the tattoos at
our kitchen table, so I was interested in him and his abilities. I could
draw, and I wouldn’t mind learning to do it on skin.
I went and got him some of my artwork. It was just some

scribbling sketches of Indians and animals. He showed me a bunch of
tattoo patterns and I knew I could draw all of them. He gave me a
couple of pictures and I took them to my room to try and copy. They
were a cinch. I was excited about tattooing and got him to show me
everything he knew. He laughed at me but showed me everything.
There was a kid who lived next door to us that got comfortable
enough to hang out with me. He liked to smoke pot but preferred to
drink beer. I’d steal a beer or two from Mom when I could. I showed
the kid my artwork and he said I could do a tattoo on him. He had
downed two beers. So, I knew he was tipsy, but I wasn’t wasting this
opportunity. Mom and her new beau were gone, so I got the tat gun
revved up and put a small pot leaf on his right calf. He winced a lot
but didn’t cry. Later on, he went home, limping.
The very next morning someone was banging on the door.

Mom got up to answer since she was sleeping on the sofa. It was the
kid’s parents, and they were pissed. The kid was crying because it
was obvious they beat his ass, and his leg was hurting as well. They
screamed about my having put a pot leaf on their “little boy”. Mom
was hung-over and not wanting to hear any of that whiny shit, so she
flat out told them that if they didn’t want their kid tattooed, to keep
his ass at home and away from us. She slammed the door in their
faces and crawled back on the sofa. Later on, she slapped me upside
the head and said to never tattoo any “kids” again, or she’d beat me to
death. Ha! I thought it was hilarious, myself.
The biker dude disappeared shortly after that, along with his
tattoo machine. I’d have to wait awhile until I could get my own. Until
then, I drew and scribbled and caused all sorts of Kaos.
Going to school was boring for me. I was still an A and B

student despite being a kid under duress most of the time. Mom got
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into some sort of insane alcohol usage, and we got beatings almost on
a daily basis; me more than May because I’d take the blame for her
“mistakes”. We could do nothing right in Mom’s eyes. Look at her
wrong, and she’d snatch us up by our hair and punch us in the face.
Say something slick, and she’d get out the belt and chase us (me,
mostly) all over the house, beating us until she got tired. She’d have
me go outside to cut “switches” for future beatings. I learned the
bigger ones weren’t as painful as the smaller, skinnier ones were.
They’d strip your ass, back, ribs and arms until you bled. The bigger,
thicker ones weren’t as bad. When she drank liquor was when we
had to be very careful around her. She’d get so drunk she’d pick a
fight with us just to have an excuse to beat us. Every day I got beat, I
got stronger and more immune to her assaults. Plus, I got angrier and
more hateful towards her. I resented every adult that I met, including
my family, because they all believed Mom was a “good mother”. I
hated everybody.
In school, I became a recluse. I didn’t pay attention much but

was never called upon for anything. I guess teachers knew something
was amiss and left me alone. I preferred to sit in the back of the
classroom, and in gym, I’d never dress in shorts or participate in any
activities. That stemmed from a day I tried out for basketball after
school.
I had asked Mom if I could go to try-outs and she said, “Hell no,
get your ass home!” I asked my teacher, Mrs. Abernathy, a nice lady, if
she would talk to Mom for me and she said she would. So, after
school, I got to go to the gym and began to try and play basketball
with the other boys. I must’ve been going at it for an hour, when I
looked up and saw Mom storming in. She was pissed. I walked up to
her and before I could say anything, she blasted me with a closed fist,
knocking me down. She then grabbed me by the hair and dragged me
out of the gym, kicking and screaming. NO ONE came to my aid. NO
ONE! Can’t say as I blame the coach—she was as big as him, but much
meaner.
At home, I was beaten, more, and told to never even think

about sports, to come home and take care of May. Her reasoning was,
“Who’d take care of May if she, (Mom), wasn’t home?” Well, I guess I
knew that answer.
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Mrs. Abernathy came over the next day. I was made to stay
home as a part of my punishment. Mom treated her like a busy-body
and told her to mind her own business “Or else”. I hated Mom more
than ever.
At Christmas, Mrs. Abernathy came by and gave May and me

some gifts. She gave me a brand-new basketball and a big floor model
foosball table that she said was her son’s who’d gone off to college.
May got a new doll and an easy bake oven with cake mixes. Mom took
all of it away from us as soon as Mrs. Abernathy left and sold it all to
get drunk on. My murderous thoughts had to occur at that young age.
Mom had a cat that just had kittens the month or so before
Christmas. She loved those kittens more than us; in that case, they
had to pay.
I came home from school to see the mama cat on my bed with a
couple of kittens. I chased them out of my room, kicking and tossing
them out.
The next day, the same thing; for some reason, the mama cat
loved the bedspread I had on my bed. It was a crochet type
bedspread that Grandma made for me. I hated them on my bed
because of the cat hair they left behind that would cling to me later
on. After chasing them out, I didn’t think any more about it until the
next day.
I came in my room after school to see the mama cat with two
kittens on my bed. Instead of chasing them out, I stopped in my
tracks and started thinking crazy thoughts. The mama cat looked at
me as if in anticipation of me coming at her to chase her out. She was
ready to flee. The kittens were oblivious to me. I started cooing at the
mama cat, “Good kitty cat, stay right there, don’t run, Tommy won’t
hurt you!!”, as I eased toward the bed. She was leery, but my
calmness and talking kept her there. I got on the bed and petted her
until she started purring. I reached over to the window, next to my
bed, and opened it up.
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My room was up two stories, directly below my window was

some concrete steps leading down to the basement. Let’s see if cats
do really land on their feet…every time.
I petted the mama cat some more, and then I snatched it up by

its hind legs in one hand and front legs in the other. I held the cat out
the window and looked down to see where it would land, directly on
the stairs. I let it go. It twisted and turned on its way down and, I’ll be
damned, it landed on its feet…but it wasn’t moving.
I raced downstairs to see what damage was done. The cat was
meowing softly, with its tail twitching from side to side. I picked it up
and seen blood pouring out its nose. I wiped off the blood and carried
the cat back upstairs. I petted it and spoke to it softly, but I could tell
this cat was hurting. Good! I got it to the bed and once again, I
snatched it up by its legs and held it out the window. Down it went,
but not with the fervor as before. This time it landed half on, half off
the stairs, but not on its feet, on its side. OUCH!
I ran down to see the damage and knew it was a goner. It was
limp and barely breathing. I picked it up and took it to the dumpster
behind the business next to our house and tossed it in. Now, let’s see
about those kittens.
When I came into to the bedroom, the two kittens were playing
on my bed still. I snatched one up and strangled it until it went limp.
The second one went out the window like its mother. It didn’t last but
one fall. I tossed the strangled cat out the window, too. I raced
outside to put their bodies in the dumpster, also. What a burial. Fuck
you, Mom.
Mom was passed out on the sofa the entire time. When she
awoke, she asked me if I left the front door open. I asked why, and
she said her cat and two of the kittens were missing. “No ma’am!” I
said. Mom made me go outside and look for her cat. Ha! No problem!
I walked around the house yelling, “Here kitty, kitty!” loud enough for
her to hear me. I was also praying the neighbors didn’t see the
episode with the cats. After a while, I went back inside and Mom
whined, bitched, and moaned about her missing cat and kittens. She
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got drunk, again, and lay on the sofa with the last three kittens and
sang Christian songs to them. Ha! Dumb bitch!
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Chapter 20
It got so bad; the beatings just got to the point of not affecting
me much. I was becoming immune to them, but they built my anger
into a deep-seeded hatred. I hated everything and everyone.
I got hold of a knife from the old man who lived downstairs. He
was an old codger who drank, dipped snuff, and always chased me
away by tossing chunks of wood at me whenever I came near his
porch. Sometimes, he’d be in a good, drunk mood and call me aside to
help him bring some wood inside his apartment for the fireplace. On
those days, he was cool to talk to. He’d tell me old stories of his past
and trash mouth his ungrateful children. He gave me an old Hawk-
Billed Barlow pocketknife and taught me how to throw it. There was
an old tree outside his apartment, and we’d toss knives at it until he
got ornery and went inside to sleep off his buzz. This knife tossing
business got me into lots of trouble.
One morning, I was coming into school and was fixing to turn a
corner when a black girl slammed into me. She had an armload of
books that she dropped right on top of my feet. I jumped back and
hollered, “you dumb bitch, watch where the fuck you’re going!”, and
kicked her books all across the hall. I was pissed off, but more, sore
than anything. Those books were hard back and heavy. They hit my
poor toes, hard.
Later that day, I was in gym class, and we were all outside on
the recreation field. I, not participating, decided to go way out in the
field and take a couple of tokes off a joint I had. With my back to the
student’s activities, I never saw what hit me until they were running
away. Three black girls crept up on me and began to pound my
stoned ass. All I could do was ball up and hang on as feet were kicking
me and fists were pummeling me. They didn’t hurt me as much as it
surprised me. Being stoned, I guess it got me into a “protect yourself”
mode.
When they stopped and ran away I got a good look at them. I
then, got up, dusted myself off and went home. “Fuck school!” I
thought.
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When I walked in, Mom asked me why I was home early and
why was I all red around the face. I explained to her my situation, and
she got pissed off. She told me I had better go to school the next day
and “set things right”. With that in mind, I went to my room and
thought about what I was going to do.
When I walked into school the next morning, I went in search

of the black girls. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do
physically, but I sure as hell wanted to scare the living daylights out
of them. That’s why I had my very sharp and trusty Barlow knife with
me.
I came upon the girl who dropped her books on my feet,

standing by her open locker. I said, “Hey bitch! Remember me?” She
saw me with my knife and took off running down the hall. I didn’t
think, I just threw it at her and like a thousand times before and the
blade hit home, right into her right thigh. She hit the ground and
started screaming bloody murder. I ran up to her in a panic because
everybody was running everywhere, screaming their heads off. I
grabbed the knife handle and pulled it out. Then I ran for dear life
itself. I made it home in record time.
I burst in the apartment door and Mom was sitting there on the
sofa, smoking a cigarette. I told her I set things right, and Mom asked
me what I did. When I told Mom, I stabbed the black girl, Mom
became unglued. She stood up, slugged me in the face and demanded
my knife. I gave the knife to her, and she ran out of the apartment.
When she came back in she began to beat me in earnest. I was
confused the whole time she was whooping me. I thought I did what
she wanted me to do. Now, I was getting beat for it. UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!
It wasn’t long before the cops came. They sat me down in the
living room and asked me what happened, and I gave them the story,
minus Mom telling me, “To set things right”, or where the knife was.
Mom “schooled” me on what to say before the cops showed up. Why I
didn’t say the truth about Mom was beyond me, but I guess I knew
that the freedom I had to roam would disappear and I didn’t want
that.
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I didn’t want May or I to be taken from Mom because I was

afraid of the unknown of where, and to whom, we would go. I
reasoned that mom would just lie and say I was a constant bad kid
and that they could do whatever they wanted with me, and Uncle
Jake’s threat of the boy’s home was still fresh in my mind. I didn’t
want any of that. I could take more beatings to be able to be with my
sister. Besides, I was more worried of not being there for her than I
was for myself at this point in my life, anyway. I’m ten years old and
May was seven. I could take care of Tommy Kaos. She couldn’t take
care of herself.
So, the cops reprimanded me, took me to the station and locked
me up to show me my “future” if I’m not smarter, and fingerprinted
me. The girl’s parents were pissed, as was their right, but refused to
press any charges. It seems the principal and some other teachers
came forward with my grades and some understanding to dissuade
any criminal charges against me, but I was expelled for the rest of the
year. I got one-year probation and sent to an alternate school for
riffraff like me, all with the exception that I made straight A’s and B’s.
Alternate school kids didn’t. I ended up liking the school but played
hooky at least twice a week. I skipped school to go find bicycles to
steal and sell for pot money. Besides, I needed a new knife.
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Chapter 21
Around this time, winter was closing in on us. I hate cold

weather. It’s no fun going outside just to freeze, especially on the
edge of the Appalachian Mountains. I never got used to it and
probably never will.
Mom met a guy named Ricky. I met him as I awoke one

morning, as I have met many of Mom’s past and future men. I’d wake
up and go into the living room and wait to see who came out of
Mom’s room with her. Anyway, I awoke to find Ricky, Mom, and May
in the living room, eating ice cream, and watching nature films. Ricky
was a thief and had broken into a local elementary school and stole a
whole bunch of useless stuff. He had our little refrigerator packed
with boxes of ice cream: push-ups, small cups of various ice cream
flavors with the wooden spoons,fudgesicles, and brown mules. There
was a film projector in our living room, showing nature stuff on our
living room wall. It was a sight to see having just woke up.
Mom introduced me to him, and I could tell I was going to like

him. He was smoking a joint and passed it to me. My buddy!
He gave me a bunch of stuff he stole from various places: a

watch, a tape recorder, a new knife that I was told to keep hidden
from Mom, and other stuff. He was a bit younger than Mom, too, so I
guess he was an older version of me; that’s why I liked him. What he
saw in Mom, I had no idea. I guess sex and a place to live was all he
needed.
One day, it had started snowing badly, and he asked me if I had

two bicycles we could use. I said, “Yes”, of course, mine and May’s. I
had stolen the other one a long time ago. He told me to get dressed
for the cold, and we took off in a snowstorm: he on one bike, and me
on May’s lil’ pink Huffy. We must’ve been a sight to see, sliding all
over the road. We rode for a long time, heading for Mountain View,
my old stomping grounds. There was a highway that ran straight to it,
and we were on it. We probably shouldn’t have been on the highway,
but it was easier to get to where we were going.
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After a ride of about an hour, I was frozen solid. My bare hands

and face were hurting, my Converse tennis shoes were drenched and
freezing, and my toes were screaming. We pedaled and pedaled until
we came to a turnoff, and Ricky led me down to some woods. We
walked the bikes down into the woods a little distance and hid them
next to a fallen tree. We walked on until we came out behind
someone’s house. Ricky made me hide in the woods just out of sight
of the house until he called for me to come inside. He left me and
went around the side of the house. I didn’t have to wait long before
he called for me.
When I came out of the woods, he was standing inside the

house at the back door. I went in and was instantly warmed. The
place was almost too warm, after being in minus thirty-degree
weather of rain, sleet, and snow for over an hour in ratty clothes. He
led me to a bedroom and told me to take whatever clothes I needed,
and he gave me a huge army duffle bag and said to fill it with
whatever I wanted. That was my cue.
I dug through the closet and could tell it was the master
bedroom. Big shoes, boots and lady’s footwear was inside. I chose a
pair of big cowboy boots and stuffed my wet tennis shoes and all, into
them. Then I grabbed a big army jacket, the kind with lots of pockets
and very heavy to wear. I found some sweatpants and put them over
my wet pants.
I then went through the hallway to the only place that mattered
to a kid like me: the kitchen. I was starving. I opened the fridge and
started putting all kinds of stuff in the duffle bag. Frozen meats,
veggies, pasta, and other items I’d enjoy later. Ricky came to see what
I was up to and laughed at me. He said we were supposed to be
stealing stuff to sell, and then we could buy our own food. That didn’t
make much sense to me at the time; here was lots of food, why not
take it? I cleaned out some cabinets for more food while he hit the
safe and some jewelry boxes. When we were done, we left out the
back door and went back into the woods.
Once we got to the woods, we got lost. It was constantly

snowing, and we couldn’t find any of the tracks we had left behind.
We split up and went in search of the bikes. Carrying this army bag
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full of food was a pain in the ass, too. I didn’t know what I was
thinking. It wasn’t long before I stumbled onto the bikes. I saw the
snow-covered handlebar of the pink Huffy and called out to Ricky.
We got the bikes out and had to unfreeze them. They were
frozen solid in some places. We got them to the road, balanced our
loot, and took off the way we came. It seemed longer to get back than
it did to come.
When we got home, I was tuckered out, but not too tired to
cook. I took my merchandise to the kitchen, loaded up the fridge, and
began cooking a feast for us to eat. Ricky went through his swag and
then went to get some alcohol for him and Mom. That was an
adventure I didn’t want to do again, at least not in the snow.
After a few days had passed, I had come home to find Mom
upset and Ricky gone. Some of the stolen merchandise was gone too:
the film projector, my tape player, and also my bicycle. I asked Mom
what happened, and she said the police were there looking for Ricky
for some B and E’s (breaking and entering). They saw the film
projector and asked Mom if they could search for more, she let them.
Since my bike was stolen, they took it, too. May’s bike got spared. So
did a few other things, but nothing worth discussing.
Mom asked me if I knew where Ricky was “camping out”. She

said Ricky told her that if the cops ever came looking for him, that
he’d go to our, mine and his, camping spot to lay low. I told Mom, yes,
I knew exactly where it was, and she told me to let him know that the
cops left and took some of the stuff. Also, that they had warrants for
his arrest. Then, I got on May’s bike and took off for the lake.
When I got to the lake I had to push my bike down the trail. It
took me about thirty minutes to find the spot, but Ricky was there
alright. He had a tent put up and a fire going. He was surprised to see
me, but glad I came with some news. He said he figured the law
would come to our house because his sister had warned him that the
cops were by her house looking for him. He thinks his sister told the
cops of his staying at our house. So, that morning, he packed up and
came to the camping spot that he and I fished at one weekend.
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It was a good place to hide out, too, very secluded, with no

houses nearby. Since it was winter, there wasn’t any boat to be seen
either.
We got to talking about his possible future and what he might

have to do when all of a sudden, the woods got active with police and
guns being drawn from all around us. Mom had set me up as a
homing pigeon. At that moment, it didn’t dawn on me, but as soon as
we were on the ground and handcuffed, Ricky said I had set him up. I
pleaded to him that it wasn’t me, it was Mom. One of the plain clothes
cops came up to us and admitted to him that Mom had me come to
him so they could follow me. She got two-hundred dollars for her
troubles. I was one mad little boy who hated his mother even more.
They ended up taking the cuffs off me and letting me go. They
offered me a ride home, but I was too pissed off and my distrust of
cops was just beginning to form. I rode home and told Mom she was a
bitch for setting me and Ricky up. She beat my ass, but I couldn’t help
but laugh at her the whole time. She banned me to my room, and I
was okay with that. That night she went out and didn’t come home
for two days. When she did, she was broke, not a penny to her name.
Stay broke, bitch. That’s what I thought of her…Rat Bitch!
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Chapter 22
As time passed, I went about my daily routines of skipping

school here, and there, at the alternate school and stealing things. I
had myself a new bicycle soon after the cops took my old one, so I
had transportation to search the neighborhoods. Some things I’d steal
I couldn’t do much with, so I got Mom to sell them for me and she’d
give me a few dollars of the proceeds, but mainly she kept most of it
to drink on.
There were times when I’d get some revenge on her big ass for
setting me and Ricky up. She enjoyed May and me as her slaves. It
was always, “Tommy gets me a beer!” or “Tommy fix us dinner!”
Those were times I’d have some fun at her expense.
Every time I got her a beer, I’d open it, take a big swig, and then
piss in it. Ha! I’d bring it to her with a big smile on my face and say,
“Here you go, Mom!” She’d take the can, or bottle, and pour it into her
glass, and drink my piss, every time. Very rarely, after that started,
did I ever miss the opportunity to piss in her beer.
The Army-Navy store sold all kinds of gag/joke items. I bought

some cigarette-loads and I’d fill Mom’s cigarettes, so they’d explode
about halfway done. She never, ever figured it out. She just thought
the cheap cigarettes had some kind of wood or something in it that
would catch on fire. It was hilarious to see her drunk, drinking piss,
smoking a cigarette, and then watch it burst into flames right in her
face. She’d gasp and throw the cigarette across the room. May and I
would laugh so hard, we’d cry. Mom would laugh too, but she never
caught on.
She still tried to use threats of beatings to get us, especially me,
to do what she asked us to do; like clean the house, fix meals, or go on
errands. I was almost to the point of not even being worried about
beatings. Punches to the face, no problem; hit by the belt, no problem;
hit with switches, no biggie; hit me with whatever she hit me with, I
didn’t care. I only cared about what she hit May with. I would literally
take a belt or switch out of her hand when she got too rough with
May. Sometimes I would take May’s punishment for whatever
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dumbass thing Mom would imagine May did to deserve a whooping. I

saw opportunities in the beatings to piss Mom off and frustrate her.
I’d laugh at her. She’d get so hot she’d cry sometimes. Imagine
this; she’s beating my ass and legs with a belt. I’m supposed to be
bawling like a lil’ bitch, but instead I’m laughing like a maniac. Maybe
I was insane, but it helped me push the pain aside to know I was
affecting Mom in a negative way. She deserved it, I believed.
A new neighbor moved into the apartment on the other side of

the old man who lived downstairs. She was a good-looking woman
with no kids, no boyfriend, and not too many friends. When I saw her
moving her stuff in, I helped her carry boxes inside her apartment. By
the way, I was ogling her, and I could tell she knew I was checking her
out, but by being a ten-year-old kid, in her eyes, I was nothing more
than a child. That didn’t stop me from ogling her.
Every chance I got I’d try to see her. I’d go by her windows and
peek in or look out my bedroom window to watch her come and go.
One day, while sitting on the stairs going down to the front door, I
noticed a small circle where a piece of wood was lodged in the wall
facing her apartment. I picked at the circle of wood until it finally
gave way and, God bless my horny soul, I was looking into her
bathroom. I sat there on those steps for days, masturbating while
watching her undress, bathe and do all sorts of stuff in that bathroom.
I never knew if she knew I was there, but I kept that little circle of
wood in place until I was ready to go peeking again. She didn’t live
there but for a month. It was short-lived, but I sure did enjoy her
views.
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Chapter 23
The old man who lived in the other apartment was a mess. He
drank, dipped powder snuff, and hated kids. He cussed in May and me
every time he saw us. What was nuts about him was sometimes he’d
be the nicest person in the world, and he’d get me to help him unload
his pickup truck of wood. He’d give me a couple of dollars and tell me
not to let Mom know I had the money. He’d give me and May
homemade cookies, that his family gave him, and tell us old stories.
But most of the time he’d swear we were nothing but trouble and
toss wood at us. Sometimes I’d yell out obscenities at him to get him
riled up.
He had a grandson who’d come over and he’d go bike riding

with me. His name was Davey, and his grandpa would yell at him, too.
Davey knew his grandpa was nuts, so he’d have fun talking smack
with me. Anything to get the old man pissed off and chucking wood
was worth the fun.
Davey didn’t live far from me, so he’d come over whenever his
mom would let him. Under the guise of “helping Grandpa” was his
way of hanging out with me. We’d ride bikes and roam
neighborhoods in search of stuff to steal or see what kind of mischief
we could get into. Mostly, we’d go to the lake and fish. That was a fun
past time for us.
As springtime started coming, Davey and I got together and

went to the lake. We had a good fishing spot picked out where we’d
catch bass, brim, and catfish all the time. On this particular day, the
sun was out in full force, bright, sunny, and warm. We got to the trail
leading to our spot, hid our bikes in the woods, and went down the
trail. It runs right along the water, with brush and tree roots all
across it. I was barefoot, as was my norm on warm days; I felt the
ground with my feet. As we were walking along, with me in the lead, I
stepped on something softer than a root and looked down to see
what it was. It was a huge water moccasin lying across the trail. Its
lower half was on the trail, while its upper half was in the water
resting on a tree branch. I caught a quick glimpse of its head, turning
in my direction, when I was hauling ass up the embankment to my
left. It was a steep climb, but I got up into the bushes and trees very
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quickly. All the while I’m yelling, “Snake, Snake, Snake!” to Davey. He
climbed up, too. We watched the snake as it continued to just lay
there, so I figured it was either still in a bit of winter slumber, or it
was just tired, because it didn’t move as much when I stepped on it.
We talked about what to do about it and came up with a great idea.
First, we had to kill it.
We searched around for some big rocks and a good stick. Once
we had our weapons, we attacked. We began piling rocks onto the
half of the snake that was on the trail. The snake got pissed off really
fast and began thrashing around. I kept antagonizing it while Davey
kept piling up the rocks onto its body. It kept hissing and snapping at
me until I lined up the perfect shot. I jammed the stick point into its
mouth and rammed its head into the dirt, while twisting the stick
around and around. It didn’t take much to tear its head off, but its
body kept thrashing. We waited until it calmed, somewhat, then
removed the rocks and picked up the body. The snake was at least six
feet long and as thick as my arm. Davey got the body, and I carried
the head on the end of the stick. We took it to our fishing spot to see
what we had.
Our spot had a big, flat rock that protruded into the water; it’s
the same spot where my grandpa used to take me. When we got to it,
we examined the snakes head and body; we noticed lumps in various
places on its body. I decided to see what the snake had eaten, so I
began at the tail and started pushing the lumps upward toward the
hole that once held the head. To our surprise, a ball of baby snakes
came slithering out, then another, and yet another, whole clumps of
little baby snakes. A couple of them moved, so we stepped back and
started stomping them with our feet. Which probably wasn’t the
brightest move to make, since I wasn’t wearing shoes, but we were
surprised at our find. Once no more babies were moving, we put
them in a pile and tried to figure out just what to do with them.
Davey went in search of a bag of some sorts so we could tote

the big snake home. We had a great plan for it, later. I took one of the
baby snakes and put it on a hook to fish with, just to see if I could
catch anything. After a few casts, I landed a largemouth bass. I
couldn’t believe my luck. Usually, we only caught striped bass, and
small ones at that, with worms. But to catch this largemouth bass,
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that was something to me. I began fishing in earnest with baby

snakes then.
Davey found an old bread bag and stuffed the big snake into it
along with the head. Then he began casting for bass, too. When it was
almost getting dark, we had two stringers full of bass; at least fifteen
fat ones and a couple of scrawny striped bass. We forgot all about our
worms and went ahead and dumped them into the lake as part of an
offering of our thanks to the fish God. We loaded up our bounty and
headed for home.
At my house, we cleaned the fish, divided it up, and talked

about our plans for the next day. Hopefully, we’d get a good laugh
with something to tell people about. Little did we know…
Davey slept at his grandpa’s, and we decided to meet up the

next morning. Our idea was simple, we’d put the snake’s body in a
coiled position in front of his grandpa’s door with the snake’s head in
the middle, mouth open. We’d knock on the door and hide in the
bushes to see his reaction. Well, we set it all up, and I knocked and
ran to my hiding spot. The old man opened the door, saw the snake,
and screamed. He then fell flat on his back and had a massive heart
attack. At first, we thought he was joking, but then I saw his foot
twitch once or twice, and I knew he was in trouble. I ran up to the
porch and sure enough, he was turning blue. I told Davey to call 911
while I hid the snake in the bushes. I didn’t know what to do for the
old man, so I just stayed there and looked at him, telling him, “Sorry,
old man!”, “I’m sorry!”, “Don’t die on us!”
The ambulance got there and saved him from dying. They got
him to the hospital just in time. We felt really bad at what we caused,
but once we knew he was okay, we couldn’t help but laugh. The look
of shock on his face, and that scream that he screeched was priceless.
When the old man came to and told his side of the story, he said
that it was “the damnedest thing.” He said the snake knocked on the
door and was all coiled up and ready to bite, when he felt his chest
lock up, and he passed out. Ha! When he got out of the hospital, he
had his tale into a full-grown story. He told me and Davey that Satan
himself knocked on his door in the form of a giant snake. When he
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opened the door, and saw that snake’s mouth wide open, he knew he
was going to hell for his sins. Davey and I laughed for days, but we
never tormented anyone like that again. The old man stayed ornery
and still threw chunks of wood at us, but we’d hiss at him and scream,
“Snake!” to chase him back into his apartment.
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Chapter 24
Living with Mom just got worse and worse. She kept drinking,
bringing men home, beating us constantly for imagined reasons, and
just got plain crazy at times. She brought home all sorts of men and
women like they were stray pets or something.
One day, she brought a psycho woman that she met during a
stay at the psych ward at the local hospital during detox. This woman
was always half naked, (I never minded that part), and babbling
about Elvis being her kid’s father. She let me bathe with her one day
when Mom was gone. I got my little rocks off, but the experience was
insane to behold. She licked me from my head to my toes before she’d
let me fuck her. Crazy lady!
Another time, Mom came home with a Mexican. This guy

couldn’t have been five feet tall and didn’t speak a lick of English.
Mom kept talking to him in Portuguese, and he understood her. I
thought they were both fruity in the head. I had heard Mom speak
Portuguese before, but I never believed it was a real language. I
thought she just made up some crazy babble to mess with my head.
Hearing her and this Mexican talk back and forth, I thought she done
found some other nutcase who understood psychobabble too. If I’d
have known it was a real language, I’d have tried to learn it, but Mom
only used it towards me or May when she was drunk. Telling me to
“kiss her ass” or “fuck you” in Portuguese all of the time. I didn’t
know! At least the Mexican understood money. He gave me some for
May and me to get out of sight for a while.
Another time, Mom brought me a present: a sixteen-year-old

girl who just had a baby. Her name was Maria. She had huge tits and a
very pretty face. Her baby was only weeks old, and Maria, apparently,
didn’t know who the father was. She was at some bar when Mom
came upon her and brought her home. Although Mom brought home
stray people, she still had an agenda. Money!
When I saw Maria, I went rock hard. I had to have her. Mom
knew me well enough to know I was smitten by Maria, but she had no
idea at the knowledge I had about sex. She thought I was a virgin and
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told Maria so. Maria thought I was cute and kept teasing me, but she
had no idea, either. Mom told me that Maria was going to stay with us
for a few weeks, and that she’d sleep in my room with her baby. I was
pissed off, until Maria said I could sleep with her, still teasing me.
Maria said she didn’t care, thinking I’d back down, but I didn’t. I
agreed to let Maria sleep in my bed, as long as I slept with her. These
two women, Mom and Maria still thought I was just being “cute”. Ha!
That evening Maria made a bed in one of dresser drawers in

my room for her baby. I climbed into my bed awaiting her to get in.
She looked at me and asked me if I was seriously going to sleep in the
same bed as her, and I asked her if she was afraid of a ten-year-old
boy. She laughed at me and climbed in beside me. She could see I
wasn’t shy at all, and she started teasing me, playing with my hair,
and looking at my face, and asking me questions about sex. I let her
know I wasn’t a virgin, and she began her magic on me. We had sex
twice that night, and I missed school the next day.
When I emerged from my room it was around noon and Mom

was grinning at me. She thought she was, “in the know” of a joke that
her and Maria had, about Maria having sex with me, but I didn’t say a
word. I grinned like I was supposed to and began a three-week sex-
fest with Maria.
It all ended when I came home from school early one day. Mom
was sitting in the living room, and there was no sign of Maria. I asked
Mom where she was and she said she had to go out for something,
and she’d be back later on. Mom told me to get my ass back to school
or go outside and play. I thought that was weird but didn’t pay
attention. I was planning on getting my bike and going out stealing,
anyway. I went to my room to get something when I heard a noise in
Mom’s room. Being suspicious already of Maria’s whereabouts, I
crept to the door and put my ear to it. Someone was having sex in
Mom’s room. I opened the door just an inch, or two and saw a man’s
ass going at it…. with Maria! I slammed the door shut and stomped
into the living room, yelling at Mom that Maria had better be gone
when I get home, or I’d kill someone. Whether she believed me or not,
I left the house. I got on my bike and rode around, pissed off, hurt,
and mad at the world. I really liked Maria and had some crazy
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fantasy of her living with us forever, being my girlfriend. But….it

wasn’t to be.
I got home around dark and found out that Maria did leave.
Mom told her what I said, and Maria did believe me, I guess. She gave
Mom money from her prostituting and left with the guy she was
fucking in Mom’s room. Mom shoved the needle in by telling me
Maria was prostituting every day she was there, just not in front of
May and me. That just added to the already weighted hatred I had for
Mom. I told her to go to hell and went to my room. Everything about
Maria was gone so I was alone to sulk in my loneliness and despair.
Things changed for me, somewhat, after that. Mom kept her
distance from me, but when she was drinking, she’d try to take her
frustrations out on May and I’d step in to take whatever she could
dish out. She was a very mean drunk, brutal at times, but I could take
it. A busted eye or a split lip was nothing to me. More fuel for my
hatred.
One day, after school, I walked in the door to find Mom

slobbering drunk, sitting in a chair, and some biker sitting on the sofa
with May on his lap. I didn’t think that was appropriate at all and told
May to get off the guy’s lap. Mom babbled something, but I paid her
no attention. The guy, also slobbering drunk, put his hand on May’s
thigh and another around her waist to keep her on his lap. He
wouldn’t let her up. I snapped. I grabbed a ball bat we kept by the
door and swung it right into the dude’s forehead. CRACK! His eyes
rolled back, and his forehead instantly swelled up and turned purple.
May jumped up and got away from him as he leaned over onto his
side, unconscious. Mom tried to stand up and I conked her in the
forehead with the little round-handled end of the bat. She went limp
and slid right out of the chair and onto the floor in a heap.
I got May to go gather up some of her clothes to put in a bag,

and I did the same. We then got on our bikes and rode across town to
Grandma’s house. When I told Grandma what happened, she told
Uncle Rob to go and check on Mom. She then told me I shouldn’t have
hit Mom. I pleaded that all Mom does is beat us and mistreat us, but
Grandma wasn’t hearing any of it. We were lying on Mom, she says.
UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!
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Uncle Rob came back and said that Mom called an ambulance
to come and get the guy I had knocked out because he wouldn’t gain
consciousness. Mom had a big goose-egg on her forehead, but she’d
live. Mom told Uncle Rob that I had better not come home, or she’d
kill me, but she wanted May home the very next day. I pleaded with
Uncle Rob and Grandma to not let May go without me, but, once
again, I was told to shut up and mind my manners. I hated this whole
family.
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Chapter 25
I went back to my normal activities at Grandma’s house. I

touched base with all the women in my life, especially Kathy. Summer
was approaching, so I skipped most of what was left of school. I didn’t
care about it anyway. I’d escort my cousin Dan to school, then haul
ass to scope out some garages for stuff to steal. I’d sell whatever I got
to a local guy’s dad for money to buy pot. Sometimes I’d get Kathy to
go out and help me buy clothes for me and May. Whatever I could do,
I’d do it. Mom had May on a leash, figuratively speaking, and wouldn’t
let her out of her sight around me. I guess she thought I’d run away
with the only slave she had left. At least she’d let me give May clothes.
At Grandma’s, I started cutting grass for the neighbors. A

mechanic, who lived across from Grandma, would actually pay me to
ride his riding mower to cut the field next to his house. I figured if I
could cut lots of yards, I’d make lots of money, which equals lots of
pot. Well, with Grandma’s little push mower and a one-gallon gas can
I went to work.
I had numerous yards up and down Grandma’s Street. I’d

charge fifteen dollars a yard, but I busted my butt that summer. I cut
grass all day, smoked pot all day, and slept all night. Grandma thought
I was lying about cutting grass, so she had her “mama’s boy”, Rob, go
up and down the street asking the neighbors if I actually cut grass for
them. Ha! I wasn’t to be trusted since I constantly “lied” about Mom’s
abuse. Yeah right!
Things got heated at Grandma’s one day, due to Uncle Rob

telling Grandma I was smoking pot in her house. I claimed he was
lying and, of course, she believed him over me. Truth was, I never
smoked inside Grandma’s house. I smoked out back, or at Kathy’s.
Never inside. Also, he was crying about how much money I gave her. I
gave her up to twenty dollars a day when I’d mow yards. He told her
I spent all my money on pot. Grandma told me I had to go back to
Mom’s. I was pissed, but what could I do? I was ten years old. I had to
follow her orders or go with the ever-present threat of a boy’s home.
So, I went back to Moms.
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Chapter 26
It wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t heaven either. Mom treated me

like an enemy and used her power of being in charge over me like a
slave driver. Do this, do that, “shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch!”
HA! I’d laugh at that because she was calling herself a bitch. “You are
that!” I’d think with a grin.
It was good to be around May again, but there were times I’d
have to get away and go riding my trusty, stolen bicycle.
When school started back up, I met some cool guys to hang out
with. A kid, named Eric, “The Fly,” had bifocal glasses and was very
tall for his age. I nicknamed him “The Fly” because of his build and his
big glasses made his eyes look huge. Then there was Black Bobby. He
was as black as the ace of spades but was the kind of black kid who
didn’t fit in with other blacks. He liked white music and smoking pot.
He became our punching bag. Next was A.C.; he was a bigger pothead
than I thought I was. He drank, too. He was older than us and thought
he’d lead the group, but he turned out too dumb to think coherently,
so I became our “leader”. We also met an Asian kid named Tad Kim.
We nicknamed him “Tokyo” just because he hated his real name.
After school, we’d go bike riding in search of something to do.
We were the adventurous kind of clique, always looking for

something to get into. One night, we were riding around and saw a
ladder leading up to the city water tower hanging down. We decided
to climb it. First, we went and got some cans of spray paint and
gallons of house paint that The Fly’s mom stashed in her shed. We
grabbed some paint brushes, too. I led the way up the ladder. The Fly
was next, then Black Bobby, and up last was Tokyo. It was pure hell
climbing all the way up that ladder to the catwalk with a gallon of
paint in one hand. I don’t know how we did it, but we all made it.
When Tokyo got up on the catwalk and put his back against the
tower, he froze. His eyes got big, and his breathing increased. He was
terrified. We laughed at him and began running around the catwalk
choosing our spots to paint. We defaced the tower with a giant “fuck
you” and “eat shit” and all sorts of stupid stuff. Poor Tokyo stayed
glued to the side of the tower right by the ladder. He was yelling for
us to come help him get down, and we just laughed even harder.
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When we got done with all of the paint, we began our descent
down the ladder. I tried and tried to coax Tokyo to come down with
me, but he was too terrified. He wouldn’t even budge from his place
against the tower. I told him I’d have to call the fire department if he
didn’t come down and he told me to do it. I explained to him that the
police would get involved and he’d better not tell on us. He promised
that he wouldn’t.
We got down and ran to a pay phone, laughing all the way. To
us, it was hilarious that Tokyo got scared. Inside, I felt sorry for him. I
was a little scared too, but once I got up there, I lost my fear. Besides,
I had to show some sort of courage if these misfits were going to
follow me, right?!
Anyway, I called 911 and told the operator that an Asian kid
was stuck on the catwalk of the city water tower. When she asked my
name, I hung up. We raced to a building that had a good place for us
to see the tower, especially the ladder. We could see Tokyo up there,
and he was screaming for help! Ha! It wasn’t long before we saw
emergency lights coming to the scene. We stayed hidden and watched
the whole spectacle.
The fire department, police, and ambulance personnel showed

up. They put a spotlight on Tokyo, and you couldn’t help but to laugh.
He had a huge, “FUCK YOU” painted next to his head, still wet! We
were rolling with laughter.
After a good thirty minutes, they got him down. We knew we

had to get lost because they’d figure out he wasn’t the only one to do
the graffiti, so we all pedaled for home.
The next day at school, Tokyo showed up embarrassed. He said

the cops took him home and told his parents. They grounded him for
a month and told the police to give him lots of community service for
his admittance to painting the tower. He refused to say if he had any
help, so we were in the clear. His parents already knew we were his
friends, so they banned him from ever hanging out with us. He still
did, he just had to do it discreetly. We had lots of laughs at him about
it. We’d yell “HELP” like little girls whenever he got around us, but we
really liked Tokyo because A) he didn’t snitch on us, and B) he was
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the only kid whose parents gave him money every day. He was an
only child, so they loved him and protected him, and gave him what
he wanted most of the time.
After school, we’d all get together and decide what we were
going to do that evening. My idea was to find a business and try to
break into it to search for money, or something to sell, to help us buy
weed. If Tokyo had enough money to buy a dime bag of weed, we’d
just go get one and go to the local Kiwanis Park and smoke out. When
we went in search of businesses, we usually chose furniture factories.
My hometown of Hickory had the most furniture factories of

any town in North Carolina. It also had a lot of cotton mills. We had a
huge choice of buildings we could easily break into..
We’d usually just hit a factory and go into the main office,
looking for cash boxes in the desks, or wherever they might put them.
Lots of times, we’d hit the break rooms and cafeterias. We’d eat up
some food, trash the place, and steal whatever would give us a few
dollars from our fence or the dope dealer.
We’d divide the money and pot, smoke out, and then head
home.
Every evening, Mom would be waiting on me. That is,

whenever she was home or not passed out drunk. She knew I was up
to no good and her always-the-same-question was, “how much
money do you got?” If I had any money left over from a B & E, I’d give
her half of it just to get her to leave the house. With her gone, I knew
May and I would have some peace for a while. On nights when I didn’t
have any money, it was slave night for her. “Do this” or “Do that! “You
could really tell she hated having kids tie her down. She resented us
even when we gave her money. No biggie to me, I hated her too.
One day, she surprised me when I got home by telling me “Pack

up, we’re moving again.” I was pissed, but what could I do? I packed
up and helped load everything into a truck; Mom suckered some poor
guy into helping us with moving. We moved clear across town away
from my friends and school. I was pissed. She snuck away from the
apartment because she was a month behind and didn’t want to pay
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the rent. This new apartment was just as ratty and run-down and it
too, was an upstairs climb. What was it with her and these upstairs
apartments?
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Chapter 27
At my new school, on my first day, I met my new best friend.

Mom took me to the principal’s office and got me enrolled. They laid
out their rules for me and said if I had any slips they’d not hesitate to
send me back to the alternate school. Not really caring, I said, “yes
sir”, and went to find my class.
As I walked into the mall area of the school, I saw a fight in

progress. A chubby, red-headed boy was being pushed around by
three or four black boys. I didn’t like that at all, and I started right
towards them as the redhead began swinging his fists at them. They
began to pummel him with punches and kicks. I ran into the fray with
my own punches and kicks. In no time, they were scattered away
from us because we began to hurt them. I aimed for their faces, and I
hurt a couple of them. They didn’t want any more from us. When a
couple of teachers came to see what the excitement was about, me
and the redhead had already turned the corner and were headed
down the hallway.
He told me his name was Junior, but everyone called him “Red”.
I introduced myself as Tommy. I told him where I lived, and he said
he was only a few blocks away, so we decided to meet up after school.
He thanked me for helping him and I said, “Not a problem”.
After school we walked home together, and I told him of all my

extracurricular activities. He was stunned at what I told him, but he
basically thought it was funny as hell. I explained my home life and he
told me of his. We both turned eleven years old and wanted to
explore neighborhoods. I told him to get himself a bicycle and I’d
show him lots of places to ride and have fun.
We went to my house first to let Mom know I was home from

school and to show Red just what I was talking about. Mom wasn’t
drinking, but she was in her usual mood of being a bitch. She said
hello to Red and told me not to tattoo him. Ha! I had to tell Red what
she meant. He said he didn’t want any tattoos because he was so
covered in freckles and his mom would kill him, anyway. I told Mom I
was going to meet Red’s parents since they only lived a couple of
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blocks away, and she told me to be home by dark; she might be going
out tonight and I’d have to watch May. Same old, same old!
Red really did only live a few blocks away. His house was kind
of run down, but it was his home, and I was jealous. He had a front
yard and a back yard, a Husky dog with a doghouse, and a Bassett
hound that lived indoors. The house had three bedrooms with one
bath. He and his brother, Mike, shared a room. His sister, Susan, had
her own room. Mike was a year younger than Red, and Susan was a
year younger than Mike. They all looked alike, except for Red. Red
had orange-red hair and he was built like a compact bulldog. His
family was skin and bones, including his mom and dad. So were Mike
and Susan. Susan was sort of pretty in a fat-bottomed, freckled,
turned-up-nose kind of way, but Red saw how I was looking at her,
and her at me, and told me, “Hands off”. I said, “No problem, bro”!
His mom was very nice to me. She was very questioning of me
and when I mentioned my mom’s name, she asked me if my
grandma’s name was Amelia. I said, “Yes” and she said she used to
work with her at the local dry cleaners. She said she knew of my
family, and when I told her about my mom and her drinking, she said
she knew about that, too. Grandma apparently whined about her a
lot. She told me if I needed anything at all, not to be afraid and ask. I
promised I would.
His dad was a mess. He sat on a footstool right next to the T.V.
slumped over and eyeballing the screen. He had suffered a stroke a
year or two before and was really messed up. He couldn’t talk a
normal conversation but just mumbled and slobbered. Somehow,
they knew what he was always saying, but I never could understand
what he said. Red didn’t look like him at all. I teased Red and told him
his mom screwed the mailman. He laughed at me, but I could tell it
bothered him. I never said it to him again.
Red told his mom he wanted a bicycle so he could ride around

with me, and she said she would buy him one that Friday. I told him
that he and I could go steal him one, but he didn’t want his mom to
know he might steal, so he asked her to buy one. He said she’d buy
him anything he wanted. So be it.
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They were far from rich people. His mom was the only one that
worked. His dad received a monthly check for his disability. His mom
worked at a furniture mill as a foreman on the day shift. But Red,
being the first child, was her “Pet”, so he got what he wanted.
Like she said, she bought him a brand-new ten-speed bicycle

on Friday. It was waiting for him when he came home from school. He
came to my house, and we took off for parts known and unknown.
All winter long we rode all over Hickory and stole everything
that wasn’t tied down. Red got excitement out of hanging with me
and stealing. He kept his activities from his mom and never told her
that he had extra cash. She was always offering him, (and me as well),
a few dollars for soda and snacks. We never turned her down.
We started out stealing stereos and speakers out of cars. We’d

only steal good stereos with cassette players. I had a small operation
where we’d take our stolen stereos to the high school parking lot
after our school got out, and we’d offer the high schoolers the stereos
for very cheap prices. If we didn’t sell any, we’d get a bum I knew to
sell them at the pawn shop. We’d give him enough for a bottle of
wine, and we’d go buy pot.
During this winter, I started to grow. I went from a scrawny

five-foot-six to a really scrawny five-foot-ten. Riding bicycles all day
after school made my legs stretch, but they also made them very
strong. Pedaling up and down hilly streets gave me thick calves and
thighs, as well as lots of stamina. Red and I would put them all to the
test by practicing leg kicks on each other. We’d watch Saturday
morning Kung-Fu on TV at his house, and then go outside and
practice on each other and Mike. Mike got the worst of it, but we
actually got really good at kicking what we aimed for. I got to try my
kicking out on a high schooler named Chopper.
I had given him a stereo and speakers for twenty-five dollars in

the high school parking lot. At the time, he said he only had five
dollars and would get us the remaining twenty dollars when he got
paid from his part-time job in another week. Not wanting to carry the
stereo around, I trusted him and said I’d be back on his payday to
collect. After waiting a week, I went to the high school to collect my
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money. He was nowhere to be found. Other people had said he left

early. I was pissed off, but I had an idea of where he might be. All the
high school kids cruised around the mall on weekend nights to show
off their cars and their loud sound systems. The stereo I gave him was
an expensive one, and his car was a beautiful Cutlass Supreme, so I
knew he’d show up there. No biggie, I’d catch him.
Red and I rode out to the mall to see if we could find him. We
rode our bikes on the back roads to the mall and came up on the
backside of the parking lot where the high schoolers parked and
jammed their stereos. Sure enough, there was Chopper.
Red asked me what I was going to do, and I said I’d ride up to
him and ask for my money. If he didn’t have it, I’d demand my stereo
back. I kept a screwdriver and vice-grips with me at all times. Tools of
my trade. If he refused to pay me, or give me my stereo, I told Red to
be ready to fight because I was going to kick Chopper in the face and
then see about my money. Red thought I was joking. When I rode up
to Chopper, he was leaning on the driver side front fender. He saw us
coming up to him, but all he did was smirk at us. I slowed down and
eased my bike down onto the ground on its side. Red stopped right
behind me. I asked Chopper for my twenty and he said he wouldn’t
have it until the next pay day, two weeks away. I said, “NOT GOOD
ENOUGH!” and he said, “TOUGH SHIT!” I put my right foot in his face,
and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A couple of his
buddies acted like they wanted to come at me, but I stood my ground.
I asked him, again, if he had my money and he said, “Not yet!” He
stayed on the ground holding his jaw. His nose was bleeding, too.
Good kick! I got out my screwdriver and got into his driver seat and
began tearing out my stereo. I got into the backseat and got my
speakers, too. All the while, Red stood guard. Chopper stayed on the
ground hoping someone would save him. No one did.
When I got the complete stereo out, I asked everyone if they

wanted to buy it. A dude gave me a twenty, and Red and I pedaled
away laughing our asses off.
I learned that my legs and feet were great weapons. No one at

the high school ever tried me again.
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Chapter 28
Red and I did all sorts of crazy shit together. We’d ride around
on our bikes and think of stuff to do and places to ride. Having wheels
was different for him. He was loving being able to travel all over
Hickory, cruising downside streets, checking out different
neighborhoods, and then to be pulled into B & E’s. I was a bad
example for him, but I never twisted his arm. It was exciting to him.
We learned how to shop-lift together. He got really good at it

too. He did better than I did. We’d go into stores, and I’d block for
him as he loaded his waistband and socks with all sorts of stuff. I was
so slim, and he was just the opposite; bulky. We’d steal clothes, junk
food and candy, watches, cassette tapes, paint, glue, batteries,
anything we needed. We never got caught for any of them.
Clothes were the easiest to take. We’d wear sweatpants and big
t-shirts and go into Kmart’s clothing section to “browse”. We’d pick
out blue jeans and t-shirts in our sizes and go into the changing room.
We’d put on at least two pairs of pants under our sweatpants and a
couple of t-shirts under our t-shirts. We’d just walk out of the store
like we didn’t have a care in the world. If anyone would have tried to
stop us, we already had our escape planned out. We’d run like hell, in
opposite directions, and meet up later. Thank God, we didn’t get
caught.
Our favorite place to steal from was the Record Bar Music Store
in our local mall. The people who worked there were usually young
and stoned, so we’d just fill our waist bands with four or five
cassettes and walk out of the store. It was no big deal for us to carry
our loot outside of the mall and hide it in some bushes and go back
inside for some more. We always left the mall with brand new
cassettes. We carried a big jam box on Red’s bike, just so we’d have
music to jam to while we rode. We were into Rock-N-Roll and always
needed some new stimulation.
I introduced Red to my friends, or gang as we called ourselves,

and told them what Red and I had been up to for a while. Everyone
was glad to meet Red, but Red was really anti-social and didn’t like
being around the other guys that much. Red and I kept up our events
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all through the school year and through the winter. My life was still a
mess.
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Chapter 29
Every time I came home, Mom would pick a fight with me.
“Where have you been?”, “What did you steal this time?”, “How much
money do you have?” If I had any money, I’d give it to her just get rid
of her so May and I could have some peace and quiet. I wish I could go
back in time and change the way I did things back then because I
wouldn’t have left May alone so much with Mom. I’d come home to
find May had been beaten for no good reason, and it’d piss me off. I’d
yell at Mom, and she’d beat me too. I didn’t care about her beating me
because her punches and slaps only made me more resistant to them.
I’d really piss her off when she’d beat me, and I’d laugh at her. I’d
antagonize her into trying to hit me harder. She’d get so tired she’d
just quit and try to ground me. Ha! Yeah right!
I’d tell Red about it, the day after, and he’d be in shock over the
bruises, but then hear me laugh about it. He knew I was tough, but I
believe he thought I was a bit insane, too. I even brought him into our
apartment once just to show him what I was talking about.
Mom was drunk and ornery, having May be her slave. “Get
this”, “Do that”. When she saw Red, she became “Dear Sweet Mom” all
nice and polite. I laughed at her and told Red right in her face that
that was her fake personality she used for company. Well, polite went
out the window. She called me a “Piece of shit”, a “Son of a Bitch”, and
threatened to kill me. Ha! I laughed in her face until she got up off the
sofa and grabbed me by my long hair. She raised a fist to hit me, and I
said, “Not this time, bitch!” I grabbed her fist with both of my hands
and began head-butting her fist, one, two, three, six, ten times. She
went to squalling like a stuck cat, and I was in a moment of insanity.
The only thing that made me quit and let go was Red hollering for me
to stop. I let her hand go and then I noticed blood on her fist: my
blood. Her fingers were gnarled and bent, and her knuckles were
swelling rapidly. Blood got into my eyes. She was yelling that I was
going to jail, and I told her to go fuck herself. I’d press charges on her
for child abuse since I had a witness with me. I went to the bathroom
and saw I had a tiny gash on my head from the ring she wore.
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My head was starting to hurt, but I sucked it up. Red and I left
the apartment after Mom told May to go to a neighbor and call an
ambulance. Mom was going to milk her pain for all it was worth.
Outside, Red was laughing and not believing what he just saw.
He asked me what I was going to do, and I told him I’d stay the night
with him if his parents didn’t care. They didn’t.
His mom fixed me up and gave me some aspirin for my

headache. Red and I smoked some pot and laughed about our day.
The next day, I went home to see how much trouble I was in.
Mom was on the sofa, her usual spot, with a cast on her arm. My
Uncle Rob was there, too. He looked pissed off but didn’t say much.
Mom told me she told the cops that I did that to her hand, and I told
her that I told the cops that she busted my head. I lied, just like she
was lying, but my lie was a bit scarier to her. I told her Red’s mom
called the cops to report the abuse, but I talked them out of arresting
her because of May. She believed me and told me she didn’t want Red
in her home anymore. I said, “Yeah, yeah”, and I kept moving towards
my room.
May caught pure hell as her slave, so I tried to ease things by

cooking, cleaning, and doing errands so Mom would leave her alone.
At first, Mom acted like a child and wouldn’t take anything I cooked,
saying I might poison her. Little did she know; I did spit in her food
every time I made it. She’d get hungry so she’d eat it, especially the
drunker she got. She’d yell for May to “Get me a beer!” and I’d get it.
“May, get me a cold rag for my head”, and I’d get it, etc. Every time
she’d ask for a beer, I’d take a sip and piss in the bottle or can fill it
back up. She never knew what I was up to. She must’ve drunk gallons
of my piss. I would wait to go to the bathroom to piss, just so I could
fill up her beer. Take that bitch!
She still tried to be in control over me in every way. Her hand

got better, and the cast came off. All my uncles came by to give me the
third degree on what they’d do to me if I hurt her again. I let it go in
one ear and out the other. Blah, blah, blah was all I heard. Even after
telling them about how badly, she beat us, they didn’t want to hear it.
I was the bad seed, and she was their saintly sister.
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Our fights were escalating to a boiling point. She’d have me go

get her a belt or some switches from the bush outside to beat me
with. I’d go and get them and laugh at her when she began to beat me.
Sometimes, I’d take the beating instrument away from her and beat
myself, yelling at her that she was too weak to do it right. That’d
really piss her off. I even took a handful of switches to her, one day,
and tossed them in her lap. I said, “Use all of them, you bitch”. She
grabbed a handful and began beating me with them. I went insane
with laughter, then anger. I snatched the switches out of her hands
and began using them on her. She tried to fight back, but I was too
quick for her. I hit her everywhere I could until I got tired. When I
was done, I left the house and went to Red’s. I stayed there a few days
to let her calm down, and the episode died away.
When I came back, Mom was in a pissy mood. She had no

money, no beer, and no man, so she had to take it out on May and me.
May had bruises on her face, and I questioned Mom about it. She told
me she slapped May because she was acting like me. I told her if she
laid a hand on May again, I’d kill her when she fell asleep. She just
looked at me in shock; I stared at her, eyeball to eyeball, to let her see
I was dead serious. She told me she was going to call the cops on me,
and I reversed the threat by telling her I didn’t care. I’d tell them
about her abuse, and how she used the welfare money and food
stamps to get drunk. That shut her up, as it always did. Things started
settling down a bit for us after that. She left us alone, and I left her
alone.
One evening, I gave Mom five dollars I had after I did a B & E
just to get her out of the house to give May and me a break from
seeing her all day. Well, for May more than myself since I stayed gone
most of the time. Later that night, I put May to bed after I fixed
dinner, then I went to bed. I had to go to school the next day.
Early in the morning, around 3 or 4 a.m., Mom woke me up. She

was sitting in a chair beside my bed, with an open bible in her lap.
She told me we were going to read the bible. I told her to get out of
my room and let me sleep. I had to go to school in the morning. She
was drunk, feeling mean, and wanted some of my undivided
attention. I guess she thought she could “save” me, or us, with reading
the bible. I don’t know. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but
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she kept pulling my covers off me and tugging at my arm to get me to

roll over and pay attention to her. I kept pushing her hand off me,
telling her to leave me alone and go to bed. She was too drunk to talk.
Finally, she got too irritated and grabbed me by the hair. She pulled
me up into a sitting position. I snapped. I grabbed the wrist of the
hand that had me by the hair and twisted it until she let me go. She
reared back the other hand to hit me, but I beat her to it. I grabbed
her by the hair and pulled her head into my lap and hit her as hard as
I could, right between the eyes. She slid out of the chair, down onto
the floor, out cold. She was snoring in seconds flat.
I got out of the bed and woke May up. I had her gather up some
of her clothes and I got everything I could pack into my backpack. I
knew I wasn’t coming back. I searched Mom’s pockets and dug out a
few dollars and some change. I went downstairs to the neighbors and
called a cab. The neighbor said he heard our commotion and was
fixing to call the cops. I told him what transpired, and he said, “Good
for you, kid!” And if I ever needed a witness for her actions, for any
reason, I could call on him and he’d tell everything he knew about
her.
When the cab arrived, I gave him the money I had and told him
to drive my sister to Ms. Adamson’s house; if it was anymore cost,
Grandma would pay it. Every cab driver knew Grandma because that
was her only mode of transportation, other than friends and walking.
He took May away and I went back inside to get my stuff. Mom was
still asleep on my bedroom floor, snoring away. I gathered up my bag
and other things I wanted to keep and left the apartment.
I rode my bike to Red’s house and had to tap on the bedroom

window to wake him up. He let me in, and I explained what occurred.
The next morning, we told his mom what happened, and she said I
could stay with them for as long as I liked. I was able to sleep in peace
that morning.
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Chapter 30
Waking up at Red’s house was a trip. His sister came walking

into the living room in her T-shirt and panties and I got an eyeful of
what she possessed. She didn’t know I was asleep on the sofa until it
was too late. She walked past me, and I got a good look at that fat
bottom and fell in lust. When she finally realized it was me on the
sofa, with sleep in her eyes, she got embarrassed because I saw her
that way. I just smiled. She ran to her room, blushing all the way. I
thought, “Yeah, I’m gonna like staying with them”.
Red’s dad was cool with me staying there, too, even though I
couldn’t understand one single word he said. Mike was cool with it
too, so I made myself at home. Red and I went to school and acted like
brothers.
I felt truly free from Mom’s grasp. I didn’t know what was going
to transpire from my knocking her out, but I believed she wouldn’t
pursue anything concerning the law since she knew I would accuse
her of all sorts of stuff too. I had Red’s mom go and talk to her. Mom
told her I was to “Stay the hell away from her and May, or else.” No
problem! My only concern was May. I told Red’s mom to tell her that
if I hear she’s abusing May in any way, I’d call the cops and the social
services on her. I think she believed me.
Staying with Red’s family was great, except for one thing:
ROACHES. Their house was infested with them. I slept on the sofa and
would wake up in the middle of the night to urinate. The first time I
realized how bad it was one morning when I got up and put my feet
on the floor. I stepped on a pile of them; they were scurrying all over
the floor. Where I placed my feet were dead, gooey, oozing carcasses.
UGH! I couldn’t believe it. I turned on the lamp next to the sofa and
they scurried everywhere. Nasty! I had to make sure I turned on a
lamp each and every time I awoke in the night just so the roaches
could flee before I went to the bathroom. Crazy!
Other than that, it was great. Susan let me be her first sexual
experience. We’d meet, clandestinely, at the park a couple of blocks
from the house and go into some woods to have sex. It wasn’t
romantic, just pleasurable. She was an experimental type of girl and
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let me teach her all sorts of pleasures I had learned. I had tons of sex
with her. She’d sneak into the living room at night, and crawl all over
me. We’d tease and talk shit to each other during the day just to put
up a front in front of everyone, as if we didn’t like each other, only to
laugh at our antics at night. I think Red knew, but he never, ever,
spoke of it to me.
Red and I went on all sorts of robbery sprees together. Our

most famous, to us, was robbing the ballpark at the park near his
house. During the evening, we’d go and watch some of the softball
games and scope out the girls. The ballpark was used seven days a
week for the local factory workers who had company softball teams.
Each evening they’d play each other. The concession stand was our
goal.
The concession stand was run by the local recreation

department, so they hired high school kids to run it. This stand was
worked by a fat kid named Brian. Red and I would hang next to the
stand and talk to him, befriending him. After a couple days of seeing
us and talking to us, he began to give us free hot dogs and sodas to
keep us hanging out with him. At a ballpark full of adults, he had no
one to talk to, so we were it. Red and I had nothing else to do besides
wait until dark and do the robbery, so we stayed and scoped the place
out.
I mainly wanted to know what the locks looked like on the door
and concession stand window. I got my chance for a real close up
look one day when Brian asked me to jump over the counter and help
him out. It was busy and he was working like crazy. He needed an
extra set of hands, and I was elected. Cool!
After the Kaos of getting sodas, chips and hot dogs was over,
Brian needed to go to the bathroom. He drank big cups of soda like a
fish in water. He told me to watch the stand while he went and pissed.
No problem! As soon as he left, I opened the cash box to see what he
had, and to my surprise it was loaded. I slipped two twenty dollar
bills out and put them into my pocket. I had Red keep an eye out for
Brian as I went to look at the locks on the concession stand door and
window: easy pickings for me. When Brian got back, he thanked me
and gave Red and me any food and drink we wanted. We got some
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hot dogs and sodas and told him we’d be back tomorrow. He thanked
us, again, for our help and we rode off on our bikes, laughing all the
way.
I discussed what we’d do to the concession stand to get in.

We’d use a screwdriver to wedge the slip-locks up and out of the way,
and a hooked crowbar to pull the boards away from the inside. The
window was on hinges that ran across the top opening up, swinging
from the bottom up to the ceiling, where a latch held it open. Closed,
there were two, 2 X 4’s crossing the window. They settled on each
side of the window in two L-shaped, steel brackets just like in the old
days to protect castle doors. At the bottom of the window when it
was closed, were two, little, cheap, slide locks. A screwdriver would
open them. The roof on the stand was built for ventilation reasons
and had open airways across the top. I could stick my arm through an
airway and grab the top crossbar. The lower crossbar would be lifted
by a hooked crowbar I’d lower inside and down to it. I’d hook it and
lift it off its brackets. Easy!
Red and I took our forty dollars and went to Godfathers pizza
and then saw a movie.
Later that night, armed with hefty trash bags, a screwdriver,

and a crowbar, we went to the ballpark. In just a couple of minutes,
we were inside the concession stand. We took every bag of chips,
every candy bar, every frozen hot dog, and bags of buns. We got out
of the window and pedaled for home. We snuck the bags into Red’s
room, waking Mike. We let him eat whatever he wanted and laughed
about our haul.
The next day, we went back to the ballpark in the evening.

Brian and a man from the recreation department were restocking the
stand. We rode up and asked, “What’s up?” Brian said someone broke
in and stole all of the food. We acted shocked. The man said he had no
idea how the thieves picked the door locks, nor why the window was
opened. We just shook our heads, sadly. Brian asked us to stick
around, so we could help out with the concession stand once the park
got underway and we said, “No problem!” He had no idea it was us
that broke in.
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Once again, I stole forty dollars when he went to piss, and we

ate hot dogs and soda until it closed. Red and I decided to only hit the
concession stand on Friday nights because they’d restock for
weekend games. Our hauls would be bigger. We still showed up every
evening, and I stole forty dollars each night. Brian never said a word
about any missing money.
For the rest of the week, we went around to other ballparks.

There were thirteen ball parks scattered around Hickory to support
all the factory teams. Red conned his mom, somehow, into letting us
use her Buick. He told her we were going to help someone move and
he needed to practice his driving, anyway. Being Red, she let him
have the car! UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!
First thing we had to do was find someone to buy all the junk
food we were stealing. Red’s room had about ten hefty trash bags
piled up in the corner. We needed to get rid of that stuff. We stopped
at a Mom-and-Pop store called Greene’s Market. Old man Greene was
a good fella and bought everything we could bring him. Of course, he
only paid about twenty-five percent of its worth, but who cared?
Money was money to us. Now our operation could begin in earnest.
We hit ballpark after ballpark for two weeks. We cleaned them

out, all the while selling the loot to Mr. Greene. Every evening I stole
up to forty dollars from Brian’s concession stand, and at night, broke
into other stands.
We almost got caught on our last mission; Red’s mom wouldn’t

let us use her car, so we rode our bikes to Brian’s concession stand to
clean it out. We got stoned before we tried to break in, and I got
sloppy. We popped the bottom latches, and I climbed up to reach
inside the roof’s opening with the crowbar just to drop the crowbar
inside the concession stand. “Clang, bang, clang” rang out all over the
place. The concession stand was next to a neighborhood and some
lights came on in a house. We had to boogie out of there.
Red and I got on our bikes and hauled ass. As we rode away, we
had to figure out how we were going to get back inside the stand and
get that crowbar back before Brian came to work and gave it to the
police.
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We hid out and watched the ballpark to see if the cops would
show up, but none did. We had to find a way to get in there. We rode
around until we saw a pile of trash with some curtains and curtain
rods lying in the pile. I stopped and snatched a rod out of the pile. I
figured I could bend the rod like a hook and use that to move the
bottom board holding the concession stand window shut. We raced
back to the park, and I got into the stand. We didn’t even bother
stealing anything. I just got our crowbar back and fled out of there.
No sooner than we turned the corner, we saw a cop car cruise by the
concession stand and use his spotlight to look at the place. Since the
door was closed and the window was down, he didn’t bother getting
out of his car. WHEW! That was close. We ended our ballpark
escapades that night.
A few days later, Brian was replaced with an older woman, so

that was the end of that money-pot, too. On to other things.
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Chapter 31
I wasn’t feeling like going to school too often, so I asked Red’s

mom if she’d help me get a work permit so I could go find a job. I had
some money saved up—about three hundred dollars—from our
ballpark raids, but I wanted some kind of normalcy, and I figured a
job would be great for me. Besides, I didn’t want to stay at Red’s any
longer than I had to. The roaches were getting to me, and Susan was
becoming reckless with wanting sex all the time. She’d sneak into the
bathroom while I was showering or even pissing. She wanted sex
every day, all the time. I didn’t mind helping her out, but it got too
crazy for me. I had to move on.
Red’s mom went and talked to Grandma and got her to sign the
form allowing me to work. We lied on the document saying I was
sixteen instead of on the verge of turning thirteen. I was already
about six feet tall, so it was plausible that I was old enough to work.
With my work permit in hand, I set out to look for a job. A

brand-new steakhouse restaurant opened up next to I-40, so I gave
that my first shot. I told the manger that I quit school to help take
care of my mom and sister, so he hired me on the spot. I was a
dishwasher making $3.10 an hour. Big money! Ha!
I worked as much as the manager would let me. I really liked

the job and the people I worked with. Everyone called me “kid” or
Tommy, and I was helpful to everyone. When they needed a busboy, I
was a busboy. A vacuum cleaner operator, I was that, too. I was also a
petty thief. DUH!
Every chance I had, I’d steal something, anything! Mostly loose

change or bills that were for the waitresses and waiters, but I’d take
food, too. I’d put ten T-bone steaks into a trash bag of ice and put it in
the dumpster. After work, I’d grab the trash bag and pedal home.
We’d all eat steak that night.
After a couple of weeks, I got my first paycheck. It wasn’t any

huge amount, but it was mine. I earned it. Red’s mom told me to save
it, and I gave it to her. I still had money stashed from the concession
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business, so I wasn’t needing any money at the moment. Besides, I

had a plan for that money.
I worked for two full months and saved most of my paychecks.

When I finally got a couple of days off, I went in search of a place to
live—my own apartment. There was a slumlord who owned all sorts
of apartment houses all over Hickory. This guy was an attorney, but
also a businessman. We had lived in many of his rundown, crappy,
apartments in the past, and I knew he was a shady character, so I
went to him. His office was downtown.
Upon entering his office, he looked at me with a smirk on his

face. I told his secretary that I wanted to rent an apartment that he
had for rent, so he thought I was some dumb kid. He asked how he
could help me, and I told him my already planned out story, that I
wanted to rent an apartment for me, my mom, and my sister. That
I’ve been working and saved up enough to pay rent, plus a deposit, on
a certain apartment he had for rent. That I wanted to surprise my
mom with my motivation and hoped he could help me. I explained
that we were about to get kicked out of our apartment due to lack of
Mom’s finances, and I didn’t like our old landlord and didn’t want to
give him my money. He sat back and looked at me long and hard. He
said he knew my mom, having dealt with her in the past, and was
hesitant on renting to her again. I reminded him that he wouldn’t be
renting to her; he’d be renting to me. I showed him my work permit
and my check stubs to show him I was old enough and had a job.
After a couple of minutes, he gave in and had me fill out the
paperwork for my new apartment. I paid him one hundred-fifty
dollars: seventy-five for the deposit and seventy-five for the rent. He
gave me the keys, and I was out of there.
I raced back home and waited for Red and his mom to come
home. They helped me pack up my spare belongings, along with the
few items that I had stolen from work, spoons, forks, knives, cups, a
couple of plates, etc. We set out for my place.
It was a downstairs apartment; I didn’t want another upstairs

apartment, but no other people lived in the house. I was the only
tenant. Party Time! It didn’t have electricity, but it was fully furnished
with one queen-sized bed, a sofa, table, chairs, refrigerator, stove, etc.
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It had a fireplace and there was a pile of wood outside, so I had that at
least. I’d survive. Red’s mom said she’d help me get the electricity on,
so I was happy.
After everyone but Red left, we smoked joint after joint to

christen the new place. My home, my pad, my party palace! Ha! I went
and got all my friends, and we had a party. I paid a bum to buy us
some beer and wine, and we all got smashed. The only light we had
was a kerosene lamp that Red’s mom gave me, but we didn’t care. No
adults and my own place. We were very relaxed and loving life.
The next day, we all got awakened by a neighbor’s daughter.

She was knocking on the door wanting to know who we were and
why we were in the apartment. I called her a “snoop” and explained
to her that I had rented the place. She said her parents were thinking
of calling the cops on us because of all the loud hollering and laughing
we were doing the night before, but decided to wait and see what
kind of people moved in. I assured her it was only me, with a few
friends staying the night. She asked how old I was, and I told her I
was sixteen. She, too, was sixteen and I could tell she was going to be
fun. She had that look in her eye that said “curious”. I couldn’t wait to
find out. I asked her if she’d like to come in and she said, “maybe
later!” and left. Her parting words were, “please keep the late-night
noise down.” I said, “No problem, beautiful!” She left blushing.
I went back to work and did a good job of keeping everyone

balanced and out of my business. The landlord left me alone. He
didn’t know Mom and May weren’t there. The neighbors fell in love
with me after I brought them some T-bone steaks to cook. I could
only cook them on the grill in my fireplace, since Red’s mom forgot
about the lights, but I wasn’t paying any attention to it. I was working
twelve hours a day, coming home to eat, smoke pot and sleep. Then,
take a freezing cold shower and go back to work. The neighbor girl,
Ann, became my constant companion after a night of stoned, blissful
sex. She told me she loved me on a daily basis and gave me sex as
much as I could stand it. She would’ve moved in with me if I’d have
asked her to, but that wasn’t part of my plans. I was still wandering
with other girls, too.
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Everything was running smoothly, I was still throwing raucous

parties on my days off, but my savings were going fast. I was
supplying everything for me and the gang. They didn’t do any B and
E’s since I wasn’t around to guide them. They were going to school
and being lazy in the evenings. I didn’t pay any attention to it, but I
should have. Then out of the blue, Mom showed up at my door.
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Chapter 32
I answered the door with sleep in my eyes. I worked all day, the
day before, and had to work again at 11 a.m. Mom kept pounding
until I opened it. I couldn’t believe it. I asked her, “What the fuck do
you want?” She said she needed to talk to me about something and
didn’t want to fight. I told her I didn’t have anything to talk to her
about. She asked if she could come in, and I stepped out onto the
porch and said, “No. Tell me what you got to tell me and leave.” I
looked in my driveway and saw an old pickup truck with a long-
haired, bearded fella in it. Mom told me that the social services lady
was going to come and see her on Monday—it was a Wednesday
morning that she showed up at my door—and she needed me to be
present at her new home in Mountain View, North Carolina for the
social security lady to talk to me. If I didn’t show up, she’d call the
cops on me and tell them where I was staying. She said she’d tell
them that I ran away and was underage. I got pissed off and said, “Go
ahead bitch.” I’ll tell the cops about your abuse, too. She said she
didn’t give a fuck what I told them, I’d go to a boy’s home, and May
would go to a girl’s home. I went back inside and slammed the door,
fuming.
A few minutes later, the bearded guy in the truck knocked on

my door. I answered it with my knife in my hand. I had it hidden
behind the door, so he couldn’t see it. I didn’t know what to expect.
He asked me if he could talk to me, and I told him to talk. He said that
he knew about my fight with Mom and knew I didn’t want to go home
with her, but would I at least think about it. He said he was part of the
Satan Street Rider’s Motorcycle Club and that they were throwing a
huge party at their clubhouse that weekend. I could come to his
house in the mountains, stay the weekend and party, then see the
social services lady on Monday. He’d drive me back on Monday. He
said he didn’t want to see me or May in a kid’s home when he could
settle it all up over the weekend.
I began to think about it. He explained his club and the party to
me and said I could do any drugs I wanted to and drink for free. All
the food would be free to me, also. I asked if I could bring my
girlfriend and he said, “No problem!” I told him to come back on
Friday and I’d let him know.
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They left and I got to thinking. What would it hurt to go to the

mountains for the weekend and come back on Monday? Yes, I hated
Mom and hated doing any favors for her, but at least it’d keep her off
my back. I was only twelve years old, almost thirteen, and I had a lot
of freedom to lose if she called the police on me. The first thing I
needed to do was ask my boss if I could have the weekend off, then
see if Ann’s parents would let her go with me. I needed some sex for
the weekend.
My boss thought it was a good idea for me to go on vacation

with my “family”. At least that’s the story I gave him; that we were
going camping in the mountains. I didn’t know how close to the truth
that was.
Ann’s parents were cool with it, too. They already knew we
were having sex and that Ann was in love with me, so they consented
to it as long as Mom talked to them before we left.
I made sure I got my apartment squared away and packed

some clothes into my trusty backpack. I gave Red a key to the
apartment and let him use it, so he’d have a place to hang out with my
friends. Everyone was used to coming to my place to party, so I didn’t
want to stop them from having a good time while I was gone.
On Friday, the bearded guy, Ray, was knocking on my door. He

said he left Mom at home because he didn’t want us to be cramped in
his truck on the drive home. Besides, he didn’t want her and me that
close together. He understood the hatred between us and promised
me she’d not be a problem all weekend long. I took him next door to
meet Ann’s parents and they let her come with us. We loaded up the
truck and headed for the hills.
The drive took the usual amount of time, lots of curves and
steep inclines until we came to his place. It was as if we stepped back
in time, and I was living back in the hills again. The house was very
much like the one I lived in when I was younger, but in more
disrepair. It too, was situated on the side of a hill, with an outhouse
and a well. Talk about déjà vu. We parked at the top of the hill and
walked down to the house.
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May came out to greet us and gave me a hug. She said she
missed me, and I told her I missed her too. I asked her if Mom had
been beating on her, and she said not too much since Ray was
around. To me, that was a blessing.
Mom was in her usual mood of looking pissed off at having to

be nice to me, but I didn’t care. Ray told her to leave me and Ann
alone all weekend, and that I’d promised to not start any fights with
her. I was just here to see the social worker on Monday and then go
back home. Mom said she’d play nice and stay out of my way.
The sleeping arrangements weren’t a lot to be happy about, but

it sufficed. Ann and I got to sleep in a sleeping bag in a back room; at
least we had some privacy.
Ray took Ann, May, and me to meet his brother’s family and
some of his fellow bikers. We went to Jack’s house, Ray’s brother,
which was only about a mile up the road. They had a full house of
people when we got there. There must have been twenty adults, and
a bunch of kids running everywhere. Ray said the club members were
putting the finishing touches on the weekend party plan.
Jack was a bear of a man. Big, bearded, and jolly as can be. His
wife, Betty, was small, beautiful, and friendly, with hair down to her
knees. She reminded me of a prettier Crystal Gayle. I was in lust upon
meeting her. Jack introduced me to the other bike members as
Sheryl’s son, “Tommy.” Jack’s daughter, Grace, was all eyeballs and
smiles upon meeting me, too. She was twelve years old and hot to
trot. I just had to keep my composure around Ann, who had a death
grip on me the whole time we were at Jack’s house. She was being
eyeballed by the other bikers, and their boisterous ways were
overwhelming to her. To me, it was like old times.
Ray told Jack and Betty why I was there and that I’d be staying
there the weekend for the party. Jack said I could do whatever I chose
to do, except for killing someone, that was his joke to me. He gave
Ann and me our carte blanche for all the food and drinks throughout
the whole weekend and asked me to please not start anything with
Mom, nor anyone else. I agreed to mind my own business and offered
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to help him if he needed it. Ann and I hung out at Jack’s ‘til late that
night and Ray took us back to his place for the night.
The next morning, we got up early and everyone piled into the
pickup. We headed to the biker compound, deep in the woods, about
ten miles from Ray’s place. The compound was an open field about
the size of a football field. The only way to get to it was to drive down
a few rutted, dirt roads, then down an old, dried creek bed. Cars
wouldn’t make it there at all. Mostly four-wheel drives, trucks, and
motorcycles made the trip. It was a bumpy, swaying ride to get to the
field.
Once we got there, all sorts of activity were going on. Bikers
were everywhere. Tents were being put up, bikes were being cleaned,
kegs of beer were being moved here or there, and people of all sorts
of shapes and sizes were milling about.
The dirt track leading to the grounds was congested with bikes,
trucks and people carrying coolers, back packs and sleeping bags. In a
couple of spots, there were trucks stuck in ruts with men all around
them trying to get them out.
There was a cattle gate at the entrance and a little wooden hut
that a “probate”, named Hawkeye, was manning. He made sure
everyone had some sort of visitation pass or invitation from another
biker club just to enter. There were at least ten different biker clubs
at this affair.
Inside the compound, it was shaped like an oval. It had two

rock-built huts on either side of the field with a huge stone circle in
the middle for a campfire. Somehow, there was a raggedy, beat-up
mobile home sitting on blocks at the base of the compound next to
the creek. Running up the middle of the compound, just next to the
campfire circle, was sort of like a drag strip, only it was dirt. Bikers
were racing up the hill on their hogs, trying to beat each other.
I’ve seen all sorts of craziness due to Mom’s antics and the guys
she brought home, but this place was nuts. Women were walking
around topless, men were pissing anywhere they chose, and drunks
were everywhere, and drugs were plentiful. One of the rock huts was
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being used as a whore house of sorts, too. Any woman who chose to
make a few dollars could go into the hut, lay on the makeshift table,
naked and legs spread, and let anyone have at her until she had
enough money or just plain had enough. I got an eyeful of that hut in
just a few hours. Anna clung to me like a second skin, but no one even
bothered us.
We walked about for a while, and then we ran into Hawkeye.

I’ve known him since I was a kid. He used to hang out in Hickory at
various bars that Mom would go to, regularly, with me and May in
tow. He was a tall, gangly character with one eye. The other eye got
cut out in a knife fight.
Since he was the only soul I knew besides Ray and his kin, I
naturally went to him when I wanted to smoke some pot. He had to
run the gate and the cookhouse by himself because he was the only
probate for Jack and Ray’s club, “The Satan Street Riders”. Ann and I
decided to help him cook hot dogs and sell beer from the trailer,
while smoking pot at the same time.
All sorts of activities were going on all over the place. Bike
races, best bike contest, biggest tits contest, hot dog eating races
where a girl stands up on the back of a moving bike while the driver
drives into a position so the girl can get at a hot dog hanging on a
string above their heads, buck dancing, stripping, hog calling and just
plain fighting. No weapons were “allowed”, but you could clearly see
guys with knives and guns everywhere. Jack was the president of his
club and had all sorts of security all over the place. Other clubs had
their own security, too, but it all worked out and no one got seriously
hurt.
Both Saturday and Sunday were a hoot. I got stoned all day,
each day, for free, and everyone seemed to like me. Lots of women
and girls were trying to coax me into the bushes or woods, but Ann
wasn’t letting me out of her sight.
Sunday evening, everyone departed for their homes, and I went

back to Ray’s. The next day the welfare lady showed up and I told her
all was lovely. She left, and Ray took me and Ann back to my place in
Hickory. He gave me a number and told me I could call Jack anytime I
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needed to get a hold of him for any reason. He left, and Ann and I
went to her house to fill in her parents on our escapades.
Things got back too normal for a couple of weeks. That is, until
I had one too many parties and my landlord found out I had lied to
him. He came over one morning and found me, and my friends
crashed all about the apartment with no adults around. He gave me a
stern lecture and said I had to move out in a week. He wasn’t going to
be responsible for a bunch of kids if the law came around. I could do
nothing but respect him.
I partied hard for a couple more days then called Jack. I asked
him to tell Ray that I’d like to come and stay with them if I could, and
they said they’d be happy to have me. I quit my job and Ray came to
get me…back to the hills for me.
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Chapter 33
Mom wasn’t that excited to see me, but Ray kept her out of my
hair. I got to hang out, mostly, at Jack’s house. Jack was like a big
brother to me, although he’d have killed me if he knew of my
extracurricular activities. It started out with sex between me and his
daughter, but she got crazy with it. She became a nymph and wanted
sex everywhere and all the time. She was just twelve years old, same
as me, but man she was hot to trot. Jack had laid the law down to me
about not messing with his daughter because he already knew I was
into sex. He thought his little girl was an angel. Ha! Well, we did what
we had to do to keep up that charade for as long as we could. Jack’s
wife, Betty, was another story.
I had to help with my share of the chores and bills while I

stayed there. From spring through summer, I worked at a hillbilly
sawmill pulling and stacking wet pine slabs out of pieces. It was a
painful job, a dirty job, a messy job, but it paid me five dollars an
hour, cash. Jack, Ray, and I went to work each morning, and by noon
we were near dead. I used most of my money to buy clothes and pot. I
got May clothes, as well, and gave Mom and Betty equal amounts of
money for food. I’d eat at both places, so I figured it was only fair.
Mom didn’t like it, but who cares?
I settled in and became part of the family with the bikers. Jack’s
house stayed busy with members and hanger-on’s, at all hours
sometimes. There’d be all night alcohol binges, card games, mostly
poker, and just plain stoner parties. I tried being in everything going
on at Jacks, including his wife, Betty.
For some crazy reason, she was attracted to me, very badly.
She’d eyeball me every chance she got, and it used to creep me out at
first. I had no idea she was looking at me sexually. She knew I was
having sex with her daughter because she had a long talk with her
about not getting pregnant. Although she did tell her it wouldn’t be so
bad if I was the father.
One day, Jack, Ray, and the kids loaded up the Chevy Impala
and went into town. Betty asked me to stay behind to help with
moving “stuff” around, and I agreed. I wanted to see what was up
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with her, and God knows I did. As soon as they left, she jumped my
bones in a desperate way. I held on for the ride as long as it took, and
for a couple of times. She was worse than her daughter. I loved every
minute of it.
No one knew what we were up to, so we carried on the whole

time I was up there. Whenever we got a spare few moments, we’d
have some sort of sex, the same with her daughter. Being almost
thirteen, and well versed in sexual experiences, I could take it.
We all lived pretty good for being on welfare and with our
sawmill paychecks. The club did really well with their parties, too.
They charged for beer and food they served at their parties. All of the
merchandise was stolen from various bars and lounges throughout
three to five outward-lying counties. These weren’t bikers who
respected businesses, these were thugs.
During the winter months, they’d go on raids to nearby towns

and counties of local bars. They’d send out scouts to places to get the
logistics straight, and then about twenty of them would ride into that
town to the bar and raid it. They’d literally come into the bar and rob
the place at gun point. They’d take every beer, every bottle of liquor,
every wallet, watch, necklace, and ring, and any storable food, such as
hamburgers, hot dogs, pickled eggs and feet, and snacks. With three
to four trucks and vans, they only had to load up and hightail it out of
there. They’d split up and go in various directions to get to the house.
Only once did anyone get caught, and that’s because he got a flat tire
a couple of blocks away. So, all sorts of stuff was stored until
springtime and party time. All it cost them was gas. Time to party!
Throughout the end of summer, we partied hard at the

compound. We’d go out there at all hours of the day and night and
find people hanging out. Hawkeye was living there due to his having
to hide from the law. He kept the grounds clean and party ready.
Hawkeye was a crazy ass dude. He was tall, about six-foot-

three, gangly, with black hair down his back, and a scar running
across his right eye. He got cut across the face in a bar fight, resulting
in his losing his right eye. He looked menacing until you got to know
him. Then you saw a big puppy who loved to play and joke around.
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That’s what usually got him into trouble, though, his joking around.
He’d say stuff in a joking manner, and people would take it wrong and
want to fight.
He was hiding from the law because two rednecks made fun of
his scar and hair-length in a local pool joint. The place was nothing
more than a backroom to an Advent gas and grocery store at a
crossroads in Mountain View. Only those who really wanted to drink
came to this place. Hawkeye was walking from Jack’s place to the
compound and stopped there to have a beer; the pool hall/gas station
was only about a mile from the compound. As Hawkeye came into the
bar, two rednecks and the bartender, who also owns the place,
started to heckle Hawkeye’s appearance. He laughed along with them
and then told the one redneck that he had an ugly ass, pregnant wife
standing next to him. He was talking about his buddy. His buddy got
mad and threatened Hawkeye with a pocketknife. Hawkeye laughed
at him and pulled out a machete-sized knife out of his boot. The first
redneck tried to rush Hawkeye, but he caught him in the gut,
disemboweling him. The second redneck got it right through the
windpipe. The bartender pulled out a gun and Hawkeye ran away. He
went back to Jack’s place and holed up until they could get him to the
compound. He’d been hiding there for over a year by the time I came
into the picture. The disemboweled redneck lived, the other one died.
Hawkeye didn’t need anything where he was. He had the creek water
and fire pits, plus all of the weed he could grow, and a small still to
drink out of; he was content. Later in life, I’d run into him at a very
tense time for me.
I started to stay more and more at Jack’s place. Things between

me and Mom were worsening. She kept getting mouthy towards me,
and I’d snap back at her. Ray wasn’t liking it that I was cussing at
Mom either. I guess he felt that since I was in his house, I had no right
to cuss at Mom when she cussed at me. WRONG! So, I stayed at Jack’s
as much as possible.
One night, after work on a Friday, we all got paid and decided
to play some poker that evening. I was always kidded about having so
much money on me (two-hundred-dollars) and not losing any to
them, so I decided to give it a try. I had the basics of it down, but I was
nervous at first. I used to stand on the sideline and watch the adults
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play all the time, so I learned most of the games and how to bet. I got
out twenty dollars and sat in. Call it beginners’ luck because I started
out winning.
After about two hours of playing, I had amassed about five-

hundred dollars from my initial twenty dollars. I was killing them. A
couple of bikers wanted me to quit and leave, but the ones who lost
the most didn’t want me to go anywhere. They wanted a shot at
winning their money that was lining my pockets and socks. I had so
much money, I had trouble putting it up.
What became the final hand for the night came down to me and
another biker. This was a big, hairy guy called Skin. He was hairy all
over except for his head which was bald on top and long hair on the
sides. Skin lost most of his weekly paycheck in our poker game, me
winning most of it. In the last hand, I had a pair of jacks and a pair of
deuces. We had one draw to come. Skin bet all his cash and I called.
After the draw, I pulled another jack, giving me a full house. Skin had
a good hand, too. He had three aces, so he thought I had two pair by
the way I drew one card. He knew he had the winner. When betting
got under way, I bet a hundred dollars. Skin got pissed off. He said I
was trying to buy the pot because everyone could see he had no more
money. He had us wait on him while he ran out to his truck. He came
back in with a chrome-plated, sawed off shot gun. He wasn’t going to
aim it at anyone, but Jack stepped up to him and asked him what he
thought he was doing. He said he was only using the gun to cover the
bet. He placed it on the dining room table and said he called my bet.
When I turned over my full house, he looked like someone shot him
with white paint, then red; he was pissed.
Jack told me to get my money and wait in the living room while
he talked to Skin. I got my money but left the gun lying where it was
at. In the living room, everyone was happy and congratulating me in
kicking everyone’s ass in poker. It felt good, but not so much for Skin.
He had a wife and two kids, and I knew he screwed up by losing all of
his paycheck at poker. I scooped out two-hundred and took it back in
the kitchen. When Skin saw me handing him back some money, he
tried to refuse it, but I pushed it on him. I even gave him his gun back.
He about cried as he got up and hugged me for what I did for him.
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Of course, everyone else wanted their money back, too, but that
wasn’t going to happen. I gave Jack some money to go to the liquor
house to get the adults some liquor, and I gave Betty some money to
go to the grocery market to get us some food to party on. It was a
good night, and I did some good deeds.
Life wasn’t so bad for me as long as I stayed out of Mom’s face.

Ray started to dislike me more and more, so I stayed at Jack’s most
often. I didn’t mind that at all, except for his daughter. She was
starting to become reckless with her sex antics. She’d sneak into the
living room at night and climb all over me when everyone was asleep.
The sofa was very close to Jack’s bedroom door. I was always very
nervous when having sex with her at those times. Betty and I kept up
our discreet meetings and I would have fallen in love with her if she
was single, but…. That’s just how it was.
Getting closer to fall, they had a few more parties at the

compound. I became a regular helper with Hawkeye and would go
there and spend a few days with him. I did it just to get a break from
Jack’s daughter and wife, but also to just have some piece of mind.
The compound was always very quiet, with no one around. Hawkeye
kept up his still while I kept up the pot patch and animal traps. One
job we both had to do was to store up wood for the bonfire circle.
Usually, we’d traipse through the woods and drag any fallen trees and
limbs to the compound clearing and use the chainsaw to cut it up.
One day, Hawkeye had an idea. We borrowed Ray’s truck to go

into town for supplies and we pulled into a gas station for gas. Next to
the gas station, stacked right up against a wall, was a huge pile of
used tires. Hawkeye asked the gas station attendant about them, and
the guy said we could take whatever we could carry. Hawkeye had
me to help him load up the truck with a huge heap of tires, telling me
these tires will burn all night long, unlike the wood, where you had to
keep adding wood to the fire to keep it going. No big deal to me.
We got back to the compound and loaded the tires into the fire
circle and then went about other tasks.
That weekend, we had another huge get together at the

compound. Hawkeye lit the tires on fire, and everyone gathered
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around the huge fire, like always. No one said a word about the tire
fire, everyone partied.
The next morning, I awoke to the darkness. I thought it was still

dark outside. I had crashed-out inside the trailer with some girl I had
met. When I opened up the trailer door, I was shocked. Everyone and
everything was soot covered, even the bikers that had stayed all
night. They were drunk, blackened, and pissed off. The tires were still
burning and emitting a huge black cloud into the air, covering every
square inch of everything, bikers, bikes, tents, trucks, buildings, and
grass. Nothing was spared. Some of the bikers were having some fun
with it, running around saying they transformed into blacks
overnight.
Mostly, though, everyone was pissed off. Poor Hawkeye had to

clean motorcycle after motorcycle after he put out the fire. Who do
you think had to help him? Yup, me.
We carried bucket after bucket of water from the creek to put

the fire out. When that was done, we had to set up a bike washing
station next to the creek and clean as many as we could. People were
still drunk and raising hell all around us, but we got the job done.
People were even running around naked in the creek, washing off.
After that fiasco was over with, me and Ray got into a fist fight.
It wasn’t much for me, but it ended badly for him.
One evening me, Mom, and Ray were standing around a box-
wood heater in Betty and Jack’s living room. It had just snowed for
the first time around my thirteenth birthday. Jack and some of his
men went to the liquor house to get more Jim Beam. Since Caldwell
was a dry county, no alcohol, they had to go to bootleg houses to
purchase alcohol. The only ones at Betty’s house were me, Mom and
Ray; he was too drunk to go with the others, Betty, and all of us kids.
I don’t usually drink any alcohol, but I was out of pot until I
could get to the compound and see Hawkeye, so I had a red solo cup
filled with Jim Beam and Sun drop soda, to sip on. Standing at the fire,
Mom was to the right of me, and Ray was to the right of her. Mom was
tipsy and turned to do something, when she bumped into me, spilling
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her drink down my right arm and leg. I jumped back and called her a
stupid bitch. Ray pushed Mom aside and punched me in the right side
of my jaw. I came unglued. Normally, I was scared to death of Ray. He
was a big, burly dude, outweighing me by at least fifty pounds and
usually carrying a gun. He was “Sergeant of Arms” for the club, so he
had to be armed to protect his “brothers”. For some reason, he wasn’t
armed this evening.
Immediately after his punch, I lit into his face with my own
punches. I hit him so many times, and so fast, all he could do was hold
onto me by my shirt, trying to keep me at arm’s length. I punched and
punched until he was upside down behind a chair, and I had to bend
down, applying more punches to his already battered face.
Mom and Betty were pulling and tugging on me to get off him.
When I got away from him, he staggered up onto his feet and tried to
come at me, but Betty stopped him, telling us to take our fight
outside. That was fine by me, because I was really feeling myself after
seeing Ray didn’t know how to fight. I went out the front door and he
went out the back door.
When he came around the house, he grabbed a chunk of wood

out of the woodpile on the front porch. Betty tried to take it away
from him and told him to fight like a man. He threw down the wood
and came at me. As he walked towards me, he tried to kick me. I
grabbed his foot and using him as a balance, I kicked him right in the
jaw, knocking him out cold. He fell into the woodpile, moaning. Blood
began pouring out of his mouth as he slid down the pile of wood.
Betty ran between us because she thought I was going to go at

him again, but I wasn’t going to hit him again. I was going to help him
because I could see he was choking on his own blood. Betty and Mom
got to him, and I tried to help them get him into the house, but Mom
didn’t want me near him. They dragged him in the house and put him
on the sofa on his side. Mom kept a rag at his mouth, trying to stop
the bleeding. His jaw was swelling fast.
Betty took me outside onto the back porch and told me to stay
there until Jack got home. I told her I was sorry, and she said not to
worry about it. I was more worried about Jack. I couldn’t beat him if I
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tried. I had seen him fight before, and he was a beast at fighting. Betty
assured me that Jack wouldn’t touch me. She said that she’d tell Jack
how I faced Ray like a man, and how I beat him like one, end of
discussion.
After a while, Jack and the boys came home to find me on the
back porch. Jack could tell something was amiss and asked me what
was up. Betty came out and told him to come inside. After a few
minutes, Jack came outside and asked me to roll up a joint. Since I
didn’t have any, he gave me one of his. I thought he was going to kill
me; I was so scared. Instead, he walked with me down the dirt road
and smoked a joint with me. He told me Betty told him what went
down, and he didn’t blame me at all. He told me I couldn’t live at
Ray’s any longer, and I needed to get my belongings. I was going to
live with him and Betty. I couldn’t believe my luck.
After we came back to the house, Mom and Betty had Ray
loaded up in the car, and they took him to the hospital. I went to Ray’s
and cleared out all my belongings.
I didn’t see Ray or Mom for about a week. Ray came to Jack’s
house for a few minutes, and when he did, I’d go for a walk. I didn’t
want to see him with a mouth full of wires and a face brace. I had
literally kicked his jaw off the hinges. He only had a few jagged teeth
in his mouth, so they had to pierce his gums to implant the wires and
brace to hold his jaw into place. Kicking someone in the jaw with
steel-toed hiking boots will do the trick every time.
A few weeks later, he and I had a sit-down with Jack and

squared away our differences, or so I thought. I still didn’t trust him
and stayed away from him when he was drinking and carrying a gun.
When he was drunk, he’d get ornery and call me outside for a
rematch. Jack and the fellas would bring him in and make me stay
away all the while laughing at him.
Winter turned into springtime again, and another compound

party was set up. Bars were raided, beer and food were stored, other
clubs were called up, and a weekend was set aside to party.
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I helped Hawkeye gather up wood (no tires) for the fire pit, and
we got the grounds ready. That evening became my last night in the
hills.
Everyone was partying, raising hell, and doing what they do,
when Jack got to telling the story of the fight between Ray and me.
We were all around the fire, about forty bikers and then some. Jack
loved to tell raucous stories around the fire, so everyone really
wanted to hear this story. Ray was drunk and hee-hawing like a mule.
He’d get plastered and go into some crazy state of mind where he
acted like a mule braying, hee-hawing, and kicking dirt. As Jack
started to tell how I kicked Ray’s ass all over the living room, Ray was
getting pissed off and looking at me with murder in his eyes. Ray was
walking around the fire hee-hawing and kicking dirt, trying to get
closer to me. Jack had his arm over my shoulder, leading me around
the fire, away from Ray, while laughing and telling the story.
Everyone was laughing at him and mimicking his hee-hawing. It
really was hilarious, but I was very nervous. Ray yelled at Jack to give
him another chance to beat my ass, and everyone else yelled that that
was a good idea. Jack asked me if I wanted to beat Ray’s ass again,
and I said, “No!” I wasn’t wanting a spectacle. Ray called me a pussy
and that changed my mind. I told Jack to take Ray’s gun and knife
from him. Ray gave up his weapons to another biker and stalked
towards me around the fire. I squared off with him, and, once again,
he tried to kick me. I swept his kick aside and hit him in the jaw with
a roundhouse punch. He staggered right into the fire pit, falling in. He
came up and out of the pit screaming like a maniac. Parts of him were
on fire as people tried to put him out. Everyone started laughing their
asses off at him. I was laughing, too. He got even more mad and
charged at me, hee-hawing. As he got within striking distance to me,
all I did was step aside, and pushed him right back into the fire. He
fell in headfirst. He came out screaming again. Ha! His hair and beard
were burning off of him and his clothes were in flames. Some people
knocked him down, rolled him around, and poured beer on him to
put him out. I couldn’t stop laughing.
When he was done burning, he screamed for Jack to let him kill
me. Jack took me to Betty and told her to get me the hell away from
there. We went to Betty’s house and had sex for about an hour. Then,
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Betty drove me back to Hickory, to my Grandma’s house. That ended

my Mountain View experience. It was fun while it lasted.
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Chapter 34
Back at Grandma’s house things were strained. Mom told

Grandma and everyone else that I had attacked her and beat her up
the night I left home and sent May to Grandma’s house, which were
her usual lies. Of course, everyone believed Mom over me or May. I
stayed at Grandma’s only a few weeks when Uncle Jake called and
told me to go to school or move out. I began to search for a place to
stay.
My Uncle Jimmy came to Grandma’s house and decided to let

me live with him and his new family. He married a good-looking
woman who had a young daughter, eleven, and they lived only a few
blocks from Grandma. Uncle Jimmy said I could stay with his family if
I helped with chores around the house. “No problem” I said. Packed
my bags and off we went.
Uncle Jimmy’s home wasn’t too bad, just small. I had to sleep on
the sofa. My only complaint was that the daughter was very young-
minded, very childlike. She was very pretty, but her demeanor made
me want to big brother her, instead of having sex with her. She had
long, curly, brown hair, big doe eyes, and nice skin. She was a really
nice girl, too. She just looked at me like I was her first crush, and I
couldn’t bring myself to harm her in anyway. Anna, my Uncle Jimmy’s
wife, let me know that if I hurt her feelings, she’d “kill me” … I
believed her.
Uncle Jimmy would leave out to drive long-haul rigs

throughout the week and be home by Saturday. He’d plan family
outings for us, and we’d do all sorts of things together. My weekend
chore was to wash his rig and get it ready for the next week’s trip.
During the week, my chores consisted of mowing the grass,

taking out the trash, and helping Anna do her part-time job in the
evenings. She cleaned an office building every evening, seven days a
week. The work wasn’t much, and it made them see I was useful.
Since moving back to Hickory, my buddy, Red, started coming

around. He’d either ride his bike or “borrow” his mom’s car. We’d go
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to the mall and steal cassettes or just play video games. When we had
the car, we’d go everywhere and see everyone.
One day, he came by the house in his mom’s car. He had some
pot and we smoked it with Anna. She drank wine, and liked to smoke
pot, too. She’d chase her daughter outside while we smoked.
Afterwards, Red and I went cruising.
When I came home that evening, me and Anna and her

daughter went to clean up the business. Afterwards, we ate dinner
and then played Yahtzee together. I had a couple of joints I got from
Red and let Anna know. She made her daughter take a shower and
get ready for bed. While her daughter was in the shower, Anna did
something very unexpected. She was sitting across from me, at the
dining room table, when all of a sudden, I felt her foot work its way
between my legs, to my crotch. I looked at her and could tell she was
woozy from drinking too much wine, but I was wanting to see where
this was going. Anna was beautifully sexy in my eyes, but she never
gave me any impression of her liking me like that. I reached down
and started rubbing her foot, thinking that that was what she wanted.
We were making eye contact when she told me she was going to “fuck
me silly” when she put her daughter to bed. By the time Anna put her
daughter to bed, I was ready.
Anna took me into her bedroom, undressed me and had her

way with me. I used every move I had to make her climax over and
over again. We smoked pot in bed and had sex all night long.
The next day, she warned me to never show any signs of our
intimacy in front of her daughter, and she promised more sex. I
agreed.
For a few weeks, this episode went on between us. All week
long, mostly nightly, I had sex with Anna. During the weekend, Uncle
Jimmy had her. No one knew anything.
It all ended by one slipup by me, and one crazy wine-soaked

Anna.
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Red came over and asked if I could go cruising with him. Anna
said, “No problem” as long as I was at her workplace by 5:30 p.m. to
help her clean the business. I agreed and we left. We took off around
3 p.m. and went cruising and smoked some pot. We went all over the
place, just to hang out. After a while, I asked what time it was, but
neither of us had a watch. We pulled into a gas station and found out
it was 5:45 p.m. “Oh shit!” I said. We drove like maniacs to get to her
job site, but she was already done and gone. I knew she’d be pissed.
When we got home, I told Red to leave, and I’d explain to her
our not having a watch. He left. As I stepped into the kitchen, she was
in a screaming fit. Calling me. “A worthless piece of shit” and “a no-
good, ungrateful asshole” I couldn’t believe she was snapping like
that. I tried to explain and apologize, but she wasn’t hearing it. I told
her she was just as bad as Mom, a drunk and a bitch. She grabbed a
cane from the umbrella stand next to the door and attacked me with
it. I grabbed her wrist and twisted it, until she dropped it and I left
the house. She was yelling and screaming about telling my Uncle
Jimmy as soon as he called. I told her, “FUCK YOU, YOU CRAZY BITCH!
Watch what I tell Uncle Jimmy when I see him.” She slammed the
door shut and I never saw her again. I went back to Grandma’s house
and explained that Anna attacked me. Grandma let me move back in.
When Uncle Jimmy came home, he came to see me. Instead of

being mad, he apologized to me and said Anna wanted to apologize,
too. I told him I was alright and would rather stay at Grandma’s. He
ended up divorcing her a year later because she was caught cheating
on him with a younger neighbor. All these years later, I’d love to see
her daughter. I bet she grew up beautifully.
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Chapter 35
I ended up bored to death at Grandma’s. Springtime was in full

bloom, and everyone was at school. I’d ride all over the neighborhood
and various parts of town just to know some of the streets first-hand.
In the evenings, I’d meet up with my buddies and we’d all ride around
looking for something to do. We’d break into a business here or there
to get us some pot money.
One day, I was riding by myself and came upon the Hickory
Recreation Center. They were taking applications for lifeguard
training and jobs. I loved swimming in all the pools and knew what
the lifeguards did all day…they sat in a chair and watched people
swim. Cool job! I went inside and got an application filled out. As soon
as I was done, a manager took me into an office to interview me. I
told him I was sixteen and worked at a steak house for a few months
but didn’t like it. I was out of school because I wasn’t certain if I
wanted to continue with my education at that moment. I lied, again,
and said I had an elderly grandmother I was helping and living with
and wanted to help her with the bills. He liked me and said he’d call
me in a couple of days to see if he had a slot open for the training. He
made it clear that he only needed a couple of lifeguards; he wanted
hard workers, and confident and personable people, too. I assured
him I was right for the job.
At home, I told Grandma about the job and asked her to lie for
me when the manager called. She said she would, and she did. I got
the third spot for the lifeguard training.
Classes started the following Monday, and they lasted all week.
We got the “crash course” because the rec manager needed to open a
couple of the pools and needed us for those spots. I wasn’t
complaining at all. I breezed through the course and got a temporary
certification and lifeguard permit issued by the city of Hickory.
The other two people in the course were both female college
students from the local college, Lenoir-Rhyne. They both looked like
the butch type of lesbians, but I was later proven wrong. One went to
work at the “big” pool just outside Longview, North Carolina. Me and
Ellen, El for short, got sent to the Ivy Weaver pool, a few blocks from
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Red’s house. It was the exact same park where Red and I robbed the
concession stand all of the time. It was tiny, but I loved it.
I started out working the highchair on Saturday morning at 9

a.m. By noon, the place was packed with a lot of my friends. HA!
Everyone came to see me “working”. I was loving it; all the attention
was on me and El. There were some fine young girls there as well. I
had my pick of them.
I was still having sex with Kathy and Red’s sister, but
eventually expanded to a whole other set of girls. I was meeting them
everywhere. Red, my constant companion, and confidant, was always
laughing at how I handled these girls. I’d flirt with other girls, right in
front of whatever girl I was with. In that instant, I knew whether I
could get sex from a new girl or not. The girl I was with would get
mad, but then act like nothing ever happened. I thought, “Well, why
not flirt and let the one know she could be replaced!” It, somehow,
kept them all coming back. Even knowing I was messing around; they
all came back to me. It tickled Red and my friends.
After a week or so, at the pool, I met a fine, little hottie named
Monica. She was five foot tall and so very sexy. Blonde hair, light
brown eyes and built like a swimsuit model at sixteen years old. She
was sashaying into the pool, and I knew I had to have her. The only
thing that I didn’t know was she had me in her sights, too. A friend of
hers told her about me, and she came to see me with her own eyes. I
was toned and slightly built from the sawmill work and bike riding,
plus I was tanned all over. My long brown hair was fading into
blonde, as well. I became a magnet for the girls; the new “Hot guy” of
the neighborhood. I, also, became a dog later on. HA!
Anyway, Monica showed up, and I introduced myself on one of

the fifteen-minute breaks we forced on the kids every hour. During
the break, El and I would dive in and swim until the break was over. I
swam right up to Monica and asked her out. She agreed and we met
up that night at my favorite dating place, Godfather’s pizza. Her aunt
dropped her off. We ate pizza and then saw a movie at the adjoining
Cinema Plaza. We ended up kissing and touching during the whole
movie. Afterwards, when her aunt came to get her, we set up a
morning meet at the pool an hour earlier than it opened.
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The next morning, I was there when her aunt dropped her off.
We took a walk around the park and got to know each other more. I
led her to an open part of the park that sat on a hill but was actually
hidden from the houses and neighborhood surrounding it. You had to
be at a certain part of the passing road to actually see us. It was a
perfect spot for outdoor sex. We wasted no time and did what we set
out to accomplish. She was a little nympho, too, and I was smiling.
Every day after work, I’d ride to her aunt’s house to see her.
She lived at her aunt’s because she said her, and her parents didn’t
get along. I could relate. Red would ride along sometimes, too.
At Monica’s house, we’d go into her bedroom to hang out.

When Monica and I got down and dirty, Red would go in the living
room with the aunt. The aunt knew we were fucking, but never said a
word to either one of us. She was cool about it.
We dated most of the summer, but I was still having sex behind
her back. I couldn’t help myself. Two, three, sometimes four times a
day I’d have sex with some female. Sometimes I’d have multiple
partners in one day. I was becoming a nymph-whore myself.
Monica wanted to constantly brand me all over my body with

hickeys. I’d stop her almost every time she’d start one and she’d get
mad. I’d tell her they were tacky, and I didn’t want them on me, but
she knew I didn’t want other girls to see them.
One evening, Red and I went to Monica’s to hang out. Her aunt
had to go out for a while, so Monica and I went straight to her
bedroom and began fucking. During sex, she tried to give me a hickey
on my neck. I pulled away and told her not to do that. She wrapped
her legs around me, and we went back to fucking. She kissed her way
back to my neck and then latched on like a vampire. She sucked, and
pulled, and pawed until I could break her grip on me. I pushed her
across the bed and got up to see what she did to my neck. There was
a huge purple spot on my neck, and I was pissed. She was laying there
naked, laughing at me.
I got my clothes on and headed for the door. She started
screaming and whining for me to come back. She was sorry, she said.
I kept going. Red ran outside as I got on my bike, looking at us, and
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wondering just what the hell was happening. Monica was on the front
porch with a sheet wrapped around her crying and pleading for me to
come back. I said nothing as I got on my bike and left.
Red caught up to me and asked what happened. He laughed at

me when I told him what went down. He saw my neck and laughed
like fiend. I had to laugh, too, but I was serious about leaving Monica.
She was getting too demanding, and I wasn’t wanting to be tied down.
This was my perfect opportunity to get rid of her.
When I got back to Grandma’s that evening, the phone was

ringing off the hook. Grandma told me that Monica called ten times
already and I had better talk to her before she unplugs the phone. I
answered the phone to a crying and begging Monica. She said she
loved me and was sorry. She’d never do it again. For me to please,
please come see her. I broke up with her and hung up the phone. She
called right back. I told her I was going to unplug the phone and for
her to have a nice life. She became unglued and started cursing me
and telling me she was two months pregnant. I laughed at her. I told
her none of the other ten girls I was fucking were pregnant, so she
was lying. She screamed that she would have her older brothers kick
my ass the next day, and I told her to have them bring their own first
aid kits and hung up on her. I unplugged the phone, and we had a
quiet night at Grandma’s house.
The next day, I went and got Red and told him about Monica’s
threat. We knew she had two older brothers, but we weren’t scared,
we were prepared. I loved to fight, so I was anticipating kicking some
ass. Red was, too. We just didn’t know how many “brothers” were
going to show. We got to the pool early and only had to wait a few
minutes before Monica’s aunt’s car pulled up. Her aunt was driving,
and Monica was in the passenger seat. Two guys got out of the back
of the car. Monica got out and told her brothers I called them pussies,
liars, and said I’d beat their asses, not a lie. They looked sure of
themselves, but they didn’t stand a chance. I casually walked up to
the closest brother and kicked him in the face. He fell into the car, and
I continued to rain punches and kicks all over him. All he could do
was ball up and hold on. Red ran around the car to the other brother
and put him in some sort of wrestling move, snapping his arm. He lay
on the ground, screaming as loud as Monica and her aunt. We backed
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off and told Monica to get more “brothers”. They got the two
wounded guys in the car and peeled out of there. I didn’t see Monica
again until the following year. Good Riddance!
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Chapter 36
I finished out the summer and had the time of my life. I met so
many girls and women, that it wasn’t funny. El even broke down and
had sex with me one day. She was the biggest girl I ever had sex with
up to that day. I thought she was gay because I’d catch her looking at
girls in skimpy bikinis, but she said it was because she was jealous of
their bodies. I used to tease her about orgasms until one day she
called my bluff. Our manager left early, so it was just her and I to
close down the pool. She gave me all the hell I wanted on a bench in
the men’s locker room. She knew me as the neighborhood
whore/dog, so she made me wear a rubber. The sex was great, but
not all that exciting. We only had sex that one time, but we stayed
good friends.
When the pool closed, I decided to go in search of another job.

Breaking into businesses was getting boring, and I was used to
collecting a bi-weekly paycheck, so I wanted that to continue.
Besides, Uncle Jake said I had to either work or move out. I liked
staying at Grandma’s house because the only restriction I had was to
pay my way. Not a problem. I stayed out of Grandma’s hair and didn’t
cause any trouble with Uncle Rob, who continuously lived there and
thought he owned the place.
I went back to the steakhouse that I used to work at, and the
manager gave me another job. This time I was to be a bus boy only.
No sweat! Everyone who was working there the year before was
happy to see me. There were some new people, too, and I got to know
them quickly, especially the hostess.
She was nineteen years old and extremely gorgeous. I became

fascinated by her face, body, and smile. Her voice even melted me.
Her name was Shelly, and she was going to our local Lenoir-Rhyne
college. She was a rich girl but chose to work part-time to give herself
some work experience. All the guys in the restaurant were in lust
over her, especially the assistant manager. She dressed in dresses
and skirts that accented every curve she had. She drove a convertible
Mercedes which was painted hot pink. She loved attention, too. I
wanted to give her all I had.
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Every day, I was at work early just in hopes of seeing her

sooner. On her days off, it was as if it were a gloomy, rainy day and
the place sucked to work at. When she was there, it was bright and
sunny, and everyone was in good spirits, except for the other girls.
They were all jealous of Shelly.
During the winter months, I kept ogling Shelly like a lost puppy.
I still did my usual rounds and had a couple of the neighborhood girls,
and a mom, to keep me satisfied. I even had a girlfriend; her name
was Mindy, and she lived a few houses away from Grandma. But
Shelly was the ultimate conquest for me.
Mindy was an ugly duckling that turned into a beautiful swan

over the summer. She used to be scrawny, pale, wear braces and
glasses, and was very shy. She’d ride the bus at the stop I used to go
to, and I hardly ever paid her any attention, except to tease her with
the other kids. After summer vacation, she became a knock-out. No
braces, no glasses, boobs, and tighter clothes. I instantly had to have
her. It wasn’t hard for me to get her because she “secretly” had a
crush on me. I knew it for a long time, so I used that to my advantage.
Yes, I was a major dog.
I ended up being her first sexual experience, and she told all of
her friends. That led me to having sex with them, too, especially her
best friend Christie. She was a babe but was always stuck-up to me
because I was lower-class, and she was rich. After Mindy told her of
my sexual nature, she was all over me to see if it was true. I ended up
making Christie cry during sex. She had never experienced an
orgasm, and it scared her. Crazy!
Anyway, I’d make my rounds each week, Kathy, Mindy, Christie,

and eventually, Mindy’s mom. Mindy’s mom caught us in bed one day
and got really pissed at us. Mindy got grounded, and I was told to
never come back around again. Yeah, right! After a couple days of
sneaking around with Mindy, I decided to go directly to “Mom” and
see what was up. When Mindy was in school, I knocked on her door
and her mom answered wearing a bathrobe, curlers, and holding a
mixed drink in her hand. It was only about 10 a.m. and she was
already tipsy. She asked what I wanted, and I apologized for getting
Mindy into trouble. I told her I respected her and her rules, but I
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really missed Mindy. She wasn’t wrong, but it was no big deal to me. I
just wanted to have my cake back. The icing was everywhere.
Her mom invited me in and got herself another drink. I sat on

the sofa, watching the body parts jiggling around in that bathrobe.
She noticed me looking at her, and I saw she was thinking of
something. She stood up and opened her robe and asked me if I liked
her body better than her daughters. I told her the truth…her body
was way more beautiful than her daughters. She reached for my
hand and led me to her bedroom where I performed oral sex on her
until she was shaking all over. She wanted me to fuck her, but I had
already jacked off during her orgasms. She was that hot to me. She
told me to never tell Mindy or her husband and said for me to please
not get Mindy pregnant. I told her I wouldn’t, and she lifted Mindy’s
punishment immediately. I had sex with her anytime I chose after
that.
Back at the steakhouse, I was on my way to Shelly’s heart. I

gave her a note, one day, telling her I was in love with her. She pulled
me aside and told me I was very cute, but “not in her league”. It about
broke my heart, but I kept my eye on her. She was always smiling at
me whenever she saw me, so my hopes were still high.
One day, the assistant manager, a real jackass, pulled me into

his office and told me to stay away from Shelly. He told me she was
his girlfriend, and she had told him about my “little crush” on her. It
pissed me off something fierce. All that day I was trying to figure out
a way to tell Shelly my feelings of her betraying me with the assistant
manager, but I just couldn’t do it. For days, I sulked around work and
barely said two words to Shelly. She noticed the change in me and
stopped me to ask what was wrong. I told her to go and ask her
boyfriend. She said she didn’t have a boyfriend. I told her what the
assistant manager said, and she snapped. She went into his office and
cussed him out. He came out after her when she stormed out of his
office, and then called me in to tell me I was fired. I went out the back
door, got on my bike, wheeled myself to his car, and stabbed the
back-tire flat. I rode home wondering what I was going to do next.
That evening, the manager called and asked me why I wasn’t at

work. I explained everything to him, and he told me I wasn’t fired,
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and I’d better be back at work the next afternoon. I said I’d be there
and felt much better.
The next day was Shelly’s birthday. I went to the local L.T.D
florist and bought a dozen roses and a big heart shaped box of
chocolates. I rode my bike to work, balancing my gift. I hid the roses
and candy inside the meat cooler until Shelly came in to work. The
assistant manager called me into his office and told me he didn’t like
snitches, and I would be fired as soon as he could do it. I told him I’d
be sure to tell that threat to the manager as soon as he came to work.
He chased me out of his office.
I worked until Shelly came to work. I quickly got her and

brought her back to the storage area and gave her the roses and
candy. She immediately cried, hugged me, and kissed me on the
cheek. I was shaking all over. Heaven kissed me. She took her roses
and candy out into the restaurant to her workstation. Everyone asked
her who gave them to her, and she told them her “boyfriend”. I was
walking on clouds all night. The waiters and cooks kept giving me
pats on the back and high fives, and the other waitresses kept looking
at me wondering what Shelly saw in me. To them I was the “bus boy”.
They saw me as “white trash” and not “datable.” Ha!
After work, Shelly told me to meet her at her car. I wheeled my

bike over to her Mercedes and she told me to put the bike in the
trunk. I got in the passenger side, and we drove off. She said she
really appreciated me thinking of her on her birthday since no one
else did. I told her I couldn’t help but think of her all the time. She
reached over and held my hand on our drive.
We ended up at a park close to Lenoir Rhyne College. We got

out and walked around as she told me about her life and future plans.
She was prepping herself to run her father’s coffee business in
Florida. Lenoir-Rhyne had the best math and business courses
around the nation, she said. I told her about me not having any plans
other than surviving each day. It was hard to lie to her about my age,
but if she knew I was only thirteen instead of sixteen, she’d want
nothing to do with me.
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We got to a swing set, and I pushed her for a while, loving life.
When we got done with that, she got up and kissed me long and hard.
We kissed and petted for a while, and she led me to a clearing in the
dark part of the park. We got down in the grass and had slow, loving
sex. She tasted as good as she looked. I was ecstatic. She told me she
wanted to be my girlfriend and didn’t care who knew it.
When she dropped me off at Grandma’s house, I was high on

love and life. This beautiful girl, who was rich and in college, wanted
me as her boyfriend! Ha! I quit all my other girls, even Kathy, while I
was with her.
Everything was great at work for a while. The assistant

manager stayed away from me but kept eyeballing me menacingly
since Shelly chose me as her boyfriend. Everyone at work, guys
mostly, treated me like a celebrity, and even some of the waitresses
who disliked me before, now talked to me.
At home, things were alright, except Uncle Rob kept acting like
a bitch. He’d give Grandma money on Friday and “borrow” it back on
Monday. He’d spend most of his money at the local bar buying his
“friends” drinks. He tried “borrowing” some of the money I gave
Grandma, but she refused him. I told Grandma not to give him any of
the money I gave her for groceries. Uncle Rob got pissed off at me, but
I didn’t care.
After a few more weeks at work, the manager got moved to

another restaurant. The assistant manager became manager, so I
guess you know I got fired. EVERYONE got upset and complained, but
no one wanted to get fired, too, so they didn’t grumble too loudly.
Shelly walked into his office, slapped him across the face, and quit.
She didn’t need the job, anyway; she just wanted something to do.
For about two weeks, I went around filling out applications, but
I wasn’t really feeling like working. I’d spend most days waiting on
Shelly to finish her classes and then sneak into her all-girl dorm for
sex. I went back to doing B & E’s with my friends, so most days were
free. As long as I kept giving Grandma money, all was well at home.
Shelly never asked me where I got my money, even though she knew
I wasn’t working. After some time, Shelly told me she was going back
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to Florida when school closed that semester. I was heartbroken, but

felt it was time for me to move on. I was there the day she loaded up
her pink Mercedes and left. A sad day for me, but I’d see her again in
the future.
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Chapter 37
I got into the same routines as before…sleep all day, go out in

the afternoons and evenings to see my girls, my friends, and then
steal. During this time, I had acquired a dog. A neighbor’s Red Chow,
“Mr. Green”, would roam our neighborhood like he owned it. I used to
stop and pet him and watch him do what I was doing: have sex with
any and all females, except his were all female dogs. Anyway, my
Grandma’s black lab got pregnant and had a litter of pups. Out of six
pups, only one was red coated with a black tongue. I kept that one,
and Grandma gave away the rest.
When the momma dog had the puppies, she had them next to a
decline in the back yard. Five of six pups were at the bottom of the
hill, while the red one stayed on top. When I found them, I named the
red one, “King” for “king of the hill”.
As it grew up, and it grew fast, it followed me everywhere I

went. Whether I was at work, or stealing, King would be there. When
he got tired of waiting, he’d just head on home. It didn’t matter how
far away from home I was; he’d find his way home. I loved this dog
very much.
My friends and I stumbled into an operation that would put a

lot of money into our hands. Red and I used to go to an old guy’s
house to buy joints. He had all sorts of keys setting everywhere and I
had noticed a bullet shell on a key ring. I asked the old guy about it,
and he told me it was a homemade key for a drink machine at the
local A&P Supermarket. I asked him how that could be, and he
explained how a person could have an empty .38 shell and fit it up to
the key slot on the drink machines with the rounded key slots. You
tapped it hard with something like a hammer, and wedge it into the
slot, creating a key. Then you got a pair of pliers and got a good grip
of the shell and turned it like a “key” until it opened the machine.
Well, I had to try this new method at once. He gave me a few empty
shells and, that night, Red and I went to work.
It worked just like he said it would. We opened up three

machines in no time at all. We couldn’t believe our luck. We got every
coin from each machine and as many of our favorite sodas as we
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could carry. I liked Mountain Dew and Red liked, Dr. Pepper. Now all
we needed was more thirty-eight shells.
We went downtown and got “Old Jim”, a local bum, to go into

the Army-Navy store to buy a case of thirty-eight shells. He screwed
up and bought loaded shells at first, and we had to send him back
inside to buy empty ones. He got a box of fifty, so that meant we had a
lot of machines to open.
After some quick thinking on my part, I got a permanent

marker and marked each shell with its useful location. The first three
I labeled A&P one, two, and three. The rest we labeled as we went. I
had to figure out a way to keep them in some sort of order other than
carrying around a box of shells everywhere. I took them into
Grandma’s basement and drilled a small hole in the base of each shell
to slide them on a huge keyring. Fifteen “keys” fit on one keyring, so I
had to get a few more rings.
We ended up with pillowcases full of change stacked in Red’s

bedroom. We’d take as many quarters as we could carry and go out
and buy whatever we needed, but it was a hassle carrying around all
that change.
Red asked his mom how we could get rid of some “loose”
change, and she suggested we take it to the bank. We could use their
change-counter and change-roller to bundle them up and exchange
the rolls for cash. DUH! Why didn’t we think of that? HA! We told his
mom we were working part-time for the Hickory Daily Record
loading their newspaper machines. She thought it was great that we
were “working”.
We took our bags of change to one bank and got the teller to
show us how to use the coin separator. We worked on the coins for
over an hour and got close to two hundred in cash from our haul. It
was on after that. We made daily use of the coin separator at two
different banks. We didn’t want the banks to get suspicious. We told
them the exact same thing we told Red’s mom.
We had a couple of rings full of thirty-eight shells, marked for

various stores and machines. It became our “business” each and
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every night to go do a circuit of machines. We knew it was just a

matter of time before they put some surveillance on a machine, so
we’d skip some for a few nights, as well as do some of our own
surveillance before we hit a machine.
Each and every night, King would run with us. That dog would
have followed me to Hell if I went there.
One night, Red and I rolled over to a combination laundry mat

and car wash. We hit the soda machines, chip machines, washers, and
dryers, and even the soap dispenser machines—any machine with
easy access. The carwash machines weren’t that easy, so we usually
left them alone. On this night, we just finished hitting all the laundry
machines and were leaving by way of the carwash. As we rolled
through it, I noticed King go into a door that was the
office/maintenance room for the carwash. I rode over and noticed the
door was wide open. I called for Red to come over and see what I
saw…. keys hanging on a key rack. I got off my bike and went into the
office. I had Red watch out for the police.
While in there, I took all the keys off the rack and tossed them
to Red. He went and checked out which machine they opened, while I
looked through the drawers and shelves.
What really got my attention was the dollar change machine

hanging just outside the door.
On the outside, it had a bar running across the front covering

the keyhole. The bar was locked by a huge padlock, so we were never
able to bust into it. On the inside of the room was the back of the
machine. The machine sat in a recess cut out into the wall. Two bars
were running across the back of the machine; they were bolted to the
wall holding the machine into place. I went to work trying to figure a
way to get into the machine. I knew there was tons of cash in it.
Red tried every key he had on the big padlock to no avail. I

decided to undo the bolts on the inside of the wall to get the machine
inside for easy access to the round keyhole. My trusty vice-grips did
the job easily. When I got the bolts out, I had Red push the machine
from the outside, so it’d fall into my arms. It fell alright, but I couldn’t
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hold it. That thing weighed a ton. I realized at the last second that I
wasn’t going to be able to hold it, so I jumped back and let it hit the
floor. BAM! CLANG! SLAM! It was loud. We hurriedly carried the
machine away from the room and into some bushes. We got on our
bikes and hauled ass away from there.
Our “plan” was to get to my uncle’s pickup; he had an old Chevy

that could be turned on with a screwdriver. We’d come back and get
the money machine and take it back to Grandma’s basement to open
it. I didn’t have any more thirty-eight shells to “key” it with, so we
needed a place to stash it until we could go and buy a box of shells.
Our plan had all sorts of holes in it, but it was the best we had at the
moment.
When we got to Grandma’s house, we pushed Uncle Rob’s truck

down the road until we could crank it up. Then we loaded our bikes,
and King, into the truck bed and went back to the carwash.
I drove around the carwash at least three times looking for the
police and didn’t see any at all. We parked the truck next to the field
with the bushes that the machine was hidden in and got to work. Red
grabbed the one end of the machine, and I grabbed the other. No
sooner than we got it lifted, cop cars came from every direction.
Needless to say, Red and I took off running. Red went one way, and I
the other.
I shot across the field. About halfway across it, I fell into a ditch.
I stretched out in the ditch and pulled weeds and trash on top of me.
Cops were everywhere with flashlights yelling to each other the
direction we ran. King came into the ditch with me, I tried to shoo
him away, but he thought it was a game, or something. Stupid dog, he
laid in the ditch facing me, panting, and trying to lick my face. I heard
one cop tell another to “look for the dog” A cop fell into the ditch
right behind King, startling him and causing him to jump up and start
barking. I got up and ran. I didn’t get far when I was tackled and
handcuffed. King was snarling at the cop who had me, and I had to
call him off before he bit the cop. I told King to go home, and he took
off.
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I was loaded into the cop car and hauled into the police station.
I knew I was in big time trouble.
They got me fingerprinted, photographed, and booked with

breaking and entering and destruction of property. I had to wait until
morning to see what my bond would be. They asked me about my
“co-defendant”, and I played dumb.
As it started getting daylight, in came Red in cuffs. They put

him in the cell next to me. He said he ran through back yards and hid
in a creek until it started to get daylight. A cop pulled up next to him
and got out, aiming a gun at him. He was too afraid to run. Besides, he
thought he was safe. He failed to realize they got a good look at him
and knew they were looking for a two hundred-pound, red-haired
kid.
When he got to use the phone, he called his mom. She was
pissed off, but more worried than anything.
At our bond hearing, we were released on our own recognizant,

and to our parents. I was released to Uncle Rob. He cussed me out all
over the place for stealing his truck and getting it impounded. He had
to pay a hundred dollars to get it out, which I gladly paid him back
from my cash-stash at Grandma’s. I had a hidey-hole that had close to
two thousand dollars in it.
Everyone was mad as hell at me. Red’s mom didn’t want him
hanging out with me, but Red wasn’t hearing that crap. I was his best
friend and even getting into trouble wouldn’t stop that. I had to
tighten up my act a bit and stay home more often. Uncle Jake gave me
fair warning that I’d not have another chance. He’d send me to a boy’s
home if I acted out again. I made sure I was home by night fall and
chilled out on stealing for a while.
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Chapter 38
Right after Christmas I bought a Harley.
Uncle Rob had come home one day and told Grandma that he
was going to buy a Harley-Davidson. They argued back and forth
about it: where was he getting the money, and who was selling it, and
why do you want a motorcycle? Grandma wasn’t with Uncle Rob on
him buying a bike. Uncle Rob was a Harley poser; he had all sorts of
Harley gear: t-shirts, vests, boots, and even a patch for his glass eye.
He’d go to bars every weekend dressed in his Harley gear and tell lie
after lie about his Harley lifestyle that was just a figment of his
pathological-lying imagination. To him, buying a Harley was the
ultimate score to fulfill his dream of being a true, blue biker.
He told Grandma that he was getting it from a guy who lived a

few blocks away. I knew who he was talking about. The guy wanted a
thousand dollars for it and Uncle Rob was going to pay him a hundred
dollars a week for ten weeks. He and Grandma argued and argued. I
got on my bike and went to the guy who owned the bike.
When I pulled up to his house, the bike was in the front yard. It
was a nice-looking Chopper, painted dark purple with a long, raked
front end. Sure enough, it had a “for sale” sign on it asking for a
thousand dollars. I knocked on the door and the dude answered. I
asked him if he’d sell his bike to me. He asked me if I had a thousand
dollars and I said, “Hell yeah!” He said he’d sell it to anyone with the
money. I said I’d be right back and pedaled for home.
Uncle Rob and Grandma had quit arguing. I went directly to my

stash spot and got my money. I ran back to the guy’s house, and he
signed over the title to a 1954 Pan head. He showed me everything I
had to know about it, and even gave me a cardboard “Lost tag” sign to
put on the back. He gave me a half-shell helmet and I put it on. I
cranked up the bike with a couple of tough kicks. Talk about loud! It
had straight pipes. Since it was a homemade Chopper, it didn’t have
any front brakes, back only. I took it for a few rides up and down his
street to get the feel for it, then I parked it back in his yard. I asked
him if he’d please drive it to my house in the morning. I wanted to
surprise my Uncle Rob. The guy figured I bought it for Rob, so I didn’t
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let him think anything different. I rode home and had an easy night
watching T.V.
The next morning, after Uncle Rob and Grandma went to work
and Jim and Dan went to school, the guy rode up into the front yard
on my Harley. He gave me the key and the helmet and said to take it
easy. His wife had followed him over, so they drove away.
I got on the bike and took off for Animal’s house. He was
tripping to see me on a full-fledged Harley and couldn’t believe I
bought it. My other friends thought I was insane to be riding it
around with a “lost tag” sign on it, but I didn’t care. What could be
done to me?
I rode around to all my friend’s houses and then to some girl’s

houses who I knew were home. At lunch time, I stopped by the high
school to show off in front of the guys there. Everyone was in awe
and just shaking their heads. “I was crazy” was the majority vote. Ha!
I ate it up. I rode the bike home and waited for Uncle Rob.
When he walked into the yard, he smiled. He had sold his truck
awhile back and was either walking or riding a bike to work these
days. I had several bikes in Grandma’s basement. Anyway, he saw the
bike and went straight to it. I got up and walked over and asked him
how he liked my new motorcycle. He looked at me as if I were
kidding him. He told me to give him the key and quit playing with
him. I took the title out of my pocket and showed it to him. He got
really pissed off and started calling me all kinds of names. Grandma
came outside to stop him from cursing in her yard. She didn’t want
the neighbors to think she had a crazy family. Ha! Uncle Rob told her
that I’d bought the motorcycle out from underneath him. She asked
me how I bought the bike, and I told her I still had money from
working at the restaurant job. Of course, she didn’t believe me and
told me to give Uncle Rob the bike. I told him I’d sell it to him when I
was done having fun with it. He calmed down a bit and asked me to
take it for a spin. Thinking he must already know how to ride a
motorcycle; I gave him the key and the helmet. It was the least I could
do for him.
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He got on the bike, and it took him about five tries to start it up.
He got seated, put it in gear, and shot straight across the road into a
field full of walnut and pecan trees. I used to mow that field for my
neighbor, and I knew that at the bottom sat a small camper that the
neighbor let his grandkids use as a playhouse. Uncle Rob was headed
straight for it. Somehow, he managed to lay the bike down about ten
feet from the camper. I ran into the field, cussing his sorry ass the
whole way. He got up off the ground, checking himself for injuries. I
ran straight for my bike. Uncle Rob was saying, “It jumped into
second gear and shot off like a rocket!” The dumbass: he couldn’t
understand that he had no idea of what he just said. STUPID! We got
the bike back to the front yard and had to clean some dirt and grass
out of some tight spots. Uncle Rob begged me to let him ride it again. I
refused this time. He pulled out his wallet and gave me ten dollars to
ride it again. Well, how could I resist ten dollars?
We put the bike on the road, facing up the street. He climbed

on, kicked it on and eased the clutch out in first gear. Off he went. He
went right and left up the road. Being a Chopper, it was harder to
steer than a normal bike. Uncle Rob was learning this lesson the hard
way. I was just praying he didn’t destroy it. I couldn’t care less if he
died or not, as long as my bike was safe. He rounded the curve up the
road and disappeared. I awaited the crash sound; thank God none
came.
About fifteen minutes went by before he came roaring down

the road. He passed Grandma’s house yelling, “NO BRAKES!” I yelled
back, “DOWN SHIFT you stupid son-of-a-bitch!”
At the end of the road was a dead end. The asphalt turns into
gravel, and for about twenty yards there are railroad posts buried
vertically across the road. I just knew Uncle Rob was going to kill
himself and destroy my bike.
Somehow, maybe divine intervention again, he got the brakes

to slow down enough to downshift. I saw the bike fish-tail two or
three times before he got to the gravel road. He laid the bike down,
again, on the gravel.
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I ran down the road calling him all sorts of dumbasses and
idiots. He was visibly shaken. He said he had no brakes. I told him he
had back brakes, only. You have to downshift to slow down.
We got my bike back to Grandma’s, and I got it cleaned up
again. When I got it cleaned, I took off. I left Uncle Rob standing in
Grandma’s front yard, watching me tear up the road and riding a
Harley like it’s supposed to be done.
Later that night, Uncle Rob asked me to take him to his favorite
bar. He wanted me to let him drive it up to the bar, like it was his
bike. I refused; I told him he’d never drive my bike again. He then
asked me to just take him to the bar and let him tell his buddies that
it was his bike. Ha! After he offered me ten dollars, I agreed to go with
him on his lying mission.
That Friday, he got dressed up in his Harley gear and I took him
to his little hole-in-the-wall beer joint. When we pulled up, I got off
the bike and waited for him to get his buddies. About four, long-
haired, bearded guys came out with Rob to look at the bike. He was
explaining how he only paid a thousand dollars for it. He told the
guys that I was his nephew, and I was going to “borrow” the bike for
the evening. Ha! I got on the bike and left them in a roar.
I rode the hell out of that Harley for about six months. Then, I
had Uncle Rob get a loan from the credit union for a thousand dollars
and sold it to him. I didn’t trust him to pay me a hundred a week. He
became a full-fledged Harley owner after that, but not for too long.
The motor blew up in two months.
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Chapter 39
Springtime was coming around the corner, so I got Grandma to

lend me the mower and gas can so I could go and earn some money. I
still had enough stashed away to keep giving her grocery money
every other week, but it was dwindling away. I wanted to get out and
earn some money for a change.
I began my day by going to a few neighbor’s houses that I’d cut

for before. The first one told me they hired a lawn guy to do their
entire yard and didn’t need my services this year. “Okay!” I thought.
No biggie, on to the next house. They told me the exact same thing.
Now I was wondering if they all knew about my arrest and didn’t
trust me to cut their grass. All sorts of negative ideas were swarming
in my head.
I rode my bicycle up the road to the next house. This old lady
let me cut her yard but told me that an old black man was going door
to door offering to do all sorts of yard work for next to the price I was
charging just to cut grass. No sooner had she told me then an old
pick-up truck rolled past, driven by an elderly black guy. She pointed
him out to me, and told me he was really nice and polite, but she
didn’t want to take away my chance at earning some money, too, so
she stuck with me. I thanked her profusely and cut her yard for the
fifteen dollars she usually paid me.
I got done mowing and moved on to my next customer. She,

too, hired the old man. Only two of my customers let me cut their
yard. It seems the old man came around a week earlier and got all my
customers for very cheap work. For twenty dollars, he was mowing,
edging, and clearing off driveways and sidewalks. That’s a lot of work,
but a good deal. I was pissed off at the neighbors, at the old man, at
everyone.
I finished my second yard, got paid, and went home. I told

Grandma what happened, and she said it wasn’t the old guy’s fault. It
was mine and the neighbors. I should have gotten there last week,
too. Plus, the neighbors should have asked me if I’d do the same as
the old man was selling. I would have, too, but ‘The early bird gets the
worm.’ Now that Grandma gave me some truth, I was mad as hell.
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Someone had to pay for my losing up to six yards to cut, meaning my

pot money.
Later that day, I went to see Red. His mom was still pissed
about our B & E episode, but Red was really the boss of his house.
This kid was as old as I was, but way bigger in body. His mom, dad,
and siblings were all scrawny and puny, where Red was stocky,
muscular, and just big. Making Red angry had its effects at home.
I had arrived at his house, one day, to find him in a rage. He had
his brother all beat to hell on the living room floor, his sister
cowering in the corner, and his mom trying to hold his dad while his
dad slobbered all over her trying to get at Red. Red looked like a
trapped bear, but not really trapped. He reached around his mom to
grab his dad and man-handled his dad up onto his shoulders. Always
the wrestling fan, he spun and slung his dad into a wall. His dad
crumbled onto the floor, moaning, and slobbering unintelligible
words. Red’s mom jumped onto his back long enough for him to flip
her into the same wall and on top of his dad. In seconds, Red had
decimated his family. I had to grab Red and pull him out of there.
After that, his family tried to appease Red. His temper tantrums were
famously dangerous.
He once broke Mike’s leg in an attempt to show off his figure-

four-leg-lock move. His brother kept crying that he didn’t want to
play with Red, but Red wasn’t to be denied. He grabbed his
whimpering brother and folded him up like a pretzel. SNAP! Red
laughed at him and left him lying on the floor.
Another time he was at the bus stop, and a boy was teasing him
about his red hair. Red scooped him up and slammed him, headfirst,
into the pavement, busting the kid’s head open. As the blood flowed,
Red told him his hair was red, now, too. He laughed like a psycho. You
see why I liked Red?
Anyway, I got Red, and we rode around thinking about my

jobless plight. I wanted to make my neighbors pay for not hiring me.
We smoked a couple of joints and a great idea hit me…. Let’s cost
them more money by breaking something they’d HAVE to fix.
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Late that night, I went to Grandma’s and got something Red,

and I could use on our adventure. We went up and down the street
doing our dastardly deeds, laughing all the way. When we got done,
we went to the park and laughed some more. Later on, I went home
and went to bed.
The next morning, I got up early and got Grandma’s

lawnmower and set out to find some more yards to mow. As I rode up
the street and rounded the curve that turned into a long
straightaway, I stopped my bike. All up and down Grandma’s street
there were cops and wreckers lined up the road. I didn’t know that
Hickory had that many tow services in town. People were all outside,
milling around and pissed off. I pedaled my bike up the street and felt
like I was running a gauntlet, all eyes on me. A cop was talking to a
neighbor, standing by his car, and pointing at me, looking angry.
The cop stepped away from the neighbor and called me over to
him. He asked me my name, and I told him. He then asked me if I was
the one who flattened all these tires up and down the street. I asked
him why I would do such a thing and the neighbor said it was because
they didn’t hire me this year. The cop asked me again if I did it, but I
told him I had better things to do than flatten a lot of car tires. I was
on my way to get some more customers, as it was. He let me go and I
rode off with the glare of all the neighbor’s evil eyes upon me. Ha!
What a sight! Up and down the whole street, cars were being
tended to; they were trying to fix pinholes or were changing tires.
Red and I flattened every tire of every neighbor that denied me work.
Most cars were parked in the street; those in the driveways had the
most trouble. Ha! It was beautiful to see all those people glaring at me
in an angry mood—served them right.
I went about my search and found a couple of people to take

pity on me and give me fifteen dollars to cut their yard. I sweated for
a few hours and got paid and went home. On the ride back down the
street I lived on; I met the old black man who undercut my operation.
He turned out to be a really nice guy and even offered to let me help
him, sometimes. I politely refused and went on home.
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Later that day I was heading to Red’s house when that same
cop pulled me over. He made me get off my bike and he searched me.
He said he was looking for an ice pick. That’s what popped forty-eight
tires on twelve vehicles, and he said he believed I was the culprit. I
got pissed off and told him to stop harassing me or I’d report his ass
to his boss. He gave me a warning and let me go.
I got to Red’s house just as mad as I was when I was talking to

the cop. I told Red we had one more mission to complete.
That night, we got on our bikes with an ice pick for each of us.
We went downtown to have some fun with the police cars.
We hid our bikes next to the A&P Supermarket and commando-

crawled from there across the railroad tracks, and up the side of a
ditch. We were right next to the parking lot that held police cruisers,
which were across the street. We laid low for about fifteen minutes
just to see how the traffic was coming in and out of the police station.
There wasn’t much at all since it was late, about 1 a.m.
I decided to be the first one to strike. I snuck out of the ditch

and crept to the back of a cop car and plunged the ice pick into the
back tire, then the other back tire. I hit three cars before Red gave me
a low whistle letting me know that someone was coming out of the
police station. I dove back into the ditch and waited to see if the cop
got into one of the cars I just left. He did! When it pulled away, you
could hear the “hiss”, “hiss”, “hiss” of the tire as it rolled past us, air
seeping out of the back tires. Ha! We were quietly laughing in the
ditch.
Red went next, and got two cars done, then I got the last two.
The cop that harassed me, Officer Maynard, got something special for
his car number, fifty-two: I flattened all four of his tires, and took the
ice pick and scraped in the word “Pig” in his car door. Harass me, will
ya?! We fled the scene, got stoned, and went on home.
The next day it was all over the local news stations, “ICE PICK
BANDIT STRIKES AGAIN.” The story told of the neighbor’s cars
getting vandalized, then the cop cars. It was said the cops had a lead
they were looking into. UH-OH!
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I went and got Grandma’s two ice picks and took them into the
basement. At first, I was going to hide them, but then I realized when
the cops came and wanted to search for them, it’d look suspicious to
everyone, including Grandma, that they were gone. She knows she
has two of them, so I did the next best thing…I sanded all the
evidence I could off the picks. I sanded the tines as well as the
handles. I took them back upstairs and washed them and placed them
back in Grandma’s knife drawer among her many knives.
It wasn’t long before Officer Maynard came to my door. He told

Grandma about the recent flattened tires and his suspicions that I
was the one who did it. He asked Grandma if she had any ice picks
and Grandma said, “Yes”. She went and got them and gave them to
him. She didn’t comment on the fact that both picks looked brand
new. She gave them to him and asked him what he was going to do
next. He said he would take them and have them checked to see if
they could determine if they were the ones used on the tires. If not,
he’d bring them back. If so, he’d come back and get me. I glared at
him as he left.
Grandma asked me if I was the one doing that to everyone’s

tires, and I lied to her saying, “NO”. I kind of felt bad lying to her, but
then I remembered all the times that she called May and me liars for
telling her that Mom beat us. That sorry feeling left just as quickly as
it came.
Nothing came from the incident, except for having “MAD DOG”
Maynard on my ass. I gave him that name because he became
relentless in chasing me and my gang. He always followed me when
he saw me out and about on my bike, or he’d stop me and search me
just to harass me. I ended up flattening his car, number fifty-two, tires
two more times after that. Each time, he paid me a visit with threats.
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Chapter 40
Since my mowing business was slow, we went back to

robberies and B & E’s. Downtown Hickory was right for me and my
friends. There were all sorts of stores and businesses with rooftop
openings.
During the winter months, Red and I went in advance and

scouted out places we’d hit. We’d go up on the roof and look for
doors or hatches to be opened and entered. We found a few doors,
easily opened, above the local sporting goods store, Woolworths, and
the movie theater.
On our first trip, we hit the sporting goods store. Red and I
couldn’t believe our good fortune. We got new tennis shoes,
sweatpants, tops, socks, underwear, and any money left in the
register.
The next night was Woolworth’s. We took so much stuff; it was

hard for us to carry it all. We made three trips to our stash spot in the
woods before we were satisfied. I took records, model cars, paint,
glue, and anything else I took a fancy to. We couldn’t get into the safe,
so we didn’t get any cash.
At the theater, we simply stole a hefty bag full of candy. Then,

we watched a movie. By 5 a.m. we were out of there, laughing all the
way home. We hit these stores numerous times in the future, but
never too close together.
As soon as spring came into full bloom, it was time for me to go

back to work at the community pool. Yee-Haw!
I was given my exact same job in the exact same chair. My co-
worker, El, was back, too. The manager told me he had had a few
complaints of me fighting the year before, and I explained to him
about Monica siccing her brothers on me for breaking up with her. I
also explained that she may try to start trouble for me if she shows
up. He understood my plight and said if she did show up, and got out
of hand, he’d ban her from the pool. Cool!
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As luck would have it, yes, she showed up on the very first day.
She strutted in, shaking her fine ass for all the world to see, and
placed her towel next to my tower. I said hello to her to be courteous,
but I was no way looking to settle our differences. She tried to talk to
me, and I told her I had no hard feelings towards her, but I didn’t
really feel like talking to her, either. She got mad and stalked off.
She came back with the manager. He walked up to me and

asked me if I called her a lil’ whore. Ha! I said, “No sir! But I’d like you
to meet Monica!” He said, “Oh…that girl?!” I said, “Yep!” He turned to
her and told her if she didn’t leave me alone to do my job, he’d have
her banned from the pool. She got beat red and started screaming at
me about being a piece of shit and a son-of-a-bitch and so on. The
manager told her to get her belongings and leave the premises.
Classic!!
She got her stuff and stomped outside. She went to the side of
the fence, on the outside, close to my stand and kept on harassing me.
The manager had to threaten her with calling the cops if she didn’t
leave.
The next day she was back, but the manager refused to let her
in. My manager came to me and told me about a position in a bigger
pool was available if I was interested. He wanted me to stay with him,
but he could see that she was going to cause more trouble in the
future. If I wanted, he would call the other pool and get me put on the
tower, there. It didn’t take a second for me to make up my mind. I
said I’d love to go.
The other pool was bigger, with more people, girls, and it was
out in the country. I’d have to ride about ten miles to work, but that
was nothing to me. I’d be rid of Monica and have access to different
girls.
The next day, I took off for work a lot earlier than usual to see
just how long it took me. It only took me about an hour to get there.
After getting settled in and meeting everyone I’d be working

with, I got in my chair and hung out. The day was progressing
nicely…. beautiful girls in tiny bikinis and no hassles. Everyone was
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playing and having fun, and I even had a couple of girls in full flirt
mode. Then, Monica showed up!
She came strutting in with that look on her face that said,
“Yeah, asshole, you thought you could hide from me?” UN-FUCKING-
BELIVABLE! What was unbelievable was what was trailing her. What
was behind her was the most beautiful girl my eyes ever saw. She
was taller than Monica, with darker hair, dark eyes, and a full,
womanly figure. Absolutely jaw-dropping. She followed Monica right
up to my tower. Monica made some comment about my trying to
have all the smarts by switching pools, but I was tongue-tied. I asked
Monica who her friend was, totally dissing Monica and her statement.
She introduced me as “Tommy, the asshole I told you all about!” Ha!
Her name was Christina.
When our eyes locked, it was love at first sight for me. She
smiled at me, and I melted. I told her not to pay any attention to the
disgruntled ex, and that got another smile. Monica could see that
Christina and I were locked onto each other, so she kept trying to
interfere by asking me stupid questions about our past. I told her if
she didn’t behave herself, I’d get her banned from this pool, too. She
got mad and stalked off. I leaned down and introduced myself, again,
to Christina by taking her hand and shaking it and saying, “Hello,
Gorgeous! My name is Tommy.” She blushed and shook my hand,
telling me, again, that her name was Christina. That began a whole
new reality for me.
I had never felt love before, not from family (except from
Grandpa), nor another person, that made me feel like I was feeling
that day. I felt happy about my life. My world was great, and nothing
could hurt it.
I asked her to go out with me and she asked me about Monica. I

told her that Monica wasn’t any factor in my life. That she was a
straight-up stalker, and I was done with her as of last year. That
whatever Monica tells her has to be a straight-up lie and the only way
for her, Christina, to believe me is to find out for herself. She thought
about it for a while, and then agreed to go out with me. Ha! Be still my
heart.
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When Monica heard about it, she snapped. She accused

Christina of stealing her “boyfriend” and I had to let her know, again,
that I quit being her boyfriend the day before I kicked her brother’s
ass. She got mad and left. Christina laughed and said she seen what I
meant by Monica being a stalker. She said I was all Monica talked
about. “Tommy this” and “Tommy that”. I explained the relationship
we had was all based on her nymph needs. That she was crazy and
clingy, and I was glad to be rid of her.
We made our first date for later that evening at Godfather’s

Pizza, and then we’d see a movie. I explained I didn’t drive because I
had no car. She didn’t ask my age and I was guessing Monica told her
I was “sixteen”. I told her I’d meet her there. She agreed and went to
find Monica. Christina drove them to the pool, so Monica had to wait
on Christina to even leave. Watching her walk away was like
watching the hottest swimsuit model. She was awesomely fine, but
very humble about it. I was in love.
That evening was awesome. We met at Godfathers, ate pizza,

and talked about who we were, and saw a movie. Afterwards, I
walked her to her car and got a good long kiss. She offered to drive
me and my bike to Grandma’s, but being ashamed of who I was, I
politely refused, and promised to call her as soon as I got home.
Back at Grandma’s, we talked for hours. She told me all about

her life. Her dad was a sergeant in the Army in South Carolina. Her
mom and dad were divorced, so she came to Hilderbran, my old
hometown, to visit her mom and brother. She lived with her dad
because she didn’t want to change schools when her mom relocated
to North Carolina. Her mom was remarried to a good ole biker, and
they had a duplex next door to Monica’s mom and dad. She didn’t like
Monica, but she didn’t know anyone in North Carolina, so she took
Monica up on her invitation to go to the pool. I asked her if she was
glad she went, and she said she was. I was beaming with happiness.
Yeah, I know, love is sappy! Ha!
Every day that she could, she’d be at the pool. Everyone got
word that she was now my girlfriend, so the other “studs” stayed
away. One or two got cocky and I had to stomp them to push the
issue, but mostly we were left alone. Monica came a few times, and it
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ate her up that Christina and I were hugging, kissing, and making
faces at each other all the time. I was even treating Monica like a
stepsister, and she hated that just as bad.
After the pool closed, I’d go to Christina’s house and hang out;
it became my daily routine. We’d hang out on the front porch and just
chill out together. Her mom and dad, and even her brother, liked me.
They’d invite me to dinner almost every night. Before midnight,
Christina’s mom would suggest taking me home, but, always prideful,
I’d ride my bike instead. I’d ride home elated.
During the month or so we’d been together, we never got past

second base. She said she wasn’t going to have sex before marriage,
and I just had to deal with it. Well, we did lots of other things that
didn’t require me to take her virginity. I was in love, and even sex was
no big deal to me. I even quit doing all the other girls, Kathy included.
I had it bad for Christina; that’s all there was to it.
The house that her mom lived in was a split house turned into a
duplex. The neighbors had left for a long vacation and had Christina’s
mom keep an eye on their cat, so Christina and I would go into their
apartment and watch T.V., listen to the radio, and make out. It
became our lil’ hide away. Even Red would come over and hang out
with us. Christina smoked pot, too, so we’d get stoned and talk trash
to each other just for laughs.
One day, Christina asked me if I could find a friend for Monica. I

asked her if she was kidding. She said Monica has been coming over
on a daily basis trying to hang out with her, but she didn’t like
Monica. Christina was too nice to tell Monica to get lost, so she
figured if I could hook her up with a friend of mine, she’d leave us
alone. Well, it just so happened that I did have a friend. His name was
Davey; he was the guy I used to fish with; the grandson who helped
me put the water moccasin on his grandpa’s doorstep that caused the
crazy heart attack. So, that night I called up Davey and asked him if he
was interested in a lil’, fine, nymphomaniac. Of course, he said, “Hell
yeah!” and we made plans to hook up the next morning.
I met Davey on his bicycle at the elementary school close to

Grandma’s house, and off we went to the pool. I got Davey in for free,
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and we hung out until Christina and Monica showed up. When he saw
Monica, he smiled. “She’s hot,” he said. I introduced them and they hit
it off immediately. Christina put her towel down at the tower while
Monica and Davey went elsewhere. Monica gave me a mean glare as
she walked away with Davey.
The day went by pretty nicely. Monica and Davey had fun in the
pool and left Christina and me alone. I “worked”, and Christina
sunbathed.
That evening, we all went to Christina’s house. Monica took

Davey by the hand, and they left. Christina and I sat on the front
porch swing and talked and cuddled. We were glad that Monica and
Davey got along so well, but I knew it was because Monica was trying
to make me jealous, as well as her being a nympho. She was taking
Davey to have sex with her, no doubt in my mind.
Later that evening, Davey and I rode home. He was elated for
being hooked up with Monica. She threw herself on Davey as soon as
they were alone. He said he couldn’t believe I’d toss something like
her aside, and I warned him that she was a vengeful, spiteful, lil’ bitch,
and for him to be careful. I told him about her two brothers, too. (I
had yet to see either one of them; they were staying with some uncle
for the summer.) He and I talked about the girls, some, and I told him
I hadn’t had sex with Christina at all, just some heavy-petting and
some oral. He told me there was no way I was with a girl and not
fucking her. I assured him; with Christina, it was much deeper than
just sex. He didn’t believe me and laughed it off, saying he’d only give
us another week before I broke down and chased some pussy. I told
him he was wrong and ended that conversation.
The next day, no one showed up at the pool. Usually, Christina

and her brother came to hang out, but I was by myself. I called
Christina’s and her mom said she wasn’t feeling well and for me to
call her the next day. The next morning, I rode straight to Christina’s
house. She was sitting on the front porch swing when I rode up. I saw
that she was crying, so I immediately ran to her to see why. She
shoved me away and told me to leave. I was shocked. “Why?” I asked.
She asked me if I told Davey that I would leave her if she didn’t give
me pussy soon. My mind went to kill mode. I told her I never said that
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to Davey or anybody else. She said she didn’t believe me. I asked her
where this bullshit was coming from, and she told me that Monica
told her Davey called her last night and told her I told him that.
Monica raced right over to tell Christina. I told Christina I never said a
thing like that, and if she truly believed that shit, then I’d leave. She
said she didn’t know what to believe. On that, I got on my bike and
rode away. She yelled at me to come back and talk, but I kept on
going, I had a mission to fulfill.
I stopped at Red’s house and got him up, telling him what my
plan was. He was all for it. He got up, brushed his teeth, and out the
door we went directly to Davey’s house.
When we got there, I had Red wait outside while I went in to

get Davey. I found Davey asleep in his bed. His family was gone
somewhere, so that was good for what I had to do. I brought Red
along because Davey had two older brothers.
I went into Davey’s room and woke him up. I told him to get up
and come smoke a joint with Red and me outside. He told me to give
him a minute and he’d be right there. I went out on the front porch to
wait on him.
After a few minutes, he came out wearing his sunglasses. When

he leaned onto the porch railing, I struck; I smashed him right
between the eyes, smashing his sunglasses into his face. He did a
head-over-heels somersault over the porch railing onto the ground. I
jumped over the railing and began a good fifteen-minute ass-
stomping on Davey. I beat him from in front of his yard all the way
around his house to the driveway. When he tried to crawl away, I’d
kick him in the face. It ended with Red pulling me off of him, telling
me I was killing him. I got up off of him and caught my breath. Davey
was crying like a lil’ baby asking me, “Why, Why, Why?” I told him
why. He spoke the best he could; his mouth was smashed up pretty
badly, telling me he only commented to Monica that he thought I
wouldn’t last much longer with Christina since she refused to give me
any pussy. He swore that was all he said that Monica lied to Christina.
We got on our bikes and Red and I rode away. I didn’t feel sorry for
Davey.
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We rode to Grandma’s house. Upon getting there, Grandma told

me that Christina had called a dozen times, already, and for me to call
her back; I did. Christina said she just punched Monica in the face
because Monica came over screaming and cursing about my having
beat Davey’s ass. Monica told her Davey didn’t say what she said he
said. Monica made it up to get Christina to leave me, so she could get
me back. Christina’s mom said Christina got red hot and began
pummeling Monica. They had to pull Christina off of her so that
Monica could run away. Ha! I felt even more in love with this girl. She
begged me to come to her house and apologized for what she said
earlier. She said she loved me and wanted me to be with her. She
didn’t have to say anymore, Red and I took off for Hilderbran.
When we got there, Christina came running out into the yard,
throwing her arms around me. She kept apologizing and kissing me
while I tried to calm her down. Her mom and brother came outside to
tell me how Christina beat up Monica. Red gave them a play-by-play
on how I destroyed Davey. For the rest of the day, we went to the
pool, Christina’s family included. I was in love again. We made love
that night! LOVE!
This lil’ bit of heaven lasted for me until July fourth. All of my
friends were down in the dumps because I had been neglecting them
throughout the summer. They didn’t do any B & Es without my help,
so they were all broke and bored.
One of my friends, A.C., told the fellas that his mom and dad
were going away for July 4th and wanted to know if we wanted to
have a party at his house. Just our crew. I talked to Christina, and she
said I should spend some time with my friends. She was going to the
lake with her family for a cookout. I was invited, but everyone agreed
that it’d be good for me to hang out with my friends. Oh, how fate
works in mysterious ways!
The party started at 5 p.m. We all piled into A.C.’s living room.
The Fly, Tokyo, Black Bobby, Red and then myself. We began to
smoke pot and drink liquor and drop acid. Tokyo found each of us
two hits of microdot. A.C. got his brother, James, to buy us the liquor
and I, as always, supplied the pot. We partied, talked shit, and
jammed out to A.C.’s stereo. By midnight, we were baked and out of
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everything. Our buzzes were wearing off, and we had no idea how to
keep them going.
A.C. spoke up and said his neighbor sold pot! That perked us
up. We asked him to go ask the neighbor if he’d sell us a couple of
joints and he said his neighbor was on vacation. We all got onto him
about bringing his neighbor up in the first place when he replied that
we should break into his house and steal his pot. That made perfect
sense to us, then.
Stoned, drunk, and still slightly high from the acid, we all went
next door to A.C.’s neighbor’s house. As this motley crew’s leader, I
broke into the back door so we could enter. A small dog began
running around and wagging its tail. It was happy to see us. We went
about searching the house looking for anything to steal, especially
pot.
After about twenty minutes, I found the stash in the master

bedroom. It was only a couple of ounces; it was all we were after. In
the living room, everyone was acting crazy. They were eating food,
drinking beer and liquor they found, and were tearing up the place:
ripping up the sofa and chairs, tearing down pictures, smashing the
floor model T.V., they even ransacked the kitchen cabinets, freezer,
and refrigerator. Stuff tossed everywhere. Red and I split up the pot
and gave each guy a small amount. We took the jewelry and split it
up, too.
Feeling tired and bored with the way things were progressing,
Red and I told the guys we were leaving. We got our bikes and went
separate ways. At Grandma’s, I put the pillowcase filled with the
stolen items next to my bed on the floor. I passed out.
I was awakened by “Mad Dog Maynard”. He was standing next

to my bed with the pillowcase in his hand. He informed me that I was
under arrest. He handcuffed me and led me out of the house.
Grandma was yelling at me saying I was going to a boy’s home. Uncle
Rob didn’t have anything to say, he just smiled and shook his head,
like he thought it was funny and sad at the same time.
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At the police station, I was booked for a B & E and possession of

stolen goods. Maynard told me that the neighbors had another
neighbor keeping watch on the empty house and feeding the dog.
When the neighbor went over, early that morning, she found the
disaster and called the cops. When the cops got there, the old lady
said she didn’t go into the house due to not knowing whether the
burglars were still inside or not. When the police went in they found
the place destroyed. The dog was hanging by a necktie from the living
room ceiling fan. The only reason I wasn’t being charged with that
was because Tokyo confessed to it.
When the police realized they were handling a B & E, they

looked at A.C.’s brother, James. He ran around a bunch of skinhead
punk rockers, and the police knew of them, too. They awoke A.C.
looking for James. James had just come home at daylight. He denied
having anything to do with the B & E and instantly turned on his
brother. James knew we had a party. James told his brother if he
knew anything, he’d better spill his guts. The police were fixing to
take James to jail. A.C. gave in and told the cops that it was my idea,
and I was the one who did all the damage. He was so stupid that he
ended up snitching on everyone else, too, himself included. He
couldn’t keep his story straight.
Before long, everyone was rounded up. I was easy to find

because Mad Dog knew where I lived. He was elated to put me in jail.
Red’s mom bonded him out. We all had a five-thousand-dollar

bond. Everyone got bonded out, but me. I couldn’t call anyone collect
due to their phones not accepting collect calls. Only Grandma. She
said she couldn’t bond me out because Uncle Jake had all the
paperwork concerning the house. I’d have to wait for her to talk to
him. That lasted two full weeks. Grandma kept telling me that Uncle
Jake wasn’t coming to help her bond me out, that I was going to a
boy’s home. She said she told Christina what I had done, and
Christina was upset. I was weak with sadness upon hearing that. I
couldn’t talk to Christina because her mom’s phone couldn’t accept
collect calls. I couldn’t write to her because I didn’t know her address.
Grandma couldn’t read or write, so that ended that. Uncle Rob kept
saying he wasn’t helping a criminal at all, the piece of shit!
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For two whole weeks, I sat in jail and mourned over my

stupidity and losses. I lost my girl, my job, and my freedom because of
a dumbass party. My “friends” snitched on me, and my family sucked.
I hated my life and wished I could end it.
Finally, Uncle Jake came to see me. He said he didn’t want to

bond me out, but Grandma told him to. He told me if I stayed at
Grandma’s house, I had to go back to school when it opened. I’d have
agreed to be a celibate priest just to get out of jail. He got me out and
drove me back to Grandma’s.
As soon as I got to the house, I called Christina’s house; no one

answered. I kept calling for about two hours. I asked Uncle Rob to
take me to Christina’s, but he cried about not having gas in his truck. I
ran to my stash spot and got him ten dollars, that got him moving. Off
we went to Christina’s.
When we got there, I went to the back door and knocked.

Christina’s mom saw me, gave me a hug, and told me that Christina
was on a plane bound for South Carolina; at that moment, you could
have stabbed me in the gut, and I would’ve felt no pain. I was
stunned. She said Christina was to leave the week before but
prolonged it because she was waiting on me. Her mom said Christina
loved me and wanted me to know that she’d call me as soon as her
plane landed. Uncle Rob drove me home.
I waited on a phone call for about an hour. I was in a state of

total depression and wasn’t thinking clearly at all. I went and got my
bike out of the basement and took off riding. I ended up at the A&P
Supermarket. I went inside and bought a coke and a bottle of Sleep E-
Z sleeping pills. I rode back to the house and asked Grandma if
Christina had called yet, but she hadn’t. Feeling like Christina
wouldn’t call because she hated me for being a thief, I went to the
park and ate the whole bottle of sleeping pills. I sat on a bench, drank
my coke, and ate my pills, and felt sorry for myself. After a while, I
dozed off.
I awoke, three days later, in a hospital. I had tubes running out

of me in all directions. A nurse came in and saw that I was awake, so
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she got the doctor. The doctor told me I was “lucky” to be alive. Yeah,
right; I didn’t feel lucky.
A police officer came to talk to me and questioned me as to why

I wanted to kill myself, and I told him to get lost. They even had a
shrink talk to me. I chased him off as well. No one said too much to
me because they were afraid I’d try to kill myself again. I had thought
about it, too.
I asked Grandma who found me, and she said that about thirty
minutes after I left the house, Christina called. She said she’d call back
every half hour until I got home. Grandma sent Dan to go look for me.
He told her that he saw me head towards to park. He came and found
me asleep. He saw the bottle of Sleep-E-Z sitting next to me, empty,
and raced to tell Grandma. They called an ambulance and saved me.
FATE! Ha!
I got ahold of Christina and we both cried our eyes out. She
made me promise that I wouldn’t try to kill myself again. We talked
and talked about our future plans, her coming back next summer and
maybe even not going back to South Carolina. She gave me hope. We
made a lot of promises and declarations, but my ways weren’t strong
enough to hold on. A.C. went to another town to live for fear of me…I
hate a snitch!
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Chapter 41
I held out at Grandma’s house because Uncle Jake saw that I

was “disturbed”, as he put it. Having tried killing myself got everyone
worried for my well-being; but in reality, I was stable as could be.
Knowing I had an easy escape if I ever needed it was satisfying. All I
had to do, if there was a next time, was go somewhere where no one
could find me, and I could do whatever I chose. But I wasn’t thinking
like that anymore. I was trying to figure out what to do about going
back to school.
I would be turning fifteen in October and in the 9 th grade for the

second year. I failed the grade just because I never went. I’m sure if
I’d have gone, even a few times, I’d have been graduated to the 10 th,
but I really didn’t care at all. I wasn’t wanting to go to school. I
wanted to work or steal, or both. Sitting in boring school, listening to
teacher’s drone on and on about subjects that were easy for me to
understand wasn’t something that I wanted to do. The only person
pushing me back to school was Uncle Jake. No one else cared. Well,
except for Kathy. She thought it was a good idea for me to go. I said I
would give it a try.
Going back to school was crazy to me. It was like stepping into
a place that you just knew you didn’t belong, and you became wary of
everyone around you. The only friends I had in school were Red and
Mindy, the girl that lived up the street from Grandma’s, and my
cousin Angel. Red was glad to see me. Mindy acted like I was her
boyfriend because all of the girls wanted to know who I was. Angel
was happy to see me but shied away because of Red’s and my
reputations. She was a cheerleader and didn’t want to be seen with
the poor kids.
As school progressed through the week, I met a couple of dudes

I thought I’d like. One was a skinny lil’ Italian dude named Rusty. His
buddy was a half breed, half black and half white, named Nate. They
dressed crazily, and that’s what drew me to them. They wore
pleather pants with spikes, bandanas on their wrists and crazy
bracelets with spikes. I asked them what kind of music they listened
to, and they said punk rock. Cool!
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Me, Red, Nate, and Rusty started hanging out during breaks,
and even sometimes after school. We smoked pot together and had a
lot of the same philosophies. Red lived across town, so he’d ride the
bus and have to go home each evening, but Nate and Rusty lived close
to school, so we’d all three walk home. I’d have my bike, so I’d just
push it.
They introduced to me to Black Flag, The Dead Kennedys, and

Johnny Rotten. I liked the thrash sound, but I was more into heavy-
metal and hard rock.
We’d go to Rusty’s apartment after school to hang out, because

his mom worked second shift, 3-11 p.m., and no dad was in sight.
Nate had the same charisma as I did for the ladies. Girls flocked to us.
We’d have fun meeting new girls and passing them around. Rusty got
sloppy-thirds or the ugly ones.
There was a nightclub called, “Yesterdays” that let teens have

Thursday night to go and dance and mingle. Nate and I loved this
place because we’d get all dressed up and act crazy. We’d attract all
sorts of girls with our looks and antics. What we were after was one
thing: Sex, Sex, and more Sex! We got laid by so many girls in a couple
of months, it wasn’t funny. We had to be mean to a lot of the girls just
to chase them away from us after we had them and tossed them
aside. We were complete assholes.
I was stealing like a madman to fund my activities. My friends

were glad I was back. We met a guy named Robby who bought all our
stereo equipment and any and all the record albums we could find.
He lived only a couple of blocks from Grandma and loved to smoke
pot and jam out on his stereo. He lived in a basement, one-room
apartment, below an elderly lady who was deaf. For as loud as he
played hi stereo equipment, she had to be deaf.
I had these two lives going at the same time. During the day, I’d
hang out with Nate and Rusty just to chase girls. Some evenings, I’d
hang out with them at Rusty’s place. Other evenings, I was out
stealing with my friends and hanging out with Robby.
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Nate and I would really go at it with these girls. It became an

obsession for him to outdo me, and he’d try to have sex with every
girl we knew. Most of the girls I didn’t give a crap about; we’d fuck
them and toss them aside. There was one or two that we’d keep to
ourselves because they were either too nice to share, or we had some
feelings for them and didn’t want to hurt them anymore than they
were already hurt because they knew we were dogs and were
cheating on them. One of the girls was named Amy.
I met Amy, a senior at another high school, at teen night. She

was short, sexy, and a dancer. She was going to work at Carowinds
Theme Park in Charlotte as a costume designer when she graduated;
it was her dream. Anyway, she was in love/lust with me, but she kept
on teasing Nate about the “black side” of his family, making
comments on his penis size. I enjoyed Amy’s humor, but she was a
space case, and if Nate really wanted to, he could have finessed some
sex out of her. I wanted to try and keep her out of his paws. But it
wasn’t meant to be.
Nate and I had made a pact to respect each other’s wishes

when it came to who-not-to-try, concerning our girls. Nate broke our
pact. And pissed me off.
On a Thursday night, I was to meet Amy at Yesterdays. I had

started hanging out with a punk rocker named James, A.C.’s brother.
James looked like Red except he had blonde hair, same build,
and same mentality. He loved to fight, too. He also had a job and a car.
James and I went to Yesterdays to see our girls. His was coming
out later on. Amy was supposed to be there when I got there, but she
wasn’t. We waited about thirty minutes and then drove over to
Rusty’s house to see if they were coming. To my surprise, Amy’s car
was parked at Rusty’s apartment. I got out of James car and knocked
on the door. Loud music was jamming inside, so I tried the knob. It
was locked. I knocked louder. The door was opened by one of Nate’s
friends, Antwan: a tall, skinny, black kid from school. Antwan asked
me what I wanted. I looked past him and saw a black girl on the sofa
trying to cover herself with a sheet. I told him to step aside while I
went and got my girlfriend. He said he couldn’t do that. Then, I
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punched him in the face, knocking him back into the apartment. The
black girl screamed bloody murder. I ran into the apartment,
stepping over Antwan. He collapsed when I hit him, and his nose was
pouring blood. I yelled out Amy’s name. I heard a bumping noise
upstairs and went up the stairs. Rusty and Nate were both standing
there with no shirts on. I tried to run up the stairs, but Antwan had
gotten up and grabbed me around my waist, yelling for Nate and
Rusty to come help him. At that moment, James came in with a ball
bat and hit Antwan in the back. Once again, he collapsed. I ran for the
stairs. By the time I got up the stairs, Nate and Rusty had climbed out
a back window onto the back-porch roof. I last saw them running
across back yards.
I found Amy sitting on the edge of a Rusty’s bed, trying to put

her clothes back on. She was drunk, but not that drunk. I asked her if
it was good, and she could only say she was sorry. I just shook my
head and went downstairs.
I told James to go get another ball bat out of the car. Being punk
rockers meant having to battle rednecks and anyone else who didn’t
like us. We loved ball bats as weapons. Besides, there were no laws
about possessing a bat.
I told Antwan and his girl to leave, and me and James went to
work on destroying Rusty’s apartment. We smashed everything. Amy
ran out of the house screaming that we were crazy. It didn’t take but
about five minutes and we were done. We loaded up our ball bats and
went back to Yesterdays to party.
That night, when I got home, Rusty called to threaten me with

the police. He said he was going to put me in jail and beat my ass
when he saw me again. I had no doubt as to him calling the police on
me, but as to kicking my ass…yes, I had doubts. I told him to meet me
in the mall area of school and bring his lil’ gang with him. He and Nate
had started hanging with some black kids because Prince and Purple
Rain was all the rage. Nate and Rusty were popularity-whores and
floated to whatever was popular at the time. He’d said he’d be there,
waiting on me, if I wasn’t in jail. I, then, called Red and a few bigger
football/kickboxing/wrestler friends who I knew. They all said they’d
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be in the mall area, bright and early, and acting nonchalant. I didn’t
want Nate and Rusty to know I had some backup.
The next morning, I got to school a bit early. Nate and Rusty
were already there. They had about five dudes with them, but when I
looked around and saw about ten of my friends standing around…no
problem!
Rusty came strolling up to me saying, “It’s on, motherfucker!”

Ha! I hit him right in the nose. Then I got him by his ears and twisted
him down to the floor. I put a knee to his chest and began to
slap/punch him all about his face. All he could do was try and block
my blows, but I timed my slap/blows perfectly. Then he started
yelling that I was going to jail. Ha!
I glanced up and saw a circle around me. The dudes I called had
called their friends, too, and as soon as I took off on Rusty they
encircled us, not letting Rusty’s friends through. I looked back down
at Rusty and smiled. I hit him again and again. The next thing I knew;
I was being grabbed. I didn’t know who it was, so I swung my right
arm backwards and elbowed a teacher right in the head. He fell on his
ass, holding his nose. I got off Rusty, and the crowd parted to let more
teachers and staff through. The principal told me to follow him to his
office while the school nurse looked over Rusty and the teacher.
The principal asked me what happened, and I told him it wasn’t

any of his business. He told me to tell that to the police when they
arrived. I had to sit in his office until the police showed up to make
sense of the incident.
When the cop talked to Rusty, he had told him that I blatantly
attacked him. When the cop asked me what took place, I told him it
was over a girl. The cop told me that was what someone else told him.
Apparently, other people gave their story, too. The cop asked the
teacher if he was pressing any charges, and he declined. The
principal, realizing it was just a fight over a girl, just suspended me
for three days with a warning of expulsion if I had any more fights in
his school. My record was atrocious.
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When I was led out of the office, instead of going out the front
door like the cop did, I went out into the mall area again. The side
door leads to the bike rack, so I had to go that way. There were
people milling around, here and there, and I got a quick chance to
thank some of my friends who had my back. As I was walking out the
vestibule doors, there stood Nate with his back to me. He had some
girl penned in by the wall, talking to her. I walked up to him, tapped
him on the shoulder, and punched him in the face as soon as he
turned and saw it was me. As soon as he dropped to the ground, I
started kicking him. The girl ran screaming for help. After a few well-
placed kicks, I looked over my shoulder and saw a bunch of people
coming through the vestibule doors. They looked black to me, so I ran
down the steps leading to the parking lot and took off across the lot.
As I ran, weaving in and out of cars and looking over my shoulders
for any pursuers, a red Mercury Capri 5.0 pulled up, and a kid yelled
for me to get in. I got in.
The kid turned out to be a sophomore by the name of Billy. He

was sixteen and was in his car smoking a joint when he saw me tear
into Nate. When I took off running, he decided to come get me and
help me get away. God bless him. Ha!
We drove around and he smoked a couple of joints with me,

telling me he had never seen anyone beat up two guys in one
morning. I told him the longer he got to know Tommy Kaos, the
easier it is to see such things happen. He explained who he was, and I
did the same. He was Italian, hated school, didn’t work, and was a
mama’s boy. His dad owned a fish restaurant in Taylorsville, and his
mom was a manager at Kmart in the Hickory Plaza. They lived in
Taylorsville, just outside of Hickory, “Way out in the boonies,” he
liked to say. In time, he became my next best friend.
I didn’t tell Grandma that I got suspended from school, but she
found out anyway. The principal called her and told her I was
expelled for the rest of the year for jumping on Nate five minutes
after being suspended for beating up Rusty. I was banished back to
alternate school, which I refused to go back to. I told Grandma I
would go back to the alternate school just to shut her up.
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By day, I’d meet Billy at the park, and we’d go cruising and
smoke pot. I’d case places that I planned to rob, and Billy thought I
was the coolest thing. He never knew a rogue, and my habits were
exciting to him. He had lived a sheltered life until he turned sixteen
and was given a brand-new car. Now we could roam, and roam we
did.
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Chapter 42
Whenever Billy couldn’t come around, or he had to show up for

school, I’d go over to Robby’s basement apartment. He worked
second shift for Hanes Subsidiary Hosiery Mill, running some type of
machine. I’d come over about 9 a.m. and wake him up, and we’d
smoke pot, listen to some good heavy metal, and I’d watch him play
guitar to the music.
One morning, I was coming up the street to Robby’s place and a

long-haired, bearded dude was outside washing his black 442
Oldsmobile in his front yard. I stopped and commented on his
beautiful car. The guy introduced himself as Bruce and asked me if I
smoked pot. Ha! “Of course, I do!” I replied. He invited me into his
apartment to meet his wife and to smoke a couple of bowls.
His wife was an ugly, lil’ woman named Tina. She made up for
her ugliness with a fine body. From the neck down, she was built.
They lived in a duplex with two young children.
Bruce got out a brown paper bag full of homegrown sense.

After smoking a couple of bowls, I was good and stoned. He asked if I
had many friends, and I said that I did. He asked me to sell some pot,
and he’d make it worth my efforts. He gave me a quarter ounce and
told me to go smoke it with my friends. He said he would sell it in any
amount we wanted, from a joint to as many pounds as we could buy.
It was a good deal to me, so I agreed to do it and went to Robby’s.
From Robby’s apartment, we could see Bruce’s duplex. I

explained what occurred at Bruce’s to Robby and smoked some of the
pot. Robby sent me back to Bruce to buy a quarter for himself. The
price was very cheap, so I assured Bruce that I’d be able to sell a lot of
his pot easily. He told me he’d give me good deals, and that satisfied
me.
For a couple of weeks, I sold a lot of Bruce’s pot. Every time I

came over to get some, he’d want to smoke with me. I’d do a few
bowls and nonchalantly glance at his wife running around the
apartment in a pair of skimpy shorts and see-thru tops. She was fine
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as could be, except for her face and teeth, but I couldn’t help myself
from visualizing myself having sex with her.
One day, as I was purchasing a quarter ounce from Bruce for a

friend, Bruce told me he wanted to have a party for me and my
friends, those of us who had spent money on his product. He said he
was going to make a huge cooler full of P.J. (P.J. is a homemade punch
using fruit punch, mixed, diced fruit, and Ever Clear. Very potent
stuff.) and a quarter pound of pot for us to smoke on. I thought that
was great. I asked him if we should bring girls with us and he said,
“No, just us guys!” I thought it was kind of strange, but who was I to
argue? Free P.J. and free pot! He told me the party would be that
Friday evening, and I was only to bring my closest friends. I agreed
and went about my business.
That Friday, me, Black Bobby, Billy, Red, and “The Fly” went to
Bruce’s place. Robby couldn’t make it due to having to work. Bruce
had a big cooler loaded up with freshly made P.J. and a salad bowl full
of pot, waiting on us. Party time!
We sat around for a few hours watching MTV, smoking bowl

after bowl, talking shit. Bruce’s wife, Tina, was staying in her
bedroom for some reason. Every now and then, I’d catch a glimpse of
her going to and from the bathroom. She’d look at me and smile while
she was shaking her lil’ ass. I knew I’d have her if I could just get past
Bruce.
We partied until early morning. Bruce told us we could pocket

whatever pot was left over in the salad bowl. We split it up five ways
and started staggering for the door. As I was leaving, Bruce stopped
me and told me to hang back a minute. I told the guys I’d see them
tomorrow afternoon, and they left. When they left, Bruce told me he
had something for me, and I turned to see what it was. Tina came out
of the hallway wearing a see-thru negligee and a smile. I looked at
her, and then I looked at Bruce, not knowing what the hell was up. I
tensed up because I thought Bruce was protective of his wife, always
keeping her indoors and out of sight when I came over. I really
thought my ogling of her had really pissed him off and I was fixing to
have to fight for my life. Instead, he told me to take his wife into the
bedroom and fuck her any way I chose to. I looked at both of them
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and saw that they were both serious. I told Bruce that I thought I was
too drunk and really didn’t think it was a good idea. I was still unsure
of the situation. He laughed and said it was no big deal. They were
“swingers”, which meant his wife chose men to have sex with and he
chose the women. The reason he didn’t have us not invite girls over
was because Tina was going to choose a guy to fuck her that night; his
gift to her. She’d been watching me and wanted to have sex with me.
She took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom.
Once there, she undressed me and gave me head until I was

hard enough to fuck. The whole time it was going on, I was watching
the bedroom door, expecting Bruce to bust in and kill me. It wasn’t
bad sex, but it was nerve wracking. We did all sorts of positions. She
was all over me. I got on the bed, and she climbed on top and rode me
until I passed out.
The next morning, I awoke to see her on her knees sucking my

dick while Bruce was fucking her doggie-style. This creeped me out
and my dick went limp in her mouth. Bruce told me to get up and
help him fuck his wife silly, but my brain was screaming, “Get the fuck
out of there!” This was my first experience in a gangbang, but it just
weirded me out. I told them I had to leave, or my grandma would be
worried, so they understood, and I left. Bruce told me to keep this
event to myself; not to tell anyone, and I could fuck his wife anytime I
wanted to. He asked me to hook him up with a girl or two, also. I said
I would and left.
Of course, I had to tell the fellas. They didn’t believe me, but the
more I described it to them, they finally believed. They told me to
keep fucking his wife. I kept the “gang-bang” episode to myself.
I stayed away for a few days just to get my mind wrapped

around the experience. A couple days later I stopped by the
apartment when I knew Bruce was at work. Tina let me in, and we
had sex for almost two hours. She told me that her husband had a girl
who lived across the street from them that he and her would have
threesomes with. Would I want to come over for a four-way? I said I
would, and she told me to come back over that evening.
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I got there anxious. I didn’t even know who the girl was, having
never met her, but she was a beauty of a girl. About twenty-two and
full-figured. We all smoked a couple of bowls, and Tina came over to
me and sat on my lap. She started pawing at my pants. The other girl
did the same to Bruce. In no time at all, we were all naked and the
girls were giving us head. Tina told the other girl, Beth, to switch with
her. I got up and had Beth bend over while I mounted her. Tina and
Bruce were doing their thing while watching me and Beth. Then it got
really crazy; Tina laid down on the living room floor and told Beth to
squat on her face. I was told to have Beth give me head while Bruce
got down and started munching on Tina. We flipped the girls all over
the floor. I came once and watched them until I got hard again. I
rejoined the foray. When we were all spent, I got dressed and left.
The next day, I stopped by Beth’s to see if she wanted to enjoy

some sex, but she refused me. She said she was told by Bruce to not
allow me to have sex with her if he wasn’t there. Not understanding, I
stopped at Tina’s to see if she wanted to fuck around, and she refused
me, too. She said Bruce was the “master” and what he said “goes”. Ha!
To me, he was just a weirdo.
That evening, he called Grandma’s and told me he wanted to

see me. When I got the message, I went over. Tina opened the door
and invited me in. Beth was there, too. Bruce came right out and told
me to NEVER, EVER go to Beth’s on my own. He was the “master’’ and
what he said was the law. Ha! I laughed in his face. I eased to the door
and told him he didn’t have to worry about me coming back to his
place. He tried to explain to me something about him being an “S & M
Master” and he was recruiting “slaves”. I told him I was no one’s slave
and he could go fuck himself, and I left. I went to Robby’s place and
told him about the episode.
Later that evening at Grandma’s place, Bruce tried to talk to

me. When I told him, I wanted no part of his game, he threatened to
kick my ass if anyone found out. Ha! I told him I already told all my
friends, and he was the laughingstock of the neighborhood. Then he
threatened to kill me. I’m not one to be scared, so I told him to go fuck
himself, again.
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The next day, I got all my friends over to Robby’s for a meeting.
I told them all of what had been going on and how it ended. Black
Bobby and The Fly said they wanted to go and be his slaves if it
meant they could fuck Tina and Beth. I told them to go to Bruce’s and
ask him. The Fly got scared, but Black Bobby wasn’t. We watched as
he went over to Bruce’s place to see if he could join the fun. Bruce
chased him away with a baseball bat. We laughed like mad men.
Black Bobby said that Bruce told him if any of my friends came
around him or his girls, he’d kill them. Well, Bruce just threatened my
gang, and I couldn’t have that, could I?
We waited nearly a week before we saw Bruce and Tina climb

into their 442 and leave. It was evening time, so we crept into Bruce’s
back door, broke the lock, and went in. We stole all his pot, money,
and any jewelry we could find. We shit and pissed on their bed. The
Fly wrote, “Freaks” on their bedroom wall with shit. We laughed all
the way back to Robby’s. We got stoned and waited to see what
happened when they got home.
It was late when they finally came home. All of the lights came
on in the apartment, but they didn’t call the cops.
The next day, Bruce called me. He said he knew I broke into his
apartment and did what I did and took what I took. He said he was
going to kill me the first chance he had. Ha! A challenge! Tommy Kaos
loves a challenge!
Later that evening, early morning, I had my crew together and

we went to Bruce’s place. We took a gallon of paint and several cans
of spray paint, and we destroyed Bruce’s 442. We poured paint on the
engine, slashed his tires, and sprayed “Faggot”, “Dick sucker”, “Queer”
and all sorts of profanity all over his beautiful car.
This time, he called the police. All he had was my phone

number, so he gave that to them. A detective called me and asked me
to come to the police station for questioning. Knowing we didn’t leave
any fingerprints behind; I went to the police station to talk to the
detective.
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He read the police report and asked me if I knew anything

about it. I denied any and all knowledge of the incident and he let me
leave.
Later that evening, Bruce called Grandma’s and told me he’d

kill me on sight. I told him if he kept harassing me I would go to the
detective and let him know he had his wife have sex with a minor. He
hung up on me.
Two weeks later, he and Tina moved away. I never saw them
again. The girl who lived across the street from Bruce moved shortly
thereafter. I guess knowing that they had sex with a minor scared
them off. See ya later!!
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Chapter 43
Things got back too normal, except for having to go to court

over Rusty. He and his mom pressed charges on me for assault,
breaking and entering, and destruction of personal property. I was
only served a summons instead of being taken to jail because the D.A.
didn’t believe a lot of what Rusty was saying. He had witnesses called
in, Antwan and the black girl, and I had James go in and give a
statement on my behalf. The “assault” was seen as me protecting
myself. “He surrounded me with ten of his friends”, I complained.
When the day of court arrived, his mom dropped all of the
charges. We were all in court and she told the judge that she realized
everything was caused by a girl, and she wasn’t willing to ruin my life
due to my and her son’s petty misunderstandings. The judge asked
her if she was willing to pay the court cost, and she said she would.
Talk about surprised! I guess my threats about killing him and his
mom did the trick. I had made numerous calls to him and told him the
next step was death if I was prosecuted. God knows I was kidding, but
I guess Rusty thought I was serious. He talked his mom into dropping
all the charges.
I saw Rusty about six months later; he moved, and I hadn’t seen
him for a while. He changed schools, too. One day, James and I passed
him going down Hwy 127. We did a U-turn and went in hot pursuit. I
was in one of those moods to just kick some ass, and Rusty drove by.
Good luck for him and me.
We caught up to him at the stoplight. I jumped out of the front

seat of James’s Renault LeCar and ran around Rusty’s Dodge Neon. I
pulled him out of the car and began to pummel him into the street.
His car began to roll into the intersection, barely getting away from
being hit by a truck. Rusty laid in a ball, screaming in the street. I got
back into James’ car, and we peeled out of there, laughing like idiots.
Rusty’s car ended up on a curve against a street sign. Punk Rock
Rules! Ha!
Back at home, things were getting tense. Uncle Rob made snide
comments about how Grandma had been “feeding my sorry ass”
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while I roam the streets. I’d argue with him saying I was in school all
day, only for him to inform me that he called the alternate school and
they told him I haven’t even enrolled yet.
I’d been going to Robby’s place every day and chilling out. I’d
plan a few burglaries, listen to some Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath,
and get stoned. There wasn’t much else to do during the day.
Everyone was either at school or work. Grandma told me I needed to
go to school or get a job. I said I’d find a job.
Every day at Grandma’s was a pain in the ass. Uncle Rob would
get mouthy and start an argument with me, and Grandma always
took his side. It didn’t matter that I gave her twenty to forty dollars a
week from my burglaries and Uncle Rob only gave her twenty-five.
He’d borrow that back before each weekend was over, due to his bar-
hopping ways. But I was the troublemaker. What I thought was
Grandma would give me some leeway here and there because of the
money I gave her. I NEVER asked her for any money back, like Rob
did.
One night, I decided to come home early. I went into the

kitchen and got me a bowl of rice and some soy sauce, an ever-
present staple at Grandma’s, and went into the living room to watch
T.V. Uncle Rob was drinking beer and sitting on the sofa. For some
reason, Uncle Rob was feeling like “the man of the house” and asked
me if I asked Grandma for the rice I was eating. I looked at him like he
was crazy, because to me that was a dumbass question, “Why would I
ask for some rice? I helped pay for it, unlike you!” I replied. He
reached over and slapped the bowl out of my hands. I frigging
snapped!!
I jumped up and kicked at his face as he tried to get up. I

connected and he fell back on the sofa. I jumped on him, grabbing a
handful of beard and began to pound his face in. Grandma came
screaming at me to, “get off her son”. Ha! I punched him a few more
times then got up off of him and told him to come with me outside. I
was feeling good and mean and didn’t want it to end. His nose was
busted, and his eye was swelling shut. He looked exhausted and
defeated sitting there. Grandma went and got a towel to stop the
bleeding. She told me to leave her house and never come back. I was
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floored. Once again, I was kicked aside like trash and was to blame
for something I didn’t start. FINE! I got my things together and left.
Uncle Rob tried talking to me, but I told him to go FUCK himself as I
walked out of the house. I got my bike and went to Kathy’s house.
I stayed the night making love to Kathy. I had no idea where I’d
stay, but I knew I couldn’t stay with her because her son’s father
wouldn’t allow that. I figured I’d camp out at Robby’s or Reds.
Later that day, I went to Robby’s and asked him if I could crash
on his sofa and he said, “No problem.” We had discussed finding a
two-bedroom apartment already, so this just made us look more
serious.
After checking the newspaper and making some calls, we found

us an apartment on Highland Ave. What an appropriate name, “High-
Land.” Ha! Our new place was like all the apartments I had grown up
in…upstairs. It was a house divided into three apartments: two
downstairs and ours, upstairs. The stairs leading to our apartment
ran up the left side of the house if you were facing the front of the
place.
The apartment was furnished with all we needed, refrigerator,

stove, tables, chairs, sofa, and beds. It was heated with an electric
heater in the living room. The bedrooms had zero heat, but we had
plenty of blankets. Robby’s landlady gave us all sorts of stuff to take
with us, blankets, dishes, towels, rags, etc. She even boxed up some
groceries for us. She said she was going to miss him and started
crying. Wawa!!!
To help pay my share of the bills, I kept up my burglary skills. I

was breaking into everything, from homes, to offices, to
manufacturing plants, as well as still opening soda and chip
machines. We kept a supply of soda and snacks handy.
I tried to find some semblance to being upstanding by

searching for some sort of job. I found one at a classy restaurant in
downtown Hickory called, “The Pleasure Is Yours”. It was a nice place
with a separate bar and dining room. The wait staff wore some kind
of tuxedo-type clothing and only opened for lunch and dinner. The
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prices were astronomically high, but it was a rich person’s

establishment, so it should be expensive. I was hired as a dishwasher
but was mainly used for an extra set of hands. I bussed tables,
vacuumed, wiped tables and the bar, did some fry-cooking; I’d do
anything I was needed for. My only downfall was I was a thief at
heart.
After every lunch hour, I was to vacuum the place and clean out
the restrooms. Usually, everyone who worked in the place would
leave, and I’d be all alone. I took full advantage of this time. I’d
vacuum and clean, but I’d be tapping into the cash registers, too. A
twenty here, a twenty there, plus I’d steal bottles of liquor, steaks,
and shrimp, and put them into trash bags and into the dumpster.
When my shift was over with, I’d get the trash bag out and ride home
with my bounty. Robby and my friends loved to drink, so the alcohol
came in handy. I ended up stealing almost twenty bottles of liquor by
the time I got caught stealing from the register.
This day was like every other. I’d come to work, wash dishes
through the lunch crowd, and then everyone would leave until
dinner. I was told to clean the place up. No problem! I’d vacuum until
I was sure everyone was gone, and then I’d hit the dining room
register for fifty dollars. Next, I’d hit the bar register for twenty
dollars. I’d load a couple bottles of liquor into a trash bag and go
place them in the dumpster. Then I’d continue cleaning like nothing
was amiss.
The cook came in before everyone else did. He went directly to

the dining room register. I ducked off into the kitchen. After a few
minutes, he came into the kitchen and told me I had five minutes to
give up the fifty dollars or he was calling the cops. I handed over the
fifty. He asked me why I was stealing, and I said that I just moved into
a new apartment and needed to turn the power on…a lie. He talked to
me like a concerned big brother and told me to never steal again. He
said he was putting the money back in the register and not telling the
owner; that they baited the register to see if I was the thief. He said
he was going to keep it a secret between us, but if I stole anything
else, he’d call the cops on me. I offered to quit, but he didn’t want me
to, saying he liked me, and I had done a really good job so far. My
secret was safe with him. So, I kept on working.
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This lasted until just before my birthday. I was fixing to turn

fifteen and decided to have a big party at the apartment.
I quit stealing money, but I kept stealing goods. I placed a trash

bag full of steaks, shrimp, uncooked noodles, and liquor into the
dumpster with other trash bags before my shift was over. The owner
called me to his office. On his desk was the trash bag, opened. He said
he knew lots of stuff was coming up missing, especially liquor, so he
started watching what was going out in the trash. He said he found
the trash bag I put out there a few days before in the dumpster but
didn’t take it. He wanted to see who got the bag. It was me of course.
He didn’t say anything to me because he wanted to catch me red-
handed. Now that he did, he didn’t know what to do with me. Call the
cops, fire me, or make me work off the amount he believes I stole. He
told me he liked my work ethic and commended me on never
complaining, but now he knew why…. I was stealing.
I offered to quit and let him keep my paycheck, just so he

wouldn’t call the cops, but he refused to let me quit. He told me if I
needed anything at all, not to steal it, ask for it. I went back to work.
This lasted for two days. The waiters and waitresses were
mumbling about how “the thief was caught” every time I came
around. They looked at me like I was a pariah and looked snotty. I
was ready to punch someone, so I walked out. I went home and never
went back to the restaurant. The cook came by with my last paycheck
a few days later. He asked me why I quit, and I told him. He wished
me luck and left.
My birthday arrived and we partied hard; alcohol for everyone

but me. I had my pot, so I was good. Donna warmed my bed, and all
was gravy. She was my part-time bed warmer, now.
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Chapter 44
After the party, I had to do some serious cleaning. Some of the

guys puked here and there, and my bathroom was a mess. Donna
helped me and Robby by doing all the scrubbing.
When I got to cleaning up my bedroom, I found a phone

number to the kid, Fred, I knew in the country. His dad was the
trucker that grew marijuana. I called the number and the father
answered. I asked him if he remembered me, and he did. I asked him
if he still wanted to sell me some pot, and he did. He told me he’d sell
me a loaded trash bag for five-hundred dollars. He said every bag had
two to three plants in them…stems, leaves, and buds and would give
me at least five pounds of pot, each. He said he’d give me the first bag,
free, if I could come up with five-hundred dollars. I said I would check
and see and call him back.
I went to Robby to see if he wanted to join me in this venture

and he agreed to split it with me. We pulled our money together and I
informed the trucker I was ready to buy. He told me to meet him off
of Hwy I-40 at a certain 7-Eleven Store by the dumpster at a certain
time the next day. No problem!
I got Billy to drive me to meet him. He was sitting in his pick-up

truck waiting on us. I got out and hopped in his truck and gave him
the five-hundred dollars. He said my bags were in the dumpster, right
on top. He left and I got the two bags. You could smell pot emanating
from them.
When we got to my place, we opened a bag, and sure enough, it

had a couple of huge pot plants chopped up inside it. We pulled the
pot out and began separating it. We ended up with a few pounds of
buds out of the first bag. Good haul! The buds were full, thick, and
some of them were more than a foot long. Good sense! We did some
bong hits while we began to bag up ounces and roll joints.
We found a great stash spot in a closet in the living room. We’d

put the sofa in front of the closet because we never used the closet for
anything. There were only a couple of hangers and a couple of crappy,
framed pictures that were hanging on the wall when we moved in.
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We took them and tossed them into the closet to make room for our
rock posters. Anyway, this closet had thin paneling as walls. I pulled
aside the paneling to find a huge empty space in the roof. I put the pot
into the empty space and replaced the paneling. We put the sofa right
back in front of the door and no one was the wiser. Just me, Robby,
and Billy knew of my stash spot.
I called everyone I knew and let them know I was in stock of

some very good homegrown sense-bud. “Bring your money!” And
bring it they did. I had so much traffic in and out of the apartment, it
wasn’t funny. High schoolers, junior high schoolers, college students,
and adults; in no time at all, I sold out. I had made a few thousand
dollars, easily.
I called the trucker and got two more bags. We met, I gave him
a grand and he left. I grabbed the trash bags and me and Billy headed
home. At the apartment, we opened one bag and began separating it.
When we were done, we opened the other. It was full of 7-Eleven
trash. OOOPS! WRONG BAG! We raced twenty miles to the 7-Eleven
to find the bag of pot. I dove into the dumpster. The second bag was
way in the opposite corner of the dumpster. It had rolled into the
corner when he tossed it in.
I got it out and we went home, laughing it off. Business was

open.
Things were good coming up on Christmas. I had plenty of

money and didn’t need to steal. I kept my friends going out on
“missions” so they could earn some money, too. They’d hit houses
and businesses and bring me the bounty for some pot. It was all good.
Even Donna got into the act. She was already prostituting at local
bars, but she’d steal stuff here and there, too. She had brought me a
box of checks that she had stolen from a guy’s house, his wife’s
checks. Not knowing what to do with them, (I was fifteen, give me a
break...), we tried something out to see if it worked.
I went across the street to the Wishy-Washy Laundry mat and

used the payphone. This is the exact same laundry mat/carwash that
Red, and I got busted at for the dollar change machine. I was still
pulling change from those machines!
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Anyway, I went to use the pay phone and called Domino’s

pizza. I ordered five pizzas and some two-liter bottles of coke and sat
back awaiting the pizza guy.
A long, blonde-haired dude showed up in a small Toyota. He

gave me the pizzas, and I wrote him a check, plus a five-dollar tip. The
guy never asked a question. He took the check and left. Chow time!
Back at the apartment, we ate pizza until we were stuffed. Me,

Robby, and Donna smoked up some pot, then me and Donna went to
bed.
The next night, I did the same thing. I called Dominos for five
pizzas all the way. The same guy arrived and asked me about the
checks. I told him it was my girlfriend’s checks. He looked at me long
and hard, and then asked me if I knew anyone he could buy some pot
from. I just smiled and asked him what he wanted. He said he only
had a few dollars, so I took him to my place and introduced him to
Robby and Donna. I sold him a couple of joints and informed him I
could sell him anything he wanted. He asked me if I’d trade pot for
pizza. I said, “Sure, as long as I got a good deal.” He explained that
Dominos always has extra pizzas close to 10 p.m., by shifts end, and
they give them to the drivers. How many pizzas did I want? I told
him to bring five pizzas each day, and I’d give him five joints. He
agreed.
True to his word, he came over with five large pizzas and I gave
him five joints. That went on for a couple of weeks. I was calling over
my friends, giving pizza away, daily. I’d freeze pizza for future use,
too.
One day, my friend The Fly said he was coming to my house

and saw the pizza guy talking to, “Mad Dog Maynard” at a house next
to the railroad tracks.
The railroad tracks run right through Hickory and are used by
lots of people as a kind of path to get to various parts because it’s
quicker than walking sidewalks. Behind my apartment is a small
furniture factory with tracks running right behind it. The Fly was
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walking from his house to mine via the tracks, when he saw the pizza
guy talking to Mad Dog; that got my attention.
That night, when the pizza guy showed up I asked him why he
was talking to Mad Dog. He said he had gotten a speeding ticket, and
Mad Dog was harassing him. Not knowing if I believed him or not, I
told him I didn’t have any more pot and didn’t want any more of his
pizzas. He could see I was accusing him of snitching, but he left
without my having to kick his ass.
Around midnight, Robby and I were sitting on the sofa, stoned

out of our minds, when a knock on the door brought me back to
reality. I got up to see who it was. There stood Mad Dog Maynard and
about four other cops. The door wasn’t locked so he barged into the
apartment, pushing me against the wall, handing me a search
warrant. He patted me down, then Robby. An officer searched the
sofa finding the rolling tray underneath. The officer pulled the sofa
away from the closet and opened the closet. He looked inside and
shut the door, pushing the sofa back against the wall. WHEW! I just
knew that if someone had found out about our stash spot, I was
through. But…that wasn’t it.
They searched the whole apartment and gathered up whatever

“contraband” they could locate. They had about fifteen pipes lined up
in the living room (I had robbed a plumbing truck and was making all
sorts of pipes out of P.V.C. using sockets and wrench pieces as bowls).
They got about a quarter ounce of pot and some rolling papers from
the rolling tray. They broke off all the makeshift “bowls” of the P.V.C.
pipes, not wanting to carry all the P.V.C. tubing with them.
I asked Mayo what he thought he was doing, and he said, “A

Little Birdie” had told him about my pot-operation, and he was going
to shut me down. I laughed at him.
When it was all over and they finished searching, all Mad Dog
could do was write me a ticket for marijuana and marijuana
contraband because in those days it was a petty misdemeanor for
getting caught with less than an ounce. The cops bagged up the items
they were taking and left. Mad Dog said, “See ya in court, Tommy
Kaos!” I guess the pizza guy even learned of my nickname.
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As soon as they left, we got some pot out of the stash and went
back to smoking. We laughed and laughed because we knew the
ticket and summons to court would be a waste of time.
The next night, me and a few of my friends paid the pizza guy’s
home a visit. We painted, “Snitch”, “Rat”, and “Dick Eater” on the front
of his house and poured gallons of paint all over his car with the
Domino’s sign on top.
After a couple of weeks and a few coats of paint were applied,

the pizza guy’s house became empty. He moved out of town.
As for court, it was months away, so I went back to business as

usual.
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Chapter 45
One evening, me and my friends were hanging out listening to

some old AC/DC, the Bonn Scott era. I was lying on the sofa, stoned,
and singing along. Robby was playing his guitar, learning the AC/DC
licks. Red, Black Bobby, and The Fly were all sitting around stoned,
too. I started singing along to the music, mimicking Bonn Scott’s
voice. While I was singing the music stopped. Not caring, I kept on
singing the song, loudly. When the music didn’t start up again, I asked
Robby what his malfunction was, and he said he was listening to me
singing. I told him to crank up the music. When the music started
back up, I began to sing again. Once again, he turned off the music and
I started to get pissed off until The Fly told me to keep singing. I
looked at him like he was stupid, but Red and Black Bobby told me to
me sing the song, too. So, I sang the verse, “I’m of the upper class, high
society, God’s gift to ballroom notoriety.” You could have heard a pin
drop. I looked at them like they were nuts. Robby told me to sing the
song while he played his guitar. It became apparent that I sounded
like Bonn Scott. They made me sing almost all of his songs until I
couldn’t sing anymore.
Robby got all excited. He said, “Dude, let’s start a band. You
sing, I’ll play lead guitar and let’s look for a drummer and a bassist!”
Not to be left out, Black Bobby wanted to be the bassist. He could play
rhythm guitar, so going to a bass guitar wouldn’t be too hard for him.
I thought it was just a “stoned-idea” until the next day. Robby went
and put an ad in the newspaper for a “hard-rock drummer”. He was
serious.
A few dudes came over wanting to jam for us, but we had
nowhere to jam but our lil’ apartment. The neighbors were cool with
us, but there was no way we’d get away with a drum set being beaten
upon. We had to find a place to practice. We looked in the trusty
newspaper.
A couple of places were for rent, but not to our liking. We found
a great spot above the cab company. It was housed on the bottom
floor of a two-story building, downtown. The owner of the cab
company wanted to rent the place just to have someone to clean it up.
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It was full of file cabinets and dust. He rented it to me for one-

hundred dollars a month. No problem!
A friend of Donnas came over to my apartment saying, “I’m

your new drummer.” His name was Animal, and he had wild, curly
hair and a crazy smile. He said he couldn’t wait until he could show us
how well he played. We asked if he had wheels, and lucky for us, he
had a van. That made him even more appealing. We told him where
our practice studio was, and to meet us there on Saturday morning.
All that week we cleaned our studio up and got our spot to jam
in just right. The place had huge windows, so we opened them to air
the place out. We had Billy help us get our “newly acquired” speakers
to the place, and Robby, Black Bobby, and I began to practice songs
we thought I’d be good at singing. By Saturday morning, we had
about ten songs down.
Animal showed up and we unloaded his drum kit. It wasn’t

anything special, but it was Animal that made them special. With his
crazy hair and crazy smile, he got down to business. He played like
Animal on the Muppets, hair flying everywhere and very loud. He was
also very good. We put our songs with his drums and jammed out. We
went over our ten songs until we knew them by heart. Then we did
some that Animal knew…. Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, Ted Nugent.
We had us a band.
By Sunday morning, I had called all of our friends and dope

purchasers and told them to come to the parking lot at the Yellow
Cab Company by 6 p.m. We were going to jam for them.
I told the cab manager what the plan was, and he was fine with
it as long as it didn’t disturb his business or the cabs coming and
going. I informed him that some of my friends may need a cab, plus
they’ll be buying sodas and food from the snack bar that was also
part of the building. “As long as we didn’t disturb his business”, he
said.
That evening, the parking lot was full. All of my friends showed
up, plus people from school and some from local bars. We started
jamming at 6 p.m. and rocked the place for over an hour. I was in a
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zone of being a rock star and loving it. The parking lot couldn’t see
into the area we were playing, but they could sure hear us. They were
cheering and clapping for us, wanting more. We smoked a couple of
joints and drank some drinks and then played the songs over again.
Now it was time to go in search of a gig.
Robby hooked up a recording of our playlist and took we the

cassette around to a couple of bars. At the Bear’s Den, I found a home
for us.
The owner was a short, fat guy named Bear. He was a biker and
a pool hustler, and his bar was in the basement of a restaurant. It was
small, but attracted lots of bikers, rowdy’s, whores, and pool hustlers.
Bear had a couple of raggedy pool tables for the bar patrons, but he
had a nice one petitioned off for the big spenders.
He listened to our tape and said he’d like to hear us live. He

only had a one-man-band on the weekends, but he wanted something
that was going to bring in people. I assured him that our band would
do just that as long as he didn’t have an age restriction. He didn’t
mind kids as long as they didn’t bring the cops to his place.
When I was leaving, he asked me the name of our band and I

didn’t have one to give him. I told him I’d get back to him with one,
later.
I told my band mates we had a gig at Bear’s Den. Robby and

Black Bobby were scared of the place. It was notorious for shootings
and stabbings, not to mention no place for blacks. I assured them that
we’d rock the place to its knees, and we’d have nothing to worry
about. Our first gig, on Friday night, was free. If Bear liked us, he’d
pay a hundred dollars a night, weekends only. We were ready except
for a name.
We threw names all over the place until we came up with

“ATTACKER”. I attacked the mike and stage, while Animal would
attack the drums. Good name for us.
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We told everyone where our first gig was and got ready for our
first show. We put a few more songs together and only had to wait for
Friday to arrive.
On Friday morning, Animal came and helped me get our stuff

together at the cab company. We took everything we needed for the
gig at Bear’s. By noon we were doing sound checks. We were going to
be very loud in this little space. We were used to a huge, open area,
not a cramped lil’ bar. Well, let’s get loud.
Our name was up on the sign, next to the road. Now

showing…... “ATTACKER”. I felt big time!!! Ha!
The place was jam-packed. Bikers, whores, college kids, and

high school kids… everyone was there to see us. Bear was surprised
we pulled in so many people, but I assured him that this would be like
that every weekend. He said, “Well, get to it!”
I got on the little stage, and we kicked it off with “Big Balls”, my
favorite song. The place erupted. We jammed out about ten songs and
took a break. The cheering and applause was almost as deafening as
our music. People loved us.
Bear came over and gave me a hundred dollars and said we

could drink all the beer on tap that we wanted. My band mates loved
that. He said we were hired for each weekend at a hundred dollars a
night. We thought that was great, we didn’t know he was getting a
couple of grand just at the door. No matter, we were rockers.
After our second set, I was grabbed by the hand and taken
outside by some biker chick. She wanted to “Smoke my joint”. Ha! I let
her, too. We hung out ‘til 2 a.m. I got drunk, stoned, and laid at some
girl’s apartment. I didn’t awaken until almost 3 p.m., the next day.
Night after night it was different women pawing all over me

and my band mates. We loved all the attention, but it got to me after
about a month of the hassles I got from disgruntled girls who thought
my dick was theirs alone. Then I met Lisa.
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This girl was a hard rocker’s dream come true. She showed up
at Bear’s wearing tight spandex pants and a halter top. Her nipples
were erect, for the whole world to see. She had flaming red hair and a
very beautiful face. She became glued to the front of the stage, and I
sang every song to her. When our first set was finished, she pulled me
out of the bar and smoked a joint with me. After introducing herself
to me, she blatantly told me that I would be going home with her that
night, and I accepted. After some heavy kissing and heavy petting, I
went back inside to jam out.
After the last set was over, we left the bar in her car. She drove
me to her apartment in Fox Run Apartments where we tore at each
other’s clothes until we were naked. She tasted good all over. I got all
I could handle out of Lisa. She made it a point to be at my side at
every show. All the other girls would still sneak glances my way,
letting me know they were available if I wanted them. But Lisa was
enough for me, until she turned crazy on me.
One night, she got loud and demanding, and I told her to go to
hell. She screamed and cursed me out until I had the bouncer get her
outside. She tried to slap me, but I dodged her blow. When she called
me a whore, I threw it back in her face. She got upset and left. It all
started because I smiled at Bear’s daughter, Aimee.
Aimee was about my age, fourteen, and looked like Bear: short,
fat, and ugly; she didn’t think she was ugly, though. She dressed like a
little slut, always trying to entice me and others, but we were all nice
to her because of her being Bear’s daughter. No one wanted to touch
her, but in her mind, everyone wanted to fuck her. Ha! Crazy bitch!
Well, she smiled at me because she asked me to smoke a joint

with her later, and I said I would. I guess she smiled at me when I was
with Lisa, just to piss her off. It worked.
Later that night, I smoked a joint with Aimee, and sure enough,
she wanted to give me some pussy. I told her, politely, that I don’t
cheat on my girlfriends, but she insisted that I get some of her pussy. I
politely refused again. She got mad and stomped off.
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The next day, as I was setting up for the evening show, Bear
called me aside. He said that he heard I was good at shooting pool,
and I admitted that I had grown up in bars and had played pool quite
a bit. He challenged me to a game on his pool table, five dollars a
game. “Why not?” I said.
Bear got out his four-piece stick and I grabbed the straightest
stick out of the rack. I won the toss to break. I ran a few balls, and
then missed one. He ran a few, and then I cleaned the table. He lost.
We bet again. This time he doubled the bet and I won again. I saw, as
he got madder, he got sloppier. I broke the rack, ran a few balls, then,
scratched out. He ran a couple and missed. My turn again, I ran the
table clean. Out of nowhere, he asked me about his daughter, and that
totally blew my concentration. I asked him what about his daughter,
and he said she liked me, and she wanted to date me. I told him I had
a girlfriend and he got nasty, saying Lisa was nothing but a whore. I
said, “Maybe so, but she’s my whore and finer than any female that
comes into this place.” He took that to mean his daughter and his wife
(both hogs). I told him I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, but I’m not
wanting to date his daughter. He got mad and told me to get all my
gear and “get the fuck out of my bar, before I beat your ass!”
I didn’t believe he could beat my ass, but I knew he carried a

pistol on him, so I took the money from kicking his ass in pool and got
Animal to help me get our stuff together. Animal was pissed at me for
making Bear mad, but I didn’t care. It was time to try another bar.
Animal and I drove up the road about four blocks to Pat and
Bill’s place. They had a pool hall with video games and pinball
machines, plus they had a grill and served hamburgers, hot dogs, and
French fries. It was run by a very nice couple (Pat and Bill) who ran
credit lines for people and would open all the games up for free on
Thursdays. We stopped to grab something to eat but ended up talking
Bill into letting us set up our equipment and jam there that evening
for free. Bill was all for it.
We discussed payment for any future gigs because Bill didn’t

know how many people would come see us. Ha! I told him to call
Reggie (the bouncer) to work the door because it was going to be a
packed house.
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I called everyone and told them we no longer played at Bear’s,

to come to Pat and Bill’s Place. Pat and Bill never had so many people
before.
The next day, Bill told me he’d give me two hundred dollars a
night and all we could eat and drink to play at his place each
weekend. I agreed. For about two months we kept the place rocking.
We used our daytime to practice new songs, or just to hang out at Pat
and Bill’s. Reggie, the bouncer, was a very good friend of mine. He
taught me how to kick properly and how to use my fists, palms, and
knees as well.
The following Friday, Bear came to Pat and Bill’s trying to hire
us back. When he pulled up in his vintage pickup truck, I knew what
he was coming for. I went and got Reggie to go out to talk to him with
me.
Bear said he wanted me back and was willing to pay me double

my nightly pay. I told him I was good right where I was at. He offered
me more money, but I turned him down, again. He was getting mad,
and I wanted to turn it up a notch; I asked him how Aimee was
getting along without me. Ha! He told me he’d kick my ass, and Reggie
stepped between us. We yelled at each other for a minute, and then
Reggie told him to leave. We went back inside and played some pool.
To my surprise, Animal and Black Bobby decided they wanted

to go to California to some school for heavy metal or something. They
were leaving in a week. We jammed out together until they left, and
Robby and I took our equipment home. The band died without us
trying to get new members. We were tired, anyway. I was running
ragged due to all the female attention and hassles that came with it
all. I was a rock star for a few months! BUT….
Lisa kept acting crazy; one night she’d love me, and the next
night, she’d want to kill me. I ended that shit. Donna was the only
constant bed companion who didn’t want anything, other than a good
fuck and someone to hug up to in the morning. She’d be gone by
lunch each day.
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I tried to get back into my stealing groove, but I felt I needed

some sort of normalcy. I asked Kathy to get me a job at her company,
she did.
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Chapter 46
Jefferson Leather was only a few blocks from my apartment on

Highland Avenue. I was hired because Kathy was the secretary for the
plant manager. It was a leather furniture company making
primarily…. DUH…leather furniture. My job was in the shipping
department. I had to help a really huge, but short, black man named
Tiny, package furniture and load trucks. Easy job! It paid well and the
employees were very nice; most were Christian.
Tiny had introduced me to, mostly, everyone. His buddy was

Manny, a very cool black dude. Another guy there that was cool was
Mike. Mike was a big white kid who was waiting to go into the Marine
Corps. It’s all he spoke of. During lunch breaks Tiny, Manny, Mike, and
I would go to my apartment and smoke pot. Being around Christians
all day was a bummer and weed made it easier.
Donna had a connection for some good microdot acid. She had
traded a couple ounces of weed for a hundred hits of purple
microdot. We decided to have a party and invite everyone we knew
who did acid. We’d charge five dollars a hit, and I’d supply dollar
joints or dollar bowls. I wanted to at least try to recoup some of my
money.
We called everyone we knew who did acid and invited them

over for Friday night.
People started pouring in around 6 p.m. By 9 p.m., the place

was packed with trippers. I had the purple light out, glowing posters
everywhere, and Pink Floyd flowing through the entire apartment.
Mike never did acid before, so I gave him three hits to put him
in a zone. I told Donna not to give him anymore, but she never
listened to me anyway. Before the night was through, she sold him
ten more hits.
During the evening, I was tripping balls. I remember, at some

point, being in my room, sitting on my bed, and smoking from “The
Tower”. It was a four-foot bong, shaped like a steel-framed building. I
was sitting on the bed next to Donna and The Fly. I was just hitting
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the bong when my bedroom door opened and in walked who I

thought was Davey. The same Davey, I beat the hell out of over
Christina. I jumped up off the bed and began beating “Davey’s” face in
until I was being pulled off of him by Donna and The Fly. I fell on my
ass and was surprised to see Robby on the floor, opposite of me,
bleeding everywhere. OOOPS! It wasn’t Davey; it was Robby,
screaming that I was crazy and insane. Donna was trying to calm him
down while I tried to make sense of what the hell just happened. I
was so high that I, mistakenly, saw Davey when it was clearly Robby.
WOW! That acid was good shit.
During the night, I apologized to the point of ruining my buzz.

What made the night worse was Mike. He had eaten thirteen hits of
acid and was sitting on the end of my sofa tripping balls, heavily. His
voice went from bassy and normal to very high-pitched and slurring
like a drunk. He was drinking beer and smoking pot, too, but the acid
had him out there. I figured he’d snap out of it in the morning, so I
went to bed.
Donna woke me up about 10 a.m. saying she had to leave and

for me to go check on Mike. He was still sitting on the end of the sofa
with a perma-grin all over his face. I asked him if he was alright, and I
could instantly tell he was far from okay. His speech was worse, and
he acted retarded. I began to worry and made him go take a shower,
but he was still loopy. I then made him smoke bowl after bowl to try
to get him to fall asleep, but that did nothing. I fed him and gave him
more alcohol, but he was still awake and smiling at 12 a.m. that night.
Damn!
The next day, Sunday, was the exact same with him. I was
tempted to send him to the hospital, but we thought he’d come down
with time.
On Monday morning, I awoke to see him sleeping on the sofa. I

went to work and didn’t say a thing about him to anyone, except for
Manny and Tiny. After work, they came to my place to see Mike. He
was just as fucked up as the night before. He could comprehend
everything we said to him, but he replied to us like a mentally
disabled child. Squeaky high voice and slurring. There’s no doubt
about it, he had a bad trip on that acid. There was nothing that Tiny,
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Manny, or I could do. I sat with him until bedtime and got up the next
morning to see him in his usual spot, still loopy. He had told me he
had to go home and check on his cat. I told him that was a good idea
and asked him if he knew where home was. He did.
WHEW! At least he was coherent enough to know who he was.

I had doubts about him going to the Marine Corp, though.
When Mike came to work, the next day, everyone knew

something was wrong. You couldn’t miss it, and I was the blame.
Word got out that Mike partied too hard at my place, the weekend
before, and never came back, mentally. I thought I’d get fired but
didn’t.
Things quieted down a bit until Mike found out he wasn’t going
into the Marines. They didn’t want him due to his mental loss. My
bad, Bro!
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Chapter 47
A lot happens to me during this year. I’m fifteen years old and
heading for a catastrophe, with no one there to stop me or guide me,
just me and my soul. Hang on!
Before Christmas came around, I met two gorgeous twins. A

dude was coming to my place to buy pot and asked me if I wanted to
meet a set of twins. DUMB question! Sure, I did! We got into his car
and drove out to the outskirts of Hickory, in the country. We came
upon a house with a nice Harley and pick-up truck outside. The dude,
(I forget his name, we’ll call him Sam) went to the door and knocked.
Out came two awesomely beautiful twins. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed
baby dolls. He brought them over and introduced them to me.
On the way over, he told me that Sandy was his girlfriend, and
Carla could be with me. Well, after introductions were over with,
Sandy couldn’t stop talking to me. Carla was the quiet one, and Sandy
was talkative. I asked the girls if they wanted to go on a date, and they
went and asked their parents. Sam and I were called into the house.
Their mom was just as beautiful, and their dad was a big, burly, biker.
They said they’d let their daughters go with us if we promised to have
them home safely by midnight. No problem!
We decided to go to a drive-in movie. I got into the back seat

with Carla while Sandy got in the front. Carla and I talked about this
and that, but it was Sandy that had my attention. She stayed turned
around in her seat, talking to me.
It was hard to tell these girls apart. They looked identical,

except for the glimmer of mischief in Sandy’s eyes. For some reason, I
knew she was the one for me.
All through the movie, Carla held my hand and talked. Sandy
didn’t watch much of the movie due to her looking back at us and
joining our conversations. Sam was all alone to watch the movie.
When the movie was over, we drove the girl’s home. I got out of
the backseat with Carla, and she gave me a light kiss, thanking me for
the date. Sandy didn’t kiss Sam at all. Before they went inside, Sandy
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took me by the hand and led me into her house. She asked her mom if
it would be alright for me to come over to see them sometimes, and
they had no problems with it. On our way out of the house, Sandy
whispered to me that on our next date, not to bring Sam. Bring
someone for Carla. Ha!
On our way back to my place, Sam asked me what was said, and
I told him. He was pissed, but what could he do? He left the
apartment, and I never saw him again.
The next day, I got Billy to drive me to the twins’ house. Sandy
came up to me and gave me a kiss right in front of Carla. She said she
and Carla had discussed it, and Sandy wanted me instead of Carla. I
asked Carla if that was true, and she said, “Yes!” I could tell she was
lying. She just gave in to Sandy. We got permission to go “cruising”
with the girls. Sandy got in the back seat with me, and Billy was in
stunned heaven with Carla.
We cruised everywhere getting to know the twins. They were

thirteen years old, in junior high school, and wild. Awesome! Sandy
and I had started kissing and couldn’t stop. Billy and Carla didn’t
care; they were hitting it off, too. We ended up at my apartment.
Sandy and I went to my room and had sweaty sex while Billy and
Carla sat in the living room with Robby. Sandy told me she knew
Carla and I wouldn’t get along because Carla was a virgin. Ha! Poor
Billy!
We dated the twins for a few months. Billy never got past
second base with Carla while I was trying to get Sandy pregnant.
Their mom and dad were in a bad, tragic bike wreck. Their dad
died and their mom was paralyzed from the waist, down. The twins
were devastated. So was I. They were supposed to go live with their
aunt, but she was a drunk, and they didn’t want to live there. When
their mom gained consciousness, she asked me to keep her daughters
safe until she came home. Sandy slept with me, and Carla slept on the
sofa.
They stayed with me for two months, while their mom got
herself a place to settle in. The house they were living in was a rental.
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With the insurance money from the wreck and their dad’s death, she
bought a piece of land and a mobile home, fitted for wheelchair
ramps. The twins went back with their mom when she was ready.
Billy and I dated the twins exclusively throughout the year. Carla still
didn’t give it up. Can you say blue balls?
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Chapter 48
About this time, I had a surprise waiting on me in my driveway

when I got home from work. Mom, May, and some old guy named
Wade, were sitting in a green Plymouth Satellite, full of trash bags of
clothes. I stepped to the car and asked them what was up.
I hadn’t seen Mom and May since I left Mountain View. I was
isolated from them all this time not knowing where they were. Mom
said her and Wade had gotten married. Husband number four.
Husband number three was named Tom. He was a bigger

drunk than she was. That marriage wasn’t even worth discussing. I
ended up burying a steak knife in his back for squatting over Mom
and punching her silly. He got off her quickly when that knife got into
him. Mom only had to get an annulment from him. It lasted about a
month. Sometimes I wish I’d have let him beat her a lil’ bit longer.
Anyway, Wade asked me to let him, Mom, and May stay at my

place until his monthly Veteran’s check arrived on the first of the
month. He said he had lost his license and would gladly give me the
car for rent. I went and asked Robby what he thought about the deal.
They would only be there for two weeks, and Mom said she’d feed
them and keep the place clean. I told Robby Mom was a piece of shit,
but I couldn’t turn away my sister. He agreed. I told them they could
sleep in the living room until Wade’s check came. Then…they had to
go. I’d take his car for payment on rent. My only rules were simple:
NO drinking in my house and NO hitting on May. The drinking part
pissed her off big time! “Those are my rules, take it or leave it!” I said.
Wade and Mom agreed.
I pulled Robby aside and explained to him that I vehemently

refused to let her drink in my apartment. Robby drank beer all the
time, and I still had bottles of liquor on the shelf in the living room. I
didn’t care, Mom wasn’t to drink. He said he understood. He lied.
A few days went by with no problems, but then I came home to

find Robby, Mom, and Wade drunk as skunks. Robby decided to have
a few beers, and Mom, somehow, persuaded him to let them drink,
too. I walked in and snapped on them all. Robby, too.
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I hollered and yelled and told them I’d kick their asses out if
they didn’t do as I say. I took the beer and made Robby go to his room
and drink. Wade apologized, Mom cussed, and May laughed. Mom
knew I wouldn’t kick her out, but it was sweet revenge to be able to
scold her ugly ass. I gave her fair warning.
Just as I thought, two days later, she was hammered. She got
into one of my liquor bottles from the shelf. I came in from work, saw
her drunk, and went directly to her pile of trash bags full of clothes. I
picked up a bag and carried it outside to the Plymouth. I opened the
trunk and stuffed it inside, then I went back for another.
I had been driving the car to work and around town, already.
Wade had signed the title over to me, so I considered it mine. Mom
went to screaming all sorts of crap…… “I gave birth to you!”, “You owe
me!”, “You’ll not keep the car!”, “May stays with me, not you!” Wade
asked me what I was doing, and I told him I was going to take them to
a place and rent them a room for a week. I would pay the rent. He
apologized for Mom, and I told him I fully understood. She was a
dumbass who thought the world owed her everything. FUCK HER! I
owed her NOTHING!!!
I got them loaded up and drove them to an apartment house

that rents rooms for thirty-five dollars a week. I helped them put
their stuff into their room and got May to jump in the car and we
peeled out, leaving Mom standing there mad as hell.
The next day, May wasn’t in my apartment. Mom came and got
her. I kept the Plymouth for a couple of months. I’d go steal five
gallons of gas a night from a local furniture factory truck. One night, I
got gas from another truck. It was diesel and ended my driving fun. I
sold the car for fifty dollars to a junk dealer after that.
Around April, my pot connection got caught and my supply ran

dry. I had to go out and shop for a new connection. My Uncle D.J. told
me about a guy who made runs to Gainesville, Florida and needed
some people to put up some money. He said for five-hundred dollars
I’d get a pound of kick ass reefer called “Gainesville Green”. I told him
I was in.
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He took me to the guy’s house to meet him. It turned out to be a

kid’s dad I knew. The kid sold pills in school; everyone knew of him.
The dad told me he’d take my money, along with D.J.’s and his, and
buy four pounds of pot. He’d split it three ways, equally, with us.
Good deal! I gave him my money and so did Uncle D.J. The man said
he’d go to Florida the next day and be back a couple of days later. I
went on home.
After a couple of days went by, with no word from Uncle D.J., I
called to see what was up. He informed me he already got his share of
the pot the day before. I told him to call the dude and see where my
share was at. I called back in an hour, and he told me that the dude
said he’d have to go back for two more pounds in a couple of days
and I’d get mine then. “NOT GOOD ENOUGH for me!” I said. I went to
the dude’s house.
The dad told me the same sob story about how “his connection
only had two pounds and would get him two more in a couple of
days.” He’d have to go back to Gainesville and pick it up. I asked
where the one-third of the first two pounds was at. He said he gave
Uncle D.J. his pound, and he kept a pound. I demanded my eleven
ounces. He got upset and told me I had to leave. He went and got a
gun to show me he meant business. I asked him if he was robbing me,
and he said he’d have my share in a couple of days. I left.
As Billy was driving me home, I came up with a plan that would

teach this asshole about fucking with Tommy Kaos.
The next day was a work and school day. I knew the father was
a foreman for the City of Hickory, and his son went to school, so when
Billy came over, we went to work on my plan.
We drove to a 7-Eleven, near the dude’s house, and I called his

phone. It rang, and rang, and rang. I left the receiver off the hook and
let it continue to ring. We drove to the guy’s house, and I could hear
the phone ringing inside, letting me know they were all gone. I went
to the back door and kicked it in. Billy and I loaded up his car with
everything we wanted and found. I got about a pound of pot, three
thousand dollars in cash, some guns, two T.V.s, a VCR, and two
stereos. We went back to my place and checked out our bounty.
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I split everything with Billy. We took the T.V.s, VCR, and the
stereos to a fence named Henry. He lived right next door to a Hickory
City cop. That gave Henry all sorts of information. We sold Henry
everything, including the guns. We had taken an old W.W.II rifle,
complete with Bayonet. Henry took all of the guns into his basement
where he had a mini, homemade shooting range. He fired all of the
guns to see if they were good. The only one that didn’t have bullets in
it was the W.W. II. Rifle. Henry told me if I could find a bullet for the
rifle, and it fired okay, he’d give me five hundred dollars for it. I said
I’d check around for one. He gave me a few hundred dollars for
everything else and I left.
Billy and I discussed it and knew that bullet had to have been
overlooked in the guy’s bedroom. We’d wait a couple of days and go
back. I’m always brazen, if not persistent.
The next day, Uncle D.J. came over and accused me of robbing
the guy’s house. I admitted to him that “Yep, it was me.” He asked
why I did it and I told him how the guy acted towards me when I
went over to ask him about my share. He pulled a gun on me, and I
had to do something. He said the guy was going to put a bounty on
my head if he didn’t catch me and kill me himself. I told him to tell the
guy where I lived and to tell him I still had his guns. (NOT!) Uncle D.J.
got mad and left.
A couple of guys from high school came over to buy some pot
and they gave me the same story; the dad came home, saw the door
kicked in and called the cops. There weren’t any fingerprints left
behind, but the neighbor said he saw Billy’s car leaving the area with
a male passenger that looked just like me. Well, I wonder! I told them
it wasn’t us.
The very next day, we pulled the same exact routine. We broke
back into the guy’s house and stole even more stuff. No dope or
money, but another gun and another T.V., and VCR. We hit the freezer
and the fridge again, too. Ha! No bullet, though.
That evening, Uncle D.J. came by to tell me he was

“disappointed” by my actions, and I had stripped him of a reliable pot
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connection. Ha! I laughed in his face. He got mad and left.

Family…...What the fuck?
Weeks went by and not a word from the father and son. I put
them out of my mind and moved on.
A court date arrived for the minor pot bust from what “Mad
Dog Maynard” did on us. I went to the courthouse with seventy-five
dollars in my pocket and a smile on my face. Not to forget, a rental
lease from our apartment. As I entered the courthouse, I saw a black
guy in a nice suit holding a briefcase. I stepped up to him and asked
him if he was a lawyer. He said, “Yes!” I explained my case to him and
asked him what he would charge to handle an offense like mine. He
asked me how much money I had on me. I told him, and he agreed to
represent me. I paid him and we went into court.
As I entered the courtroom, I looked around at everyone there

to see if I knew anyone. There sat the kid of the guy I robbed. I went
over and sat next to him. He was shocked that I’d come sit with him,
but I told him he could try and collect his dad’s bounty when we were
done with court. He told me his dad was arrested after my second B &
E of his house. I looked at him and asked him, “For what?” He said his
dad had a pill operation in his shed/garage out behind their house.
When the investigator came by to check out the house after the first B
& E, the investigator had checked the shed/garage, but it was locked
up tight. His dad had refused to open the garage because he said it
wasn’t broken into. The investigator finished his fruitless inspection
and left, but he had left with suspicions concerning the garage. He
called his boss with suspicions and got a search warrant to search the
garage. The search uncovered his dad’s pill manufacturing operation.
He was arrested and jailed. Ha! Karma is a bitch!
The kid was in court for a traffic ticket, and he said he was
good. He didn’t want any trouble from me. Good for him!
Back to me. The judge called my name and “my attorney”

answered up for me. Mad Dog’s name was called, and he was at a side
table with all sorts of baggies full of my contraband. I just shook my
head looking at this fool. The judge asked me how I pled, and I said,
“Not guilty.” My attorney went on to explain that the search warrant
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was invalid since the apartment wasn’t in my name, nor my place of

residence. I, officially, lived at Grandma’s house. Besides, I was only a
fifteen-year-old kid. The judge asked Mad Dog if he was aware of my
not being a resident at that address, and he testified that his source
said I had been selling marijuana out of the apartment for about a
year and a half. The judge admonished him to get his information
right the next time and dismissed all charges.
I shook hands with my attorney, and we parted ways. I went

home with a smile on my face.
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Chapter 49
Although I was still dating Sandy, I was always a dog. I met a

dude named Will who lived in Fox Run Apartments, the same
apartments that Lisa lived in. Will was a big guy, eighteen years old,
and a good-looking dude. He came over with another dude to buy
some pot, saying he was having a party at his apartment, and I was
invited if I wanted to come. Of course, I’d go. I loved to party.
That evening, I went to Will’s apartment for the party. Come to

find out, Will’s mom was the rental manager for Fox Run Apartments.
His dad was the maintenance man. They lived in one of the three-
floor, three-bedroom apartments. Will had a sixteen-year-old sister
named Jenni. She was a good-looking girl but acted too young for my
tastes. Will’s mom and dad were gone for a few days, so we had the
apartment to ourselves. The party got underway.
I guess you know Lisa showed up. She still looked like the
hottest girl in the room. She saw me and headed straight for me. I
acted indifferent towards her because I didn’t want the trouble that
she caused me. She flirted with Will, but he didn’t pay her any
attention. His girlfriend, Diana, was close by and just as hot as Lisa. I
got Will alone and warned him about Lisa. He said she’d been stalking
him for weeks, and I told him she wasn’t worth his time.
Later that evening, I met a hottie named Liza. She was drunk
and pawing all over me. I asked Will for a room to use, and he sent me
to his sister’s room. I took Liza to it, and we did our thing. Afterwards,
she disappeared on me. Will said her parents came and got her.
We partied on through the night. Jenni got drunk and wouldn’t

leave me alone. Will kept telling her to go to bed, but she refused. She
ended up telling Will she’d go to bed if I tucked her in, looking at me
as sexy as she thought she could, although it was kind of silly seeing
her that way. Will and I escorted her to her room and put her to bed.
She wanted a hug from me and as I leaned down to hug her, she tried
to kiss me. I pulled away laughing and Will was laughing, too, but I
could tell he had something on his mind.
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Since I don’t drink, I was the only sober person still standing at
3 a.m., so I found a spot to crash out and went to sleep.
The next day, we hung out by the pool. Jenni and Diana came
out in bikinis. Later on, Lisa came over, too. Diana and Jenni didn’t
like Lisa; you could tell by how they were looking at her. Jenni saw
how Lisa was comfortable talking to me and she got jealous, and she
went inside. Will pulled me aside and told me his sister had a crush
on me, and for me to please not hurt her feelings. Apparently, she had
some depression issues as a child. WOW! The crazy women I attract.
I went inside Will’s apartment to talk to Jenni. I let her know

that I had a girlfriend, but she was very pretty, and I would date her if
I didn’t have a girlfriend. She wasn’t hearing it. She said she saw me
take Liza into her room to fuck her, so I must not “love” my girlfriend.
I told her I was a dog, and that’s what dogs do. She said she didn’t
care… she wanted the same as Liza got. I was stunned. I was also
interested in seeing this girl naked and lying beneath me. I barely
knew her, or Will, and I didn’t want to upset their family with my
doggish ways. So, I told her I’d have to think about it and left.
Will asked me what went on, and I told him his sister wanted
me in a bad way, but I wasn’t going to hurt her. He thanked me, and
we continued to hang out for a few weeks. He’d bring Diana to my
place to hang out with me, Robby, and Sandy, and I’d go to his place,
sometimes.
One day, I went to Will’s and he and his sister were arguing and
screaming at each other. His sister accused him of being
overprotective and destroying her relationships. He kept saying he
was chasing off the assholes that just wanted in her panties. She
yelled back that she wanted them in her panties. Will slapped her and
she ran upstairs, crying. I didn’t know what to do. Will got upset with
himself for hitting her and told me to go and talk to her. I went up to
her room and she refused to let me in. I shouldered the door open
and sat on the bed next to her. She was still crying when she leaned
into my arms. Poor kid! She cried about Will not letting her have any
boyfriends, that she wasn’t a virgin and how he acted like a warden. I
let her know that Will was just trying to protect her from guys like
me. That he was doing his brotherly thing, and she should be
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thankful. That guys like me were users and dogs that would only
break her heart. She didn’t want to hear it.
I left her and went and talked with Will. He thanked me for
talking to her and I sent him upstairs to apologize and talk to her. Ha!
Me, the family counselor!
Needless to say, I did have sex with his sister. Another drunken
party at Will’s was all it took. Jenni kept me locked in her room for
hours, she definitely wasn’t a virgin. Will acted like it was about time
that I fucked her to shut her up, but I could tell he was still upset
about it. I let her know I wasn’t wanting another girlfriend. She said
she just wanted to fuck me, nothing else. Cool by me!
We all stayed friends for a long time. Jenni and I had sex a few
more times, and she turned into a totally different girl. Gone was the
quiet, depressed girl. She was more friendly and open, and eventually
got a nice boyfriend Will approved of, it of course.
Things at my apartment were getting crazy. One day, Robby

came home with a black girl he knew from work. Robby was a weird
dude and didn’t attract too many girls except when we were in the
band. He got lots of pussy, then.
But normally he didn’t keep a girl for long, so it was good to see
him with one.
He introduced her to us as a, “friend”. We all sat around

smoking pot, and they all drank. It was me, Robby, the black girl, Billy,
Sandy, and Carla sitting in the living room. The black girl turned out
to be very cool and ended up staying the night with Robby.
The next morning, he came out of his room with a big grin on
his face. I asked him what was up, and he said she had good pussy. I
laughed with him, and then she came out. They hung out until they
both had to go to work. It was a Saturday and I had off work, but they
had to go in at 3 p.m.
The black girl said she needed to get someone to put some
louvers on her car’s back windows and mini mud flaps behind her
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tires. I told her I knew how to do it and would gladly help. I drove
them to work and came back home. When I got home I began to
attach the mud flaps. When I got them on, a cab pulled up and the
black girl got out. I asked her what was wrong, and she said that
Robby told her I was going to go joy riding and that I didn’t plan on
doing anything to her car because I didn’t know how.
I was stunned. I told her that she could clearly see that I knew
what I was doing, and she agreed, apologizing for having panicked.
She said her car was her “baby”, and she didn’t want anything bad to
happen to it. I fully understood. I asked her about her night with
Robby, and she said she slept at the foot of the bed, and she didn’t like
Robby like that. To get back at Robby for lying to her, I told her what
Robby said about her; that she had good pussy. She got mad as hell
and left.
That night, I waited up for Robby to come home. When he

walked in the door, he immediately asked me what I had told her. I
stood up and asked him why he’d tell her I would go joy riding. He
said because he figured that that’s what I would do. He then called me
an asshole, and I punched him in his mouth. He collapsed onto the
floor like a little bitch, and he whined that I was nothing more than a
bully. That the black girl came back to work and slapped him for what
he said. I told him he was a piece of shit wimp, and I should stomp his
ass. He cried that he was moving out. I told him he didn’t have to
move, that I’d be going to court in a few weeks, and I was going to
have to do some jail time. I’d move out.
For the past two years, my attorney had gotten numerous

continuances, but it was time to end my court battles. She told me I
was offered four months in the county jail, and five years’ probation
for both counts of breaking and entering the car wash and the drug
dealer’s house. I wasn’t looking forward to it all, but I knew I was on
my way towards change.
When I got my next paycheck, I searched the want-ads for an

apartment, or a room, to rent. I found a room in an old
schoolteacher’s house, just two blocks from Grandma’s. The teacher
taught music but was fired due to being an alcoholic. He rented me a
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nice bedroom for thirty-five dollars a week. I explained to him that I’d
be going to jail in a few weeks, so I’d be gone soon. He understood.
I moved some of my clothes and what music items I had from

Robby’s place. He agreed to store my belongings for me when I did
the four-month jail time. As I was moving my stuff out, I had Billy
help me. Robby pulled me aside and asked me to tell all of my friends
to not come over anymore since I didn’t live there. I looked at him
like the little bitch that he was and asked him when the guys who’d
been coming over for almost two years became just “my” friends
alone? They were his friends, too. He said he wanted to be left alone. I
said I’d tell them all to stay away since he wanted to be a little bitch.
He didn’t like what I said, but he was too pussy to do anything about
it. Billy and I left.
Billy couldn’t believe Robby turned on everyone just because I

moved out. That just made me want to do something to him in a
mean way. The “Bully” was talking in my ear.
The next evening, Billy and I were coming back from Sandy and
Carla’s house when we passed Robby’s apartment. Knowing he was
at work, I told Billy to pull into Robby’s driveway. I had an idea. I
went upstairs and busted the door open. We went inside and began
loading Billy’s car with every record, cassette, speaker, and as much
of Robby’s audio equipment that we could stuff into his car. When we
were done, we took it all to my place.
The next day was Saturday. My landlord would go to the flea

market to set up a spot to sell knickknacks, flowers, and assorted
junk he thought would sell some day. I asked him if I could come
along and take all of my music stuff I had to sell. He said, “Sure!” I
loaded up all my stuff into his station wagon, and off we went to the
Thunderbird Flea Market.
I helped the old man set up his stand and then put my stuff out.
In no time at all, I sold everything to one person. The guy gave me
four-hundred dollars for the whole lot of music and equipment
That evening, I bought a keg and a quarter pound of pot. I

called Billy over the next day, and we loaded up a trash can with ice
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and put the keg in it. We put the trash can in the trunk of his car and
rode around to our friend’s houses to get them drunk and stoned. I
figured I was going to jail, so I wanted to party good and hard
beforehand.
A few days went by before I decided to go back to Robby’s

place. I took Billy with me. I knocked on the door and smiled, seeing
that Robby replaced the locks. He opened the door and let me in.
Black Bobby was on the loveseat. He said he couldn’t afford to pay
the tuition into music school in California, so he came back home.
Robby told me that one of MY friends had broken into his place and
stole everything. I went around the apartment acting surprised at
seeing all his precious equipment and album collection gone. I had a
mini amp and guitar stored in the bedroom closet. I asked him if the
thief got that, too. He said they were still there. I told him I was going
in search of the culprits and when I found them, I’d beat their ass. I
smoked a joint with him and Black Bobby, and Billy and I left.
I know I know…. I’m an asshole! Well, I was born into Kaos and
it’s just how it was. At the time, I had no remorse.
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Chapter 50
Next stop, court! On my final day of freedom, Billy came to take

me to court. We smoked a few joints on the drive over. The day
before, I picked up ten hits of acid from Donna, said, “Good-bye” to
everyone, and said I’d see them in 120 days. I had an ounce of pot and
the ten hits of acid in my underwear. I was ready for jail.
We sat in the court’s parking lot until it was time for me to go

inside. I met my lawyer outside of the courtroom. She had a
recruiting officer from the Marine Corp with her. She said she was
going to try one, last-ditch effort to try and get me into an R.0.T.C.
Program since I said I’d love to be a marine. She asked me all sorts of
questions from some questionnaire, and when she got to the part
asking me, “Are you on any kind of drugs at the moment?” I said,
“Yes!” She looked at me and asked me what I was on, and I said
marijuana. She got frustrated with me and asked me how she could
help me if I was going into court stoned?
The marine looked disgusted at me. I was so high I didn’t give a

fuck. I told her to drop all the bullshit and let’s go into court and get
me in a cell.
We went inside and waited until they called my name. We

stood up, and she told the judge about the marine wanting to help me
by putting me into a two-year program for R.0.T.C. where I’d go into
the Marine Corp. when I turned eighteen. The judge didn’t even think
about it. He said I was going to jail first; then, if the marine still
wanted me, he’d put me there. I got pissed off. He asked me the same
exact questions that my attorney asked. When he got to the part
asking me if I was on any drugs, my attorney looked over at me. She
told me to say “NO” when he asked, but I said, “Sure I am!” The judge
asked me what type of drug I was on, and I said marijuana. He asked
how long ago I had smoked, and to be a smart ass, I said I smoked one
in the parking lot before I came in. He looked at me over top of his
glasses and said that my case was suspended until the next morning
due to my “Not being aware of my actions” Ha! One more day of
freedom, Billy and I left, laughing like idiots. The next day, I got
stoned again, but I didn’t think the judge would set it off again if I
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admitted to being high, so I said, “NO!”, when he asked the question

again; I was led away in cuffs.
I wasn’t strip searched when I went into jail, so I kept my weed

and acid in my underwear. I was dressed in tan stretch pants, and a
tan pull-over top with the words “Catawba County Jail” across the
back, in bold fluorescent orange. I was given hard, heavy, rubber
slides in place of my shoes. I was then led into a cell block; cell block
two, and cell number four.
Getting settled in was easy. I knew one of the guys in the quad,
Marco. He was a lanky, stringy guy with a bad limp. He had a stroke
when he was seventeen years old due to too much moonshine. I knew
him from various pool halls. His sister was a whore that everyone
loved; she’d give you a blow job just to smoke a joint with her. Marco
was in for a D.U.I.
He introduced me to a few other guys, and I let them know I

had weed. I made a lot of friends that night. Another guy in the cell
block was a career convict, named Jim. He bragged about being in out
of prison all over the United States. He said his specialty was
escaping. He was on escape from another state when he got caught in
Hickory for a whole bunch of charges. He had stolen a vehicle and
was following a coin consolidated truck. This truck drove around
multiple places and kept change machines stocked with change.
There wasn’t a guard with the female driver of the truck he was
following for some odd reason. He ended up kidnapping the woman
and took her to a wildlife park and raped her. He took her into the
woods, tied her to a tree and left her. On his way out of the woods, a
park ranger was looking at the coin truck, wondering why it was
sitting by itself next to the woods. Jim decided to act like he was just
in the woods taking a piss and approached the ranger, startling him.
The ranger pulled his weapon on Jim. While Jim had his hands up,
trying to explain himself, the woman began to start screaming from
the woods. Jim was caught, charged, and jailed. To me, he seemed like
a dude I could learn some criminally minded stuff from, so I talked to
him a lot.
After about two weeks, I was bored out of my skull. The quad
consisted of fifteen cells in an L shape. Cells one through six were
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along the wall coming into the quad, and cells seven through fifteen
were down the other side. The quad had one camera looking into it,
right over the quad entrance. We could see the T.V. monitors from
our quad and could see that cells one and two were in a blind spot.
Jim told me of his escape plan. He lived in cell two.
In the cells, our lights were behind thick glass and steel. Jim
knocked the glass out with a mop handle, in his cell. He was able to
get the light out so you could see into the pipe-chase where
maintenance could work on the water line or toilets if they broke.
Outside of the cells, between every two cells, is the pipe-chase door.
Its bottom rim is the hinge. To open the door, you have to unlock the
door with a huge key. The door will open into the quad, all the way to
the ground. To get into the chase, you’d simply walk up the ramp-like
door and do what you had to do inside the chase.
Marco was a skinny-guy and very narrow. He had the idea that
if he greased himself down with Vaseline, that he could work himself
into the hole where his light was. With nothing else to do, I helped
him check his theory. Sure enough, he got his head through the space,
and like a cat, the rest of his body followed. I covered the light with a
towel and went into the day room area to keep an eye on the guards.
Jim was going up into the roof to check out a way to escape.
When he came back, after about forty-five minutes, he was

smiling. He said he had a way out. He asked me if I wanted to go with
him. I felt I had nothing better to do, so I said, “SURE!” I figured if I
could get out, I could get back in. I’d go call Billy and have him bring
me some weed. Once I had the weed, I’d go back and finish my time.
What a jackass I was.
Jim even went around the quad and asked a few of the other
guys if they wanted to go, but only one dude said yes ...Marco. This
guy hobbled around the quad all day long. I just knew he wouldn’t
last when we hit the ground running. Jim scheduled our escape for
after the 7 p.m. Count; that would give us three full hours before
another count came along. I was smiling; I just knew I’d make it out
and back in, in less than an hour.
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Right on cue, 7 p.m. came and went. As soon as the officer went
back to his office, Jim and I went to it. Jim got greased up and I
pushed him through the light. He had taken a piece of steel he found
in the roof and broke the lock on the pipe-chase door between his cell
and cell one. He had it tied off to a pipe with ripped sheets. He undid
the sheet, and I opened the door long enough for Marco to climb
through, then myself. We climbed up the chase right behind Jim. He
led us through our quad, which was cell six. He had broken the pipe-
chase’s lock there, too. It opened to the outside. He untied the piece of
sheet holding the door open and it fell open into the grass behind the
jail. We were free! Ha!
We hit the ground running. We took off, Marco passed both of

us. We went directly towards the woods. Jim said we had to go a
certain way through the woods to come out behind the Western Steer
Steakhouse. We came out behind the steakhouse in a few minutes
and hid behind a hill and looked at all the cars in the parking lot. It
was Friday evening, and the place was packed.
Jim voted me to be the one to go inside to call Billy. All we had

was green money, no change, so I had to go to the cash register and
get change for a dollar. I looked crazy. I had long, ratty hair and was
wearing jail clothes with the fluorescent words; “County Jail” on my
back. The cashier got my change for a dollar just as the manager came
walking up. I knew him. He was the manager at the first steakhouse I
had worked at, the nice manager. He saw me and got all smiley and
talkative and asked me if I wanted a job. I said, “No thanks. I’m
working construction and my truck just broke down.” It was all I
could think of on such short notice. I said, “Good-bye”, and got away
from them. I went into the vestibule and used the pay phone to call
Billy.
Billy freaked out. I told him the jail screwed up and let me out
too soon. I told him to go buy some pot and pick me up. He was
hesitant, but he said he’d be along, shortly. I told him to meet us at
Hardees, which was just around the corner. We had to get the hell
away from the steakhouse. Looking inside, I saw four state troopers
eating dinner.
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I went back outside and got Jim and Marco. We made our way
toward Hardees. Thank God it was dark outside. The only thing that
bothered us was the bright orange, “JAIL” words on our backs. We
headed to Hardees and it, too, was jam-packed. We skirted the
parking lot and hid in the fenced-in dumpster.
It seemed like hours, but was only about thirty minutes, when
Billy pulled into the parking lot in a brand-new convertible Camaro Z-
28. He had the top down, and cruising. I ran out of the enclosure and
went to his car. He was freaking out seeing me in jail garb, and he
really got nuts seeing the two guys with me. Jim and Marco got in the
back, and I jumped in the front. I told Billy to put the top up and get
us the hell out of there.
We drove past the jail, and I could see there was nothing going
on there, so they didn’t know we were gone yet. I asked Billy how
much weed he brought, and he pulled out two joints. DAMN! I asked
him why he only brought two joints and he said he was supposed to
buy some the next day. All he had left was the two sticks. “Sorry,” he
said, as we drove past the jail. I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to
go and get more weed and get back in. FUCK IT! We were on the run!
Always the thinker, I told Billy to take me to Robby’s place. All

of my clothes were stashed there, so I could get us out of our prison
garb. I also had a guitar and amp that I knew my old friend, Todd,
would want to buy. Maybe he’d buy it so I could get some pot.
When we got to Robby’s, I knew I had to surprise him

drastically or he’d freak out, so I went up to his apartment with Billy,
Jim, and Marco in tow. Robby opened the door and was obviously
shocked to see me. Even more when I took him in the kitchen and
told him I had escaped. He was on the edge of panic. I had to calm him
down and tell him that I needed my clothes so we could change. He
took me to the spare bedroom’s closet and gave them to me. I got
myself some jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. I called Jim
and Marco to the room and clothed them as well.
Jim kept telling me to take him to a house on the lake where

he’d take off on his own once he saw his girlfriend. I told Robby that I
was going to take Jim to his girlfriend’s, then run by Todd’s to sell him
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the guitar and amp. I told him I was leaving Marco with him until we
got back. He started whining about leaving him alone with Marco. Ha!
He was scared to death. Marco did look like a murdering maniac
more than Jim or myself: I was adamant about leaving Marco, so he
agreed he could stay there until we came back. I pulled Marco aside
and told him to keep an eye on Robby and not to let Robby leave. He
vowed to not let him out of his sight. Me, Billy, and Jim loaded up in
the Z-28 and headed towards the lake. We let Jim out at the house he
pointed to, and we took off for Todd’s.
Billy kept calling me a “damned fool.” I kept telling him to “shut

the hell up and drive.” He asked me what I’d do, and I told him I guess
I had to run. I told him to get as much money as he could the next day,
and then drive me to the North Carolina-South Carolina border. I’d
head to Florida from there. He said he’d steal a couple of hundred
dollars from his mom when she was asleep and pick me up at Robby’s
in the morning. That was our plan, anyway.
We got to Todd’s house, and I knocked on the back door. He

answered the door surprised to see me. He knew I was serving four
months in jail, but it had only been two weeks. He asked me what was
up, and I told him. He laughed his ass off at me. I asked him if he still
wanted my guitar and amp and he said, “hell yeah!” I asked him what
he’d give me, and he surprised me by saying an ounce of reefer. Since
I was in jail, someone had to pick up my customers, he said. He
bought a pound and called everyone. Well, except for Billy. Now Billy
knew, too. He gave me an ounce and we left. Todd wished me luck,
and off we went back to Robby’s.
Before we got there, we ran into a roadblock. It was a very long

line of cars with lots of police lights up ahead. I told Billy to slow
down while I jumped out. I’d run down past the roadblock and meet
him down the road. I slipped out of the car and ran like a demon
through backyards and side roads. I passed the roadblock and got
behind a parked truck to await Billy’s car. When he came close to me,
I jumped out and dove into his car. We laughed and went to Robby’s.
As I had Billy pull up to Robby’s, I told him I'd see him the next
morning. I figured I’d be safe at Robby’s because no one had known I
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had lived there. I forgot about Mad Dog’s search warrant; it didn’t
matter, anyway. Billy left, and I started up the stairs.
Before I reached the door, Marco was yelling for me to get

away from the apartment. He came running to me from the railroad
tracks. I ran to him, and he said that Robby had run out of the
apartment and down the road. He went to take a piss and came out
and saw the door open. He saw Robby running like a madman. Marco
ran to the tracks and waited to see what happened. We went back to
the tracks.
No sooner than we got on the tracks, we heard the helicopter

coming. Then we heard cars coming from everywhere. They got
sideways pulling into the parking lot of the apartment. Cops came out
with guns aiming at the apartment. The helicopter aimed its spotlight
on the house.
Marco and I got behind a huge stack of railroad planks and

watched the cops kick in the apartment door. Time to run!
We took off running down the railroad tracks, away from the
apartment. We ran for a few blocks and came up behind the exact
Circle K Store that Robby had called the cops from. We hid behind a
dumpster and watched the police traffic go up and down Highland
Ave. When it looked clear enough, we took off from behind the
dumpster and went across the street into a trailer park. We crept
through it, and beyond to another neighborhood.
I knew this neighborhood like the back of my hand. A friend

named Jake, and two brothers from a rival band called, “Paine” lived
on the same street. Also on the street was an abandoned house we
used to party in. Jake lived in the house right next door.
We got to the abandoned house and went on the back porch.

We collapsed onto an old sofa to rest. We could hear sirens and cars
speeding all over the place. The helicopter was still a few blocks
away, over by Robby’s. We were good right where we were. We
smoked a joint to calm down. Afterwards, I went next door to call on
Jake.
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His mom answered the door saying Jake was out and about on
his new moped. I told her I’d be back in a while and went back to the
abandoned house. I sat down on the sofa and Marco, and I
contemplated our plight. What the fuck are we going to do???
I guessed that Jake would help us, but there wasn’t any
guarantee. We could just hide out in the old house until we were
caught or try to get out of Hickory. I really had no idea of what I was
going to do. I only left the jail to get some pot. I got some now, so I
was content with going back. I wasn’t thinking of any real
repercussions coming at me because I was only fifteen years old (but
charged as an adult) and not any serious threat to anyone. Jim was
the threat and the mastermind.
Marco and I decided to just sit back and see what happened.
After about thirty minutes, Jake came running through his

backyard, pushing his moped. I came off the back porch and yelled at
him. He dropped his moped and ran into the house. I ran around the
house and knocked on the front door. His mom answered the door
again, saying Jake wasn’t home yet. No sooner than she said that Jake
burst through the basement door. He saw me standing at the door
and told me to get inside. I told him to wait one moment, and I went
and got Marco.
We went up to Jake’s bedroom, and he was freaking out. He

said he was stopped about five times by the police. They were
everywhere looking for us. He turned on his T.V., and we were all
over the news channels. I asked Jake if we could crash out with him
until the next day. I was supposed to meet Billy and flee North
Carolina. He went and got his mom and dad and asked them. They
were cool parents. They were worried at first, but I promised them
I’d not let anything happen to them because of me. They told me not
to leave the house. I agreed. Me, Jake, Marco, Jake’s brother, and the
mom and dad sat around watching T.V. and smoking pot, laughing all
the while.
The next morning, I tried calling Billy, but got no answer. I tried
to call all that day until Billy’s mom answered. I asked for Billy, but
she said he was out. I tried all day long, but never got through to him.
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I called later that night; his mom answered and told me not to call
Billy anymore. She saw the news and didn’t want Billy anywhere near
me. I hung up, depressed. I had no idea what to do.
The next day, I had Jake’s 'brother go to Jefferson Leather to get

Tiny or Manny to come see me. Manny came over on his lunch break.
I asked him if he thought he could get my last paycheck from the
supervisor, and he said he’d try. I told him to tell the supervisor it
was for my mom. He said if he could, he would, if not…he wouldn’t
come back. “Good luck,” he said and left. He never came back.
The next day, I got Jake’s brother to drive me to Jefferson

Leather. I’d go in and get my check myself. Everyone told me it was
too dangerous. Having Manny go to the supervisor for my check,
everyone knew the cops would be waiting on me. I felt I had to do
something. I had no money and no plan. All I had was about a half
ounce of reefer left and no idea as to my future.
Marco and I got on the floorboard in the back of Jake’s

brother’s car and off we went.
We cruised the area around the company and didn’t see one
cop car. We went by Richie’s apartment and a cop car was parked
outside; the cop was sitting in his car. We drove back around the
company some more. After a few passes around the block, I had
Jake’s brother drop me off in front of the building. I got out and ran
inside the entrance.
Once inside, I turned to my left and saw the supervisor sitting

at his desk in his office. He looked up at me and reached for the
phone. I ran into his office and snatched the phone-cord out of the
wall. I told him to give me my check and I’d be out of there. He was
shaking all over but began going through his file cabinet looking for
my check. I heard a noise and looked behind me. A state trooper was
standing around the corner by the front entrance door aiming a gun
at me. I slammed the office door shut. With my back to the door, the
supervisor reached out to me to hand me my check, begging me to
give myself up. Right then, the door was kicked in and I was knocked
down. Two state troopers wrestled me down and hand-cuffed me.
They got me up and walked me outside.
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Talk about crazy. There were at least ten cop cars in the
parking lot, news vans, an ambulance, and all sorts of state vehicles
started pouring in. I was led to a police car to be put inside when I
heard someone yelling my name. Kathy was standing by the loading
dock along with all the other co-workers. She was yelling at the police
to be easy with me and not to hurt me. As I was placed inside the cop
car, news cameras appeared all around me. I leaned on my side and
began kicking at the backdoor window. It shattered, and people
began to scream. The news people were pushed aside as two cops
wrestled me out of the cop car. They took me to another cop car and
jumped into the back with me. We were driven off and away from
Jefferson Leather.
As we were leaving, I saw Jake’s brother’s car at the end of the

street with cops all around it. I told the cops that Jake’s brother was
innocent and had no idea about the escape. The cops laughed at me
and told me to shut the fuck up.
We arrived at the county jail where I had just escaped from.

More news cameras were waiting on me. When I was being brought
out of the cop car, a newsman asked me if I’d do it again if I got the
chance. I laughed and told him I couldn’t wait to do it again.
All of the guards came up to me to welcome me back. They

were laughing with me, and I didn’t feel any anger towards me from
my escape. They were treating me like a celebrity. CRAZY!
I was put back in jail clothes and put in a solitary confinement

cell. I still had my weed, but nothing to smoke it with...Sigh!
About four hours later, Marco was put into the cell next to me.
He said when he saw the cops zooming in on me, he jumped out of
Jake’s brother’s car and ran off. The cops got a dog on his trail. They
got him stuck up a tree about two miles away. Ha! That dude sure
could run.
A week later I was taken to court and was told I’d be charged
with a felony escape. Marco and Jim weren’t charged: They were both
awaiting trial on their charges. I was doing the time as a convicted
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felon; therefore, I’d get the escape charge not them UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!!!
Jim got caught the same night. He got drunk at his girlfriend’s
house, and she kicked him out. He got picked up walking down the
road, thumbing a ride. DUMBASS!
After a month of solitary confinement, I was put back into

another cell block. This time, I was placed in an “elderly” quad with a
bunch of old guys and wheelchair-bound dudes. I at least got to
smoke my pot.
When I went to court for the escape, I was given two years,
mandatory. I had to finish my four-month sentence, then go to prison
for two years. I’d STILL have to do five-years-probation. What a
dumbass I was!!!
Billy came to see me on visiting day. He and Carla broke up due

to her being a virgin. He and Sandy had sex on a drunken night, and
he was scared to death that I would kill him when I got out. I told him
I’d rather it be him with her than anyone else. He’s still my friend.
Sandy came with him but wanted him to tell me before she came in to
talk to me. She cried and cried, apologizing to me for cheating with
Billy. I forgave her and told her to have a nice life; I was going away
for two years. I asked her to tell her mom that I’d miss her and wish
her the best. I walked out of the visiting room while Sandy began to
cry.
Mom, Grandma and Uncle Rob brought May to see me. May had
run away from wherever Mom was staying and was found in Ohio.
She was brought back home by the police. May tried to tell them of
the abuse that Mom dished out, but, as usual, no one believed her. She
felt hopeless without me. It broke my heart to not be able to help her.
I told Mom, in front of Grandma and Uncle Rob, that if she hurts May,
in any way, I’d make her pay for it. She didn’t say anything as she got
up and left. Soon thereafter, they all left, too.
On my 160th day, I was packed up and shipped to “High Rise”

Morganton Correctional Institution in Morganton, North Carolina. It’s
a sixteen-story building out in the country. I was put on the
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thirteenth floor in cell C-4 (wing C, cell 4). I did two straight years in
that cell.
The two years weren’t a complete waste. I got my G.E.D. the

first month I was there. I also got into working out and became a
muscle-bound maniac. I learned a little piano and guitar, but nothing
serious.
The two years went slowly; I only had a few visits while I was
there. Kathy came to see me each time. She brought Grandma once,
but that was it. It was a lonely couple of years, yet I don’t blame
anyone but myself. I created my experiences, as I still do.
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Chapter 51
I spent two full years at “High-Rise”. The only person I knew

was Tokyo who was there for violating his probation. He kept getting
D.U.I.’s for driving his mom's car. We’d talk every now and then, but
not a lot. I stayed to myself. I trusted no one.
I was released after my 18th birthday. A state trooper drove

me home. Well, he drove me to Grandma’s house, the only place I
could call home.
I walked up to Grandma’s door and knocked. She answered the

door and had no idea who I was. That wasn’t surprising; I had grown
a beard, a mustache, and my hair was way down my back. Not to
forget that I was 185 pounds of muscle. I definitely didn’t look like
the Tommy who left two years earlier. When I told her who I was, she
immediately told me to go shave my face. Ha! I went inside and
shaved.
During my prison term Robbie had moved out of town. He gave

Billy my clothes, and Billy gave them to Grandma. At least I had my
clothes, or so I thought…. Half of my clothes were missing. When I
asked Grandma about it, she said Uncle Rob was wearing some. It
pissed me off, but I simmered down by the time he came walking in
the door when he got off of work.
When he seen me sitting on the sofa, he couldn’t believe his

eyes. He acted happy to see me, but I saw the nervousness in his
weary eyes. He was wearing a pair of my jeans and one of my favorite
heavy metal T-shirts. I told him that I appreciated him for holding
onto my clothes for me, but I needed them back.
I knew I had to be diplomatic when dealing with Uncle Rob,

especially if I wanted to stay at Grandma’s place long enough to get a
job and an apartment. I knew there was no way I’d be allowed to stay
long, especially with Uncle Rob and Uncle Joe running things. Uncle
Rob still considered himself “The man of the house.” Ha! Mama’s boy!
He’s pathetic, weak, and a pathological liar. Everything I didn’t like.
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I called Billy to let him know I was free for real this time, and
he said he’d see me the next day. Cool! I needed to go see a special
woman in my life, anyway.
I met Kathy in her driveway. She burst into tears and gave me a
huge hug and kiss. I asked her what her neighbors would think, and
she said, “Screw them!” I told her it was me she needed to screw. She
agreed and led me into her apartment. Her son was at his dad's until
8 p.m., so I guess you know.... I released lots of pent-up tension.
Afterwards, we discussed what I’d do for work, and a place to

live. She said she’d vouch for me when I needed a reference for an
apartment, and she’d co-sign to help me turn on the power. We
laughed when I told her I thought about going back to Jefferson
Leather and trying to get my job back. Yeah, right! She said that I had
upset everyone with my escape-antics. But she was more worried
over my safety than anything else. She asked me why I didn’t come to
her house for help when I escaped, and I told her I didn’t want to put
her or her son in harm’s way. I may have been an asshole, but I was
very conscientious where she was concerned. She cried and loved me
some more.
Later on, she gave me $100 and told me to go see my probation

officer. I still had five years’ probation hanging over my head. I took
her money and her smell with me as I went to Grandma's for the
night. Freedom smells like a woman. AHHHHHH! So beautiful!
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Chapter 52
The next day, Billy came and picked me up at 8 a.m. He looked

exactly the same, except for a mustache. He thought it looked cool on
him. He was happy to see me and handed me a fat baggy of skunk bud
and said, “Roll one up, FOOL!” I rolled two. We cruised around as I
told him the stories of my two-year prison stay. He looked up to me
like I was his big, badass brother. That’s why I asked him about his
purple/black eyes.
He said he was at a party a few nights before, and some dude

punched him in the eye and knocked him down. He said he was very
drunk and couldn’t defend himself. I asked him who the asshole was,
and he refused to tell me. I understood, but I still didn’t like it. I’d kick
whoever’s ass and be done with it.
He kept apologizing to me for his sexually deprived times with

Sandy and I kept telling him to forget it. He was scared I was going to
punch him in the face at any minute. (He remembered my past
fights). When I assured him that I wasn’t going to hit him because of
Sandy, he got relaxed. We drove on, but I blasted him in the jaw while
we were sitting at a stoplight! He shrieked and cowered in the corner
of the driver’s seat. I called him an asshole for not driving 50 miles to
come see me. “You’re supposed to be my friend, right?” I asked him.
He said “Yeah, I am!” I said then drive through the green light before
it turns red, and we took off.
He kept glancing at me and then called me an asshole. Ha!

“Yeah, that’s me! But so are you,” I said.
We drove around until lunch time. He told me Sandy had

become a coke whore and hit the local bars regularly. I asked him
how many times he’d seen her, and he said just a few drunken nights.
I let him alone and thought, “Fuck it! Quit worrying about it!” He said
Carla got pregnant by some country boy. UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!! Billy never got her cherry.
We pulled into Pat and Bill’s place. It still looked the same. As
he put the car in park, Billy tensed up and said, “Oh shit!” I asked him
what was up, and he was pointing to a guy who was walking to his
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car and said that was the dude who hit him. I opened the car door.
Billy shot out of his door and tried to intercept me. The dude saw
Billy and walked over. I told him to come to me. I had something to
tell him. This dork just walked right up to us, so I kicked him in the
jaw. His head snapped back, and he dropped like a sack of shit.
I stood over him and talked shit to him, telling him if I ever saw
him again, I’d do the same thing to him, over and over again. He
scrambled up, got in his car, and peeled out of there.
Billy laughed and said “I can’t take you anywhere! Asshole!” Ha!
We went inside laughing like idiots.
The first person I saw was Rodney. I thought, “He’s still

working here? Home Sweet Home.”
I told Rodney, Pat, and Bill the same things I told Billy, except
for not coming to see me part. I didn’t know them like that. We shot
some pool, took Rodney outside and got him stoned, and then took
off for God knows where. Driving! Talking! Bull shitting! Like the
good old days.
The next day, I went to my probation office, which was at the

courthouse, just down the hall. I was told to talk to a certain man, so I
went down the hall and knocked on the door marked “Probation-
Corrections”. An elderly man about 90 years old opened the door. He
said for me to sit in a chair until he could find my file and get my
paperwork. After a good 15 minutes went by, he gave up. He asked
me my name, age and how many years’ probation I had, and he made
me give him $20 for a monthly fee. He told me to come back in 30
days. “Okay with me!” I replied and left.
This old man was in that office, but he was really lost. I
watched him go around his desk, in a daze for 15 minutes.
Alzheimer’s, dementia, retarded, etc. Something had his brain in a
cycle of dumbassness. I had my doubts about my next visit.
Billy and I went to see some of my old gang, and we smoked

out. I was home but so shiftless, I wasn’t sure about what was going
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to happen next. I had zero prospects and little funds. I didn’t want to
go robbing so soon out of prison.
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Chapter 53
I went searching for a job the very next day. First place I
walked into hired me. United Van Lines needed furniture movers. I fit
that bill. I was outright honest with the boss, and he said he’d give me
a chance. I was to start work the following Monday making eight
dollars an hour under the table. Fine by me.
I hung out for the weekend with all my friends and Kathy. I saw
Sandy at the bar. She looked good, but used and drained. I could tell
she wasn’t happy with her life.
On Monday, I reported to work and met my new coworkers. It

was a burly bunch of misfits, and one woman. I was placed on a
moving truck—a long, flat-panel truck with a guy who thought he
looked like, Dale Earnhardt. He resembled him, but it wasn’t that
noticeable. Yes, everyone called him Earnhardt. My other coworker
was a long-haired dude named Skeeter. Earnhardt was the driver.
Skeeter and I were the apes. We lugged all the boxes and furniture to
and from the truck. Earnhardt catalogued everything. His was the
easy job everybody wanted. He got a huge percentage of the move’s
pay, too. We did all sorts of moves, and in all sorts of places. It was a
good job, but tough.
Skeeter turned out to be an awesome guitarist with a pretty

good band. The lead singer sucked, but they liked him for his
“showmanship”; he gyrated while they jammed. Girls liked him. I told
him of my past jam days, and he said he remembered seeing us at
Bears and liked us. Cool! Afterwards, Skeeter kept pestering me to
sing for his band, but I refused; I didn’t want that lifestyle again due
to the probation. He said he understood, and then told me about a
party he was having at his house on the lake. His parents bought a
condo and gave him and his brother the lake house. Cool! I said I’d be
there. It was to be the following weekend.
The job turned out to be a good one. I enjoyed the feel of

working with the other guys. If I could feel like this with family then it
all might have been a bit of heaven…but, not to be.
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Uncle Rob became his usual, pitiful self: sitting in Grandma’s

living room like a king, thinking it was his domain, only he tried to
say out-of-the-way remarks to me about coming in late at night. I just
laughed at him, saying, “Fuck you!” in my mind. I had “sized” him up,
so-to-speak, when I first laid eyes on him again. To me, he was just a
knockout waiting to happen. From me to him was an instant if I so
chose to have him hurting. I let him act out his “domain ship” until I
could get my own apartment. I was looking already. Kathy said she’d
lend me some money for my place, and I got paid that Friday, so yeah,
I needed to move. ASAP!
I found a one-bedroom apartment just two blocks from the

abandoned house I hid in while I was on my escape. I went and
rented it, then went to Grandma’s house and didn’t tell anybody
about it. I was itching to pick a fight with Uncle Rob. Probation be
damned!
When I came into the house, Uncle Rob was in his usual spot on
the sofa. He had some country music playing on Grandma’s record
player. Grandma was in her room lying down.
Uncle Rob looked like he’d had a few beers already when I
stopped and looked at him. I shook my head and kept on walking,
going upstairs to my room.
It wasn’t long before Rob came up, also. His was the room with
a door. He had left it open and didn’t trust me. HA! I was sitting on my
twin bed rolling a joint. He looked at me, then at the pot, and told me I
better not smoke that in his mama’s house. I told him I didn’t plan on
smoking it indoors, and he acted all high and mighty, saying that he
paid the bills at Grandma’s house, and his rules would be law. I
laughed in his face. He told me to get up off the bed. I looked at him
and saw that he was serious. Okay! I stood up and kicked him in the
stomach, hard. He flew back into his bedroom. In he went, right onto
his ass. I rushed into the room to attack him, but he was coiled up like
a newborn, whining like a bitch.
Grandma came to the bottom of the stairs, asking what

happened. I told her to ask her precious son. She told me she wasn’t
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going to put up with me beating on her son, and I had to leave. Fine
with me.
I gathered my belongings and went to Kathy’s to stay the night.

I looked over at Uncle Rob and smiled. My look said, “Fuck you!”
The next day, I went to my new apartment. I had very little

furniture, but it was mine. It was nice and quiet, too. The place was a
duplex. My next-door neighbor was a quiet woman who stayed to
herself.
I invited a few friends over to “christen” the new place with pot
smoke. Skeeter came over and reminded me of the lake house party
that Saturday. “I’d be there,” I said.
For the rest of the week, I worked and added a few pieces of
furniture to my apartment. A lot of people tend to throw out furniture
when they move, so I was able to acquire a couple of tables and a
desk. The rest of my stuff came from Kathy and the Goodwill Store.
The landlord said I could do all the painting that I chose to, as long as
it wasn’t crazy. No problem! I painted the ceiling checkerboard black
and white and the walls zebra striped. Everyone thought I was nuts,
but I was just bored. Landlord, be damned!
On Saturday, Billy came and picked me up around noon. We

drove to Lake Hickory to try and find Skeeter’s house. It was way out
off on some dirt roads, but we finally tracked him down. The house
sat back close to the woods with a large yard edged by the lake. They
had a small boathouse and a dock, as well.
Skeeter came out to greet us, and introduced us to his brother,

Sammy. Sammy played the drums in Skeeter’s band. There were a
few people already there. Of course, there were some tight, blue-jean
shorts wearing babes there, too. Lots of groupies, too. I got myself a
soda and walked about meeting everyone. Skeeter and his bandmates
were putting together equipment to jam for everyone. It was set up
outside. I had my eyes on the girl.
In an hour or so, Skeeter’s band started jamming music.

Skeeter was correct about the lead singer not being that good. He
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sounded like a squalling cat that was hit by a car. I didn’t think I could
take much more of that crap. During an intermission, I was talking to
a fine little honey named Cheryl. She looked to be about 20 years old
but was really 36. She was short, healthy, and very pretty. She also
said she was taking me home with her that evening. There were other
younger girls there, but Cheryl was the hottest. Skeeter came over to
me and asked me to sing a song in the next set. I tried to refuse until
Cheryl begged me to. When the band got ready to jam again, I stepped
up to the mic, nervous as hell, and belted out, “Screaming for
Vengeance” by Judas Priest. AH, it felt good to scream again. I was
way out of practice, but I didn’t do too, bad. I was an instant success
with the crowd. They yelled, “Encore” and we did Van Halen’s, “Mean
Street” and AC DC’s, “Have a Drink on Me”; good times abound.
Afterwards, Cheryl was all over me. The other girls couldn’t get
close. Skeeter and his bandmates were liking my style, but their
singer wasn’t. He wasn’t going to say anything out of the way to me
because of my size and due to the fact that Skeeter told everyone
about my “great escape”. Besides, he saw me as a crazy psychopath
instead of some dumb asshole who got caught up with a real escape
artist. Besides all that, the party went great. Cheryl took me out to the
boathouse and gave me a blow job to seal our “togetherness”. What
the hell? She was the hottest girl (woman) there, even if she was 36
years old.
After a few more songs, my voice couldn’t take it. Everyone

understood, and Skeeter’s lead singer took over again. Everyone
mingled and got drunk or stoned, and we partied until early morning.
Cheryl had me drive her to her apartment, and we fell on her living
room floor and fucked until we passed out.
We were awakened by her roommate saying, “Ahem!” very

loudly. We were both bare-ass naked, stretched out on the living
room floor. I snatched my pants on, feeling embarrassed. I had a piss
hard-on that wouldn’t go down. After excusing myself to the closest
bathroom, I came back into the living room to officially meet her
roommate: big, beautiful, Maria.
I had my eye on Maria in high school. She was the big-boned

type of girl that normal guys were afraid of. Only footballers or
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wrestlers dated her. She was also very, very gorgeous. Blonde hair,
blue eyed, big tits, nice ass, and long legs, with a killer smile. She said
she remembered me from high school with a look in her eyes that
said, “trouble-maker”. Yeah, she knew me. She apologized for
disturbing us, but said she had company coming over and didn’t want
them to step into a porno in her living room. We laughed, and Cheryl
took me upstairs so we could shower
Cheryl was very hot for being 36 years old. I didn’t have any
hang-ups against older women since all the past experience schooled
me on how to treat them. We talked about our lives and future plans
until her roommate’s company came over. I knew them both: my old
friend Will and his girlfriend, Diana.
They were surprised seeing me, but we all had a good laugh at
my exploits. They had come over to purchase some pot from Maria.
Surprise! Surprise! She was the local dealer. We sat around and
talked and laughed until they had to leave. Cheryl gave me a ride
home, saying she had to open up her clothing store at 9 a.m. She was
the proud owner of a Gap Clothing Store in our local mall: a gift from
her mom and dad when she graduated from U. N. C. I was liking this
girl (woman) more and more. She dropped me off at my place and
headed to work. She asked me to come over to her place that evening,
and I said I would. She picked me up since I had no car.
That night at her place, she fixed me a late dinner. We talked

about all sorts of stuff, and she asked me to move in with her. I was
shocked but the offer was too good to pass up. I told her I’d think
about it, but I had already made up my mind. Her apartment was
furnished luxuriously, and it was clean. She told me I didn’t have to
pay any bills at all, but I could if I chose to. She said she had already
told Maria about it, and Maria said she didn’t mind me staying there. I
didn’t know if I could have Maria, too, but I was a dog at heart. I had
to at least try.
After a couple of days of “thinking about it”, I finally said I’d

move in with her. She was ecstatic.
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Chapter 54
The rent on my place wasn’t due for a couple of weeks so I got

in touch with my Uncle Jimmy. I had heard he was living in his truck,
or at a friend’s house, and sometimes at Grandma’s. He came over
and said he’d love to move in. I charged him my deposit and took him
to see the landlord. He signed a rental agreement, and the place was
his. He still had two weeks rent free.
I moved into Cheryl’s after work on the following Monday, and

I got Billy to help me drive my meager belongings to her place. Maria
was there and let me in. Billy was lusting after Maria, but she wasn’t
digging him. She had a boyfriend who, like Cheryl, was much older.
He was a car salesman at the local Toyota dealership and was actually
a pretty cool dude. That night, Cheryl gave me an extra set of keys. I
was home.
Work was coming along nicely, but Earnhardt and I were

bumping heads. He asked me to go on a job with him to Virginia on a
Saturday. I was to be paid hourly as we worked, and he gave me 20
bucks for “riding time”. I thought, “Why not?” I had no bills, and I
could use the cash. It turned out that we had to go to northern
Virginia and the job only lasted two hours. I got $36 for the day. I was
pissed off and told him so. He got defensive and gave me $14 more
“as a tip”. I was still pissed off. He made $1500 for the trip. I felt he
should have given me at least $100. When he dropped me off at
home, I told him he owed me $50. He got mad and left.
During the weekdays, Cheryl had to be at her store from 9 a.m.

to 9 p.m., and Saturdays from noon to 6 p.m. On Sundays Marie was
the saleswoman for her store but had a couple of days off each week.
On Maria’s first day off, we sat around the living room getting high. I
had the day off because Earnhardt didn’t want me on his truck any
longer. I had to work with the packing van. I was “demoted” due to
my disagreement with the dickhead. I truly didn’t care. I was loving it
at Cheryl’s.
Maria and I became very flirty and in no time at all we were all
over each other. She was a treat to behold. We laughed and played for
a couple of hours, then cleaned the place up and made a pact to never
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tell anyone about our fun. (This is the first time I have told anyone.)
We’d use her days off to enjoy each other and then act like friends the
rest of the time.
I ended up getting fired from the moving company. Earnhardt

had bragged to another worker about receiving a $100 tip from the
old lady we had moved to Virginia. I snapped. I was at the warehouse
when I found out about it. All tips were supposed to be divided
evenly among the workers on the job. I got in Earnhardt’s face about
it, and he called the other worker a liar. The other worker, Mike, got
in Earnhardt’s face, and they started arguing. The boss came in to see
what the commotion was about, and Mike told him. The boss knew
about the hundred-dollar tip and told Earnhardt that he had to split it
with me. When the boss found out he didn’t share, he told Earnhardt
to explain himself. Earnhardt said he “thought” he gave it to me. The
boss made him give me $50 and told him he was “Laid off until
further notice.” We were stunned. So was Earnhardt. He was their
number-one driver. He got mad as hell but left. The boss told me to
work in the warehouse for a while. No problem!
About a week later, Earnhardt came off of suspension. He came

into the break room where we all met every morning to get our daily
jobs, and he made a snide comment about “crybabies”. I waited to get
him alone. I cornered him in the warehouse and told him I’d stomp
his ass if he said anything else in my direction. He tried to pull a knife
on me. I got his wrist before he could open the knife, and I head-
butted him in his nose. He dropped the knife, and I belted him with a
right cross to his jaw. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. The only
woman who worked with us, Sue, heard the fight and came to see me
slug Earnhardt. She screamed for help. Mike, Skeeter, another driver,
and the boss came running. I told them Earnhardt pulled a knife on
me. They called 911 for an ambulance…for Earnhardt.
After Earnhardt was loaded up and taken to the hospital, the

boss laid me off “Until further notice.” He said he was sorry, but he
couldn’t have me beating up his drivers. I asked him about Earnhardt
pulling a knife on me, and he assured me that Earnhardt would be
fired, too. I could live with that! I called Billy and we hung out for the
rest of the day.
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When Cheryl came down, I told her what had transpired at

work. She told me to quit. Easy enough for me! I called the company
and said that I was done
It didn’t take much convincing to get me to quit. I was enjoying

all of my attention from the girls I lived with. On Maria’s day off, it
was her and me. The evenings were all about Cheryl. Simple! During
the days when Maria had to work, I had the place all to myself. I’d
invite all of my friends over to smoke out and talk shit.
In the evenings, I hung out with Will. We’d go to his place and
hang out. His sister was just as flirty with me as she used to be, but I
left her alone.
I lived with Cheryl through the winter. Around Christmas time,

Uncle Rob came knocking on our door. How that asshole found out
where I lived, I still don’t know. He told me that a probation officer
came to Grandma’s place looking for me…. “If I didn't show up for my
monthly visit, I’d be in violation and sent back to prison”. I told him,
“Thanks for the information,” and he left.
When Cheryl came home, I told her about Uncle Rob’s visit and
my not reporting. She freaked out and started crying and asking what
I would do. I told her I could go to the probation office and take a
chance that they’d arrest me for not reporting, or…I could run. She
didn’t want me to do either one. I let her know that Uncle Rob would
snitch on me as to my whereabouts as soon as the probation people,
or cops, came to Grandma’s. If I wanted to stay prison-free, I had to
run, and run soon. She said she wanted to go with me but couldn’t.
She knew it. She couldn’t shut her store down on a moment’s notice.
It’d take time to get it all worked out with her parents. She loved me
and wanted to be with me. We had some things to think about.
Where to go was my next decision. I had no idea. My first

thought was to go to California and stay with my Grandma’s kinfolk. I
had to get Uncle Sunny’s phone number, first. Grandma gave it to me,
not questioning me as to why I wanted it. I called him and he said I
could come, but I better have some money. Ha! Family!
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Cheryl and I had made plans. She said she’d give me a few
grand to get me there, and to help me get a place to live. We called the
Greyhound station and ordered me a one-way ticket to Modesto
California. She went to the bank and got me $3000 for expenses. She
said she was going to see if her parents would take her store for her
or sell it; she was in love, and she was going to California, she said.
We laughed and got excited over the changes coming our way. Deep
down, I knew she wasn’t coming to California with me. I was on the
run, and you don’t run with anyone. Especially with a woman like
Cheryl.
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Chapter 55
A day before I was to leave, we had a party with some of our

closest friends. Billy, Red, and Will came to see me off. We joked,
talked shit, and got high. We talked about the future and what we
expected out of it. Cheryl talked about marriage, and kids that looked
like me. Ha! Not happening!
I went so far as to change my bus ticket. I saw an advertisement

on the bus station’s wall about a tour of the Southwest, taking 14
days with stops everywhere from Graceland to Tennessee, to Vienna
Beach, and Hollywood. It cost more, but I wanted to see the sights, so
I changed my ticket. “Besides,” I told Cheryl, “Uncle Rob may tell on
me, and the police will stake out the stations. This is better!” She
went for it.
On the day the bus left, Cheryl was all in tears. I knew she really
loved me, and I did like her, but I was’t the kind of person to be tied
down. Not at 18 and fresh out of prison. I had to have space. Love to
me, was a crutch that would end up hurting me sooner or later. I had
enough of being hurt, so I kept my feelings to myself.
Cheryl clung to me before I boarded the bus. She asked for my

promises to call as often as I could, even collect, to let her know I was
okay, and where I was. She really wanted me to get to Modesto and
find an apartment for us. I said I would, but my mind was just telling
me to get away from Hickory before the cops came to get me. Tommy
Kaos had to go before he got got.
I got on the bus with a small duffel bag full of clothes, hygiene
items, cassettes, and a new Walkman. I had about three grand in cash
and an ounce of pot Maria gave me. She cried, too. Unbelievable! She
and I had become fuck buddies and I knew I’d miss her more than
Cheryl. I also called Kathy to tell her I was running, and she cried, too.
The women in my life were crazy, I thought. All I was good for was
sex, lies, and trouble. I just couldn’t understand their tears. Anyway, I
found myself a seat and waved at a teary-eyed Cheryl as the bus
pulled out of the station and the driver announced, “Next stop---
Tennessee!”
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The tour bus was very comfortable and spacey, not like your
common Greyhound. We were told we’d stop at hotels, restaurants,
and truck stops along the way, and even stay the night at a few of
those places. Our driver was with us for the duration of the two-week
tour. I was just trying to figure out where I’d smoke a joint without
being bothered. The bus wasn’t full, but it was loaded with many
kinds of people; mostly lonely adults with a child or two, and a couple
of complete families. I had to be careful smoking around them.
We stopped in Nashville, Memphis, and Knoxville, not

necessarily in that order. I was stoned most of the time. I figured out I
could go into the bathroom at the back of the bus, crack a little
window and smoke a joint in peace. Chemicals in the toilet were so
strong there was no way anyone could smell the smoke. Besides, I
saw a lady go in and out of it to smoke cigarettes. No one said a word
to her, so I followed suit.
At the Nashville Trailways station (which was right next door

to the Greyhound station) we stopped to pick up a couple of
passengers before going on. We had about a 30-minute lay-over, so I
went on a little walk around the block to smoke a joint and see what I
could see. As I was strolling along a black guy approached me and
asked me if I wanted to buy some pot. I told him to let me see it and
he produced a joint. He said he’d let me smoke some to see if I liked it.
He fired it up and I took a few tokes. It tasted better than the stuff I
had, and me being a pothead, I wanted some. He said he’d give me a
quarter ounce for $25, and I agreed to that. He told me to meet him in
front of the Trailways entrance in 5 minutes.
When he showed up, he had a brown paper bag rolled up in his

hand. He asked for the $25, which I had already had in my hand. I
gave it to him as he gave me the paper bag. He took the cash and took
off running down the street, around the corner. I opened the bag and
saw it was full of yard grass. Ha! I couldn’t help but laugh. I went to
the corner he had gone around and didn’t see a soul. I went back to
the station, pissed off, but aware that I was a dumbass for not looking
in the bag before handing over the cash. Lesson learned!
I found a place to smoke a quick joint before I got back on the

bus. We headed to Texarkana, Dallas, Fort Worth, and El Paso. We
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spent almost 4 days in Texas. My favorite stop was El Paso. It was

right next to the border crossing into Mexico. We were “advised” not
to go into Mexico alone, but I wasn’t worried. I had my trusty knife
with me. Plus, I had left the majority of my cash hidden on the bus; I
wasn’t wanting to get robbed.
Mexico was fine, but nasty. Trash everywhere, whores

everywhere, and kids everywhere. The kids were trying to scam
everyone, and the whores were trying to pull us into alleys to earn a
dollar. I was tempted a few times, but I controlled my urges. I was
leery of catching a disease or being robbed for the little bit of money
and jewelry that I had on me.
When I was back in Texas, I called Cheryl. She said I had left at
the perfect moment. The day after I left, a police officer came to her
place and gave Maria his card, saying he was looking for me for
“violation of probation”. It seems Uncle Rob snitched like I knew his
sorry ass would. Well, I was headed west, and he didn’t know that. I
had asked Grandma not to tell anyone that I called Uncle Sunny. She
said she wouldn’t, and I believed her. I still didn’t trust Uncle Rob.
After our days in Texas, seeing all the sights, we were off to
Arizona. Next stop: Tempe—home of Arizona State University. This
place was awesome. The main route through town was lined with
college students, the college, and bars. We cruised past so many
college kids, it was amazing to me. There were students everywhere.
There was a parking lot just for bicycles; and not just a few, but
hundreds.
We pulled into a bus station for an hour rest stop, and I went
roaming. It seems that the college was the center of everything. The
town looked more built around the college. I walked around and
enjoyed the sights of all the beautiful girls. They were everywhere. I
followed the crowd of students into a bar to see what I could see.
It turned out to be a bar with hard rock blaring on the

speakers, and people were milling around on pool tables with lots of
laughter and drunkenness. Everywhere I looked were girls in tight
jeans or shorts and even tighter tops. It was winter in America, but
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not in Tempe, Arizona. The weather was quite warm. The nights, you
froze your ass off, but not the days.
I met a couple of girls who were dorm mates, Donna and Lisa.
Both were smoking hot and were teasing me about my accent. We
hung out for about 30 minutes, until I told them I had to go back to
the bus station. They acted disappointed until Donna told Lisa that
they should give me a quick tour of their college. It was right across
the street. I let them lead the way, with a girl on each side of me,
holding my hands. We walked across the road and headed right to a
dorm building. I wasn’t paying much attention to the college. The
girls were everywhere. This place was a paradise to me. They led me
into a coed dorm and straight into their room full of girly decorations.
When the door closed, they turned to me and started pulling off my
clothes and theirs. This was what I’d always been waiting for. I was
pushed down onto the bed, and we went at it. We had threesome sex
for hours, it seemed. We smoked pot and had sex, smoked pot, and
had sex. When I remembered my bus, I panicked. All of my
belongings were on it, except for my money. I had that on me. The
girls helped me get the phone number to the company I had
purchased a ticket from, and they told me that, yes, I did miss the bus,
but my belongings were stored in the bus depot. If I was going to
finish my bus tour, I’d have to wait for the next bus, which wasn’t due
in for 10 days. “No problem”, said the girls. I could stay with them for
10 days; I encountered two very horny girls.
I called Cheryl and explained my well-thought-out lie to her;

that I was tempted to stay in Tempe and find us an apartment there.
It was the perfect place to hide out; full of people and very busy, but I
didn’t want to stay. I felt I had to continue my journey. She was
willing for me to do whatever I felt I had to do to stay free.
The girls saw me to the bus depot on the day my new ride
showed up. I promised to call them later, but I never did. With that
experience behind me, I had an awesome time with those girls. They
were known as lesbians. Everyone that saw me, and met me, was
shocked by their explanation of my being “their boyfriend”. To some
other friends, I was their new “sex toy”. Ha! I sure as hell didn’t mind.
I loved Tempe, Arizona.
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Back on the bus, I met a mother with two kids. One was a
toddler. I sat in the seat across from them, and we talked a lot. I
helped her with the kids when she needed it. She was a nice lady, and
under different circumstances I would have tried to bed her, but it
wasn’t meant to be.
The bus stopped a few more times and took us on routes to see
famous places, but I wanted to get to LA.
We finally pulled into LA bus/Amtrak station. I decided to go

into the bathroom during our layover and wash my hair. It felt
greasy. I went inside the bathroom next to the huge mall area and
stepped up to a sink. I took off my Gucci watch and placed it on a
small shelf above the sink. The watch was a gift from Cheryl. They
cost about $350. As I was washing my hair, I tried to keep an eye on
my watch. It was there while I was putting in the shampoo but
disappeared when I went to rinse it. I freaked out. I ran around the
bathroom with wet hair flying everywhere, looking in the stalls. No
one was there. I ran out into the mall area and, still, no one was
around. Whoever got it was one slick son of a bitch. I looked around
and stepped up to an old man and asked him if he saw anyone leave
the restroom, but he said he wasn’t paying attention. Well, live and
learn. That was twice that I was robbed on this trip. What’s next?
We took a tour of Venice Beach and Hollywood and then

headed north to Santa Monica. That was the end of the line for the
bus tour. I got a one-way ticket to Modesto and waited for my bus to
leave.
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Chapter 56
When I got to Modesto bus station, it was like déjà vu all over
again—memories came flooding back to the time when Mom, May
and I came here when I was a kid, then my flight out of Modesto, due
to Susy getting pregnant. The place had a familiar feel to it. I called
Uncle Sunny and told him I was waiting on him. He said he was on his
way. I called Cheryl and told her I had made it.
Uncle Sunny came to pick me up in an old, custom van. He

looked exactly the same, except for his left fake leg. I asked him what
had happened, and he said he had diabetes and had gotten a sore on
his foot that would not heal. It had gotten gangrene, and the doc had
to take it off. He was more worried about how much money I had on
me than anything else. I assured him I had plenty enough to pay my
way. He acted all happy to see me, but I knew it was just a ruse until
he got his fingers on some money.
At his house, which it looked exactly the same, except for a bit
more dilapidated, his wife, Eliza, wasn’t happy to see me. She was just
as grumpy as I remembered. We, three, sat down in the dining room
table and talked about how much I’d pay to sleep on a cot in their
spare room. They said I had to give $100 a month. I handed over the
desired amount. I was told that I had to find a job if I planned on
being in their home longer than a month. “No problem,” I said. They
introduced me to their daughter’s two children who, like my Aunt
Nikki, were abandoned on the doorstep as infants. Their mom was a
biker whore, too. Ha! All in the family!
I felt really unwelcome in this house. Uncle Sunny and Eliza

were very loud and very verbal about my staying there with them. I
knew I had to get out as fast as I could. The next day, I borrowed my
cousin’s bicycle and went riding.
I cruised by my old neighborhood. There were still some

Harleys, here and there, but I didn’t notice anyone I knew. I didn’t
think I would, but you never know who you might run into. I just
wanted to reminisce, so I cruised all around the streets that I ran as a
boy. I went by the high school and caught everyone out and about
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around lunchtime. I passed a car with rock-n-roll blaring, and pot

smoke pouring out of the window. Of course, I stopped.
Inside the car were two guys and two girls. I asked where I
might be able to buy some weed, and the girl in the passenger seat
said she knew someone. I explained who I was and that I wasn’t a
cop. They were so stoned it wouldn’t have mattered if I was. The girl
gave me a joint, “free of charge,” she said. If I liked it, she’d meet me
after school and get me some. I couldn’t pass that up. I told her I’d
meet her in the same spot when school was over, and I rode off to
smoke a joint.
I ended up at Palisades Park, right next to the apartments I

used to live in. The weed was very good. Now all I had to do was wait
until school let out, so I could meet the girl and get some more. I rode
to Pizza Hut and pigged out, then cruised around some more.
By the time school let out, I was waiting on the girl by the car
they were smoking in. She met me and took me to her car. She
introduced herself as Kim. She wasn’t the prettiest girl, but she
wasn’t ugly, either. I told her I wanted an ounce. She helped me put
the bike in the car’s trunk and drove me to her house. When I got
there, she introduced me to her mom and dad.
They were older, hippie-type people. Mom had very long hair
and wore old, 70s type clothing. Dad had a beard and mustache and
he, too, had long hair and hippie type clothing. They acted happy to
see me and invited me to smoke a joint. Ha! My kind of family. The
mom and dad had some sort of mail-order business and did all of
their work at home. They prefer to work at home, so they could
“roam the house as naked as J-birds,” they said. They grew pot in
their basement. I couldn’t believe they were telling me all this
information. They were just very friendly with me.
Kim got around to telling them what I wanted, and the dad
went and got me a baggie full of some kick ass buds. I paid $100 for
the ounce and wrapped up a couple of joints for us to smoke. Kim’s
mom made us some dinner. By the time we were done eating it, it
was dark outside. Kim gave me a ride home.
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We talked and laughed, and I asked her out on a date. She said
she never went on a date before. She just met boys and would hook
up with them. I told her we could do whatever she chose to do, and
she said I was to meet her the next day after school.
Uncle Sunny was upset with me for keeping his grandson’s bike
all day. I apologized and said I’d get my own bike the next day. He
bad-mouthed the Carolina family and cussed a lot as I went to bed.
“Fuck that piece of shit,” I thought. My cousin told me he had no
problem with me using his bike. I thanked him and then gave him a
$10 bill. I told him not to let his crabby-ass grandpa see it or drink it
up. He thanked me and we all went to sleep.
The next day, I walked to the local Kmart and purchased a new
mountain bike. I rode around looking for apartments to rent until the
high school let out for lunch. I met Kim by her car, and we got in and
smoked a joint. She decided to skip the rest of school and we went to
her house. Her mom and dad said, “Hello” as we went straight to
Kim’s bedroom. Upon entering the bedroom, we began kissing and
undressing. I guess you can figure out the rest. We spent the
afternoon lying in bed and getting laid. The best thing about it... Her
parents were cool with it.
I explained that I was looking for an apartment, excluding the

facts about Cheryl. Kim said her mom and dad would let me stay with
them if I had to get out of Uncle Sunny’s quickly. I said I’d keep that in
mind, as I ended up spending the night.
The next morning, I went back to Uncle Sunny’s. He was posted

up in his usual spot under the pomegranate tree, drinking. It wasn’t
10 a.m. and he was already drunk. I went inside the house to find
Aunt Eliza drunk and cussing about Uncle Sunny. Apparently, Uncle
Sunny took most of the hundred dollars I gave him and bought beer. I
offered her $50 for groceries, but she broke down crying, saying she
wasn’t taking any more of my money. I had until the end of the month
to leave. “Why?” I asked. She said Grandma had called and told them I
was wanted, and that Uncle Rob had told the cops I was in California.
Ha! Uncle Rob strikes again. I told her that, “Yes”, I was on the run,
but I would leave if it made her feel better. She said it would. I packed
my bag and left the house.
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I went to a pay phone and called Cheryl. She was upset that I
hadn’t called her for a couple of days, but she understood when I told
her I was looking for an apartment, and a possible job. She said the
cops came by her apartment looking for me, and she told them she
didn’t know where the hell I was. They mentioned California and she
almost freaked out. I told her of my Grandma’s call to Aunt Eliza, and
Cheryl told me I should run from Uncle Sunny’s, as well. I told her I
already did. We discussed what I should do, but I couldn’t come up
with anything that sounded good. I told her I’d think on it and call her
back. She had to go to work.
I went to Kim’s house. Her mom and dad said I could stay with
them for as long as I liked. Cool! When Kim came home she was
ecstatic. A live-in boyfriend! We celebrated with sex and weed. I
stayed with them for about a week. Then I had that feeling that it was
time for me to roam again.
I ended up going to the bus station and purchasing a one-way

ticket back to Hickory. I had told Cheryl of my plan and she was all for
it; she just wanted to see me and didn’t care how.
Kim’s mom and dad went shopping and that gave me the exit I
needed. I packed my bag, stole an ounce of pot, (but I left $100 for it)
and left a note that I had to flee. They’d miss me, but they’d
understand.
I sat around the bus depot and waited on the bus. I couldn’t sell
my bike to the cashier or manager, so I walked across the street and
gave it to a bum sitting on a bench. “Merry Christmas,” I said, and
walked away.
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Chapter 57
On the Greyhound ride, back to Hickory, I was bored to death.

At least until I got to Texas. We didn’t go through Tempe, Arizona so I
didn’t get to see those girls again. I met a huge, Texas, rodeo bull rider
named “Big John”. He had all of his gear, heading to Nashville. We
talked and smoked a couple of joints, and I told him about the black
guy who robbed me for $25 at the bus station. He showed me a .22
pistol and suggested we rob his ass if we saw him. I thought that was
a great idea. We planned out our mission as we watched the
countryside roll past.
We pulled into the Greyhound station around 10 a.m. We went

in search of the black guy, and we didn’t have to go looking too far. He
was near the front door talking to two Greyhound security guards
like they were old buddies. Big John and I went outside and waited on
the guy to come out. After a few minutes, he did just that.
Big John stepped to him and asked him if he had any weed for
sale. He said he did. I looked right at the guy to see if he recognized
me, but he acted like he never saw me before. Cool! Big John told him
I only wanted a couple of joints, that way we could keep them close to
us. He took us to a very, narrow alley between the Greyhound bus
station and the Trailways terminal. As soon as we crowded into the
alleyway, I pulled out the .22 and put it to the black guy’s belly. I
asked him if he remembered me and he said no. I reminded him of
the month before, where he got me for $25, and he swore it wasn’t
him. Ha! I said, “Yeah, right! Give me what you got!” He emptied his
pockets and gave me about $40 in cash and a couple of dime bags of
weed. I made him take his shoes off, and sure enough, more cash and
weed fell out. I had told him to take off his socks, too, just in case.
When I was sure he didn’t have anything else, I made him lie on his
belly. He began to beg for his life as if we were fixing to shoot him in
the head or something like that. I told him I’d be back to see him
again since I was now living in Nashville (a lie), and if I ever saw his
face again, I’d kill him.
We left him lying on his belly as we made our way to our bus. I
gave big John his pistol and we split up our loot, laughing about the
episode. All the while, I was waiting for the cops to come looking for
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us. None did. I was very relieved when the bus pulled out of station
and headed onwards towards Hickory. What goes around comes
around! Ha!
Once in Hickory, I was very leery. I didn’t know if the cops

would be waiting on me or not. Only Cheryl was there with a huge
smile. She hugged and kissed me like a long-lost lover, and we got
into her car and headed to her apartment. Once there, I guess you
know...I had some catching up to do between the sheets.
Later, she told me that Uncle Rob had, indeed, told the cops I
was in Modesto. He had come by to act as a “concerned uncle” when
he was actually gloating in his telling Cheryl why he was doing this.
He said I caused his family “years of trouble” and “I deserved to be
locked away”. Cheryl ran him off and cried, she said. Poor girl, she
thought I’d be arrested before I made it back. I assured her that the
cops wouldn’t go to any extremes to locate me. Especially going as far
as Modesto, or even contacting the authorities out there, just to locate
a probation violator. They’d wait for me to fuck up and get arrested,
and then come get me. Until then, I was safe as long as I stayed in
hiding. She told me to stay indoors until we could figure out what to
do with me. I agreed.
I suggested, again, that I just turn myself in and go to prison for

that, but she wasn’t wanting to hear that. She was still trying to
convince her parents to sell her franchise, but they weren’t trying to
hear that, either. She wasn’t willing to tell them about me until she
could figure out a way to get me out of trouble…and then marry me.
HA! Like I’m the marrying kind? I kept telling her not to waste her
time on me, but she was so in love, there was no talking to her. I
thought about just disappearing on her to make her life easier, but I
knew I needed her help in my escape from Hickory. So, I kept quiet,
made long passionate love to her, and let her help me make some
getaway decisions.
I laid low for about a week. Then, a postcard showed up from

“Sunny Fort Lauderdale.” It was from Animal, my former drummer. A
couple of months ago, a friend of his and mine said Animal had
contacted him from California, saying he was going on tour with his
new band. Animal had gone through two years of rock ‘n roll college
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and was out trying to get a record deal. He did ask about me, and a
friend had given Animal my phone number at Cheryl’s. He had called
and we talked about old times. He promised free tickets to his
concert, whenever he got booked into a venue close to Hickory. Well,
he was just saying “hi" from Fort Lauderdale, where he was booked
for a two-week show at a rock spot, called “Summers on the Beach”.
The postcard was showing lots of girls in bikinis. Nice!
After a while Cheryl came home from work, I showed her the
postcard from Animal. She said she had a cousin who lived in Fort
Lauderdale and would call him to see if he could help me out. After
her call, she was ecstatic. Her cousin said he’d be glad to help me find
an apartment and would let me stay with him and his family for a
week or two, while I looked.
After a couple of days, I was packed, again, and ready for the
trip south. It was snowing in Hickory at the time. It was mid-February
and very cold. I boarded the bus with trepidation in my heart, but
excitement in my veins. I was ready, once again, for a new outlook on
life and a new place to live. Fort Lauderdale should be fun. All sorts of
fantasies of parties, all day all night, with tons of beautiful girls and
lots of sunshine and beaches floated around in my mind. I was sick of
the hills in Hickory and was ready to be free of it. I had to say good-
bye to all my friends, again, and had to deal with Cheryl’s tears. She
gave me $3500 for an apartment that I knew wouldn’t be spent for
that. A small part of me felt bad for using her, but I pushed that aside
and climbed onto the bus.
When the bus pulled out of the lot, it slid sideways due to the
snow and ice on the ground. I thought about my luck and envisioned
the bus crashing before I made it out of Hickory. Thankfully, the bus
straightened out and we were on our way.
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Chapter 58
I forgot to mention about my sister, May. A lot had happened to

her while I was in jail and prison. When I was in jail, she ran away
from home. Mom was trying to push her into whoring, but May
wasn’t with it. She ran away again and again, and finally beat Mom’s
ass. Mom, being the kind of person that she is, called the cops on May.
She told them that May had attacked her “for no reason” and ran
away. May ended up in Ohio, at a truck stop. A Christian couple, who
were truck drivers, picked May up and turned her in. May was
brought back to Hickory, but after telling the authorities about Mom’s
abuse, they decided she shouldn’t be put back in the Mom’s care. May
thanked them as she told them she’d rather go to jail or a girl’s home
before she got back with Mom.
May ended up at a facility in Black Mountain, North Carolina,

called Black Mountain Children’s Home. It was situated on the side of
a mountain with two separate buildings: one for boys and one for
girls. May was happy there. She became the “adopted child” of the
lady who oversaw the girl’s dorm and ended up staying there for a
couple of years. When I got out of prison, I had my Uncle DJ and his
wife drive me to visit her. She had grown up and was looking healthy.
She cried upon seeing me, and we embraced and shed tears for a
good 5 minutes. I missed her, but I saw she was in better hands than
she was a couple years before. I hated that I couldn’t take her with
me, but I was glad she was safe.
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Chapter 59
The further south I traveled, the warmer it got. When the bus
pulled into the bus station in Fort Lauderdale, I was loving the views:
palm trees, sunshine, and pretty women everywhere. And talk about
hot. It was in the 90s. I got on the phone and called Cheryl to let her
know I was safe and in Fort Lauderdale. She was ecstatic. I then
called her cousin to tell him I was at the bus station, awaiting him. He
said he’d be there as soon as possible. Cheryl urged me to get us an
apartment as quickly as I could. Her plans were to just close up her
store, take off for Fort Lauderdale, and deal with her parents later.
Crazy idea, but I said I’d get us into one.
With her cousin involved, I figured I had to keep things straight

with Cheryl and get us a place to live. I knew no one, nor anything
about this place, but I knew I had to try and get in touch with Animal.
I wanted to party.
Her cousin, Steven, showed up about 20 minutes later. When

he saw me, I could read his uneasiness. He was about 35 years old but
looked younger; not a bad-looking dude. He introduced himself and
we climbed into his car to go to his home. He spoke very little, but
immediately asked me my age. When I told him, “18”, he couldn’t
believe it. He asked me if Cheryl was aware of my age, and he let me
know that he wasn’t taking it too well that his cousin was involved
with a younger man. I said, “Of course she does!” With a smile on my
face.
We pulled up to a nice little house, and in a pretty, clean

neighborhood. There was another car in the driveway that had to be
his wife’s car. When we went into the house, my jaw dropped to my
chest. His wife, and two teenage daughters, were waiting on me…and
they were gorgeous. His wife was all smiles and very nice to me, as
were his 15 and 16-year-old daughters. Talk about a trio of beautiful
females. Steven saw the way I was eyeing his family and asked his
wife to speak, alone. They went into the kitchen to discuss what was
going to be my banishment. I ogled his daughters as they did the
same to me.
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After a few minutes, Steven came and took me to the backyard.

He told me he was under the impression that I was an older adult
around his and his wife’s age, not 18. He had no idea that Cheryl was
in love with a younger man. He said he couldn’t let me stay in his
house, due to his having two young daughters. I told him to please
call Cheryl and explain that to her. We went inside and made the call.
Cheryl was livid. She cursed and screamed until I got on the
phone and told her that I understood Steve’s plight and would find an
apartment on my own. She calmed down and hung up. I thanked
Steven and his family, and he drove me back to the bus station.
I fully understand Steven’s reasoning. The way the wife and the
daughters looked at me, I knew it couldn’t have ended well for any of
us. Well except for me, of course. I’d have had lots of fun, but…it
wasn’t meant to be
At the bus depot, I had no idea what I would do. I looked

around and saw a bunch of city buses come and go from a small kiosk
next door to the Greyhound station, so I walked over there. I asked
the guy which bus took me to the beach, and he said, “The beach
buggy”. I read all the signs on the buses until I saw that one and went
and got onto it.
I was excited and anxious about going to the beach. The only
beach I’d ever seen was Myrtle Beach when I was a little kid. Grandpa
took the whole family on a vacation there. There was also Venice
Beach when I was on the tour bus headed to Modesto California. I
almost stayed in Venice Beach, too. I kind of wish I would have.
Anyway, I was ready to see Fort Lauderdale beach and all of its babes
I could ogle.
When the bus went up the bridge, crossing the Intercostal

Canal on Las Olas Boulevard, I was overwhelmed by the sight of the
ocean. It was as if the world had ended, and vast amounts of water
would just roll up onto the beach and drown us all. I kind of got
spooked seeing it, but I got used to it as soon as the bus turned north
on A-1-A.
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Swimsuit city! That’s all I could see. People were crowded all
over the place in various swimwear. There were multitudes of girls
frolicking all over the place.
I rode the bus up the beach until its first stop. I got off and was
hit by the heat and breeze, all at the same time. Suntan lotion and
alcohol was waiting in the wind. Ah…... Paradise! I stood in one spot
for at least 5 minutes to take in the views. I could tell that I was in a
place that I could get lost in, easily. I did a full circle before I set out to
look for a motel room. Somehow, I knew it’d be a long time before I
left this place.
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Chapter 60
After an eye-popping walk up the beach, I found a hotel to stay

at. It was called the Jolly Roger. It was shaped to resemble a cruise
ship. It’s tiki bar and pool were right out front, and it was loaded with
string bikinis and partiers. I got myself a room, unpacked, put on
some shorts and a T-shirt, and headed right back to the beach. I had
to try to find Animal.
I walked south along A-1-A until I came to “Summers on the

Beach”. It was a rock ‘n roll bar that was in full party mode. Hard rock
was blaring out the doors. I went inside and mingled among the half-
dressed college kids. I asked the bartender where I could find
someone from the band called “Full Head”. Their name was on the
marquee as the band “now showing”, so I knew I had to be in the
right place. He pointed to the pool area in the rear.
I went outside and, sure enough, there was Animal. The pool
was in full party mode. Boys and girls of all ages were having a blast.
Animal was among them. You couldn’t miss him for all his crazy hair.
I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned
around and screamed, “Tommy Kaos I can’t fucking believe it!” We
hugged and laughed, and I took him aside to explain why I was there.
He said I should go on the road with him and his band. I told him I’d
think on it. All I wanted to do was find myself a girl and have some
fun. He said, “No problem!” He introduced me to his bandmates. They
were all cool and acted happy to meet me. I bought a beer (no one
carded me) and watched all the revelry, especially the girls.
Later on, Animal’s band went inside to do a set, and I followed

along. They played some new originals for me, and some oldies. They
were very good.
After the band played, we all hung out by the pool and watched
the crowd, raucous, craziness of a wet T-shirt contest. Tits were
flying everywhere, and everyone was having a good, drunken time of
it. I was still nursing my beer (I’m not much of a drinker). I’d go out
into the rear parking lot and smoke a joint every now and then. I’d
invite a few people and some of Animals bandmates.
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I ended up meeting a girl from Maine who just wanted to party

and have sex and tell all her friends back home about it. I helped her
fulfill some of her goals. I ended up staying at Summer’s until early in
the morning. Animal, his girl, my girl, and a couple of his bandmates
came back to my room to party some more. We were all stoned or
passed out by sunrise.
The next day, we all went back to Summer’s to keep up the

party.
Animal’s band left the following night, heading for Miami, then
to Key West. He asked me again to go on the road with him and be a
roadie, but I refused. Why? I don’t know. I probably should have.
There’d be plenty of times that I probably should’ve went somewhere
else but ended up either staying in Fort Lauderdale or coming back to
it. I don’t know why to this day.
I ended up ditching the Maine girl for another college girl that
evening. I saw how there were more girls than there were guys, so I
made it a point to get as close to as many as possible. It wasn’t hard
to do in this place. The girls acted like the boys. They hooted and
hollered and yelled “Come fuck me!” and other profanities all over the
place. I was in my kind a heaven. A dog’s dream, come true!
For a week, or so, I forgot all about Cheryl. When I finally came
to my senses and called her, she was livid. I gave her a bullshit excuse
and said the necessities I knew would calm her down. I told her I was
searching for an apartment, but it was next to impossible, since
spring break was in full progress. Everything was expensive,
especially rent. I let her know that I still had funds, although
dwindling, but would definitely need more when I found the place.
She assured me that money wouldn’t be a problem, but she had a
catch to it.... When I found a prospective apartment, I had to give the
landlord her number, so she could talk to them and settle the bill.
That put a cramp in my plans, but plans can always be reconfigured. I
agreed to her terms and hung up. I knew she was leery of me
disappearing with her money, although I had never given her any
reason to be before. I guess she was just cautious or…... something.
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I had called Billy and Will a few days before. I tried to get them
to pack up and come to Fort Lauderdale, but they got cold feet. I
explained everything I was doing and seeing; they could join my fun,
but they didn’t. Oh, well! Their loss, not mine.
It was spring break, 1985. I was 18 years old and had about
$2000 in my pocket. I was good for a couple more weeks. Sex was
everywhere and it was free. What more could I ask for?
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Chapter 61
The Jolly Roger Hotel got really crazy. A college student tried to
jump from his balcony into the pool but missed. He broke his leg and
shoulder. A girl got gang-raped, and another was raped by a drunken
idiot who passed out immediately after. The cops were trying to close
down the tiki bar next to the pool saying the bartenders were giving
out alcohol to underage kids. That was correct, but who cares? It was
spring break. Everyone got drunk, but not me! I didn’t mind the
craziness or the Kaos of it all, I just didn’t like the cops knocking on
my door two to three times a night; I had to move.
I went in search of a more laid-back place on one of the side

streets. There were hundreds of smaller hotels and motels to choose
from if you could find a vacancy. I was truly lucky and saw some kids
packing up their car. I asked them if they were leaving, and they said
it was time for them to go back home. I rushed into the office and met
my new landlady.
When I entered the office, she was at the desk doing

paperwork. I asked if she had a room for rent and she said she “just
had a vacancy”. She eyed me like a piece of meat, and I looked her
right in the eyes. She reached across the counter to shake my hand
telling me her name was Sandy, short for Sandra. She looked to be
about 35 or so. She was a good-looking woman and very flirty with
me. I knew it was only a matter of time before I got to know her
better. I paid for the room for a week and went back to the Jolly
Roger to get my things.
My new place was a room with two double beds and direct
access to the small pool. After putting away my stuff, I went for a
swim. While I was swimming, Sandy came to the pool and lounged on
a recliner while eyeing me doing laps. I got to talking to her and she
told me her life story while she drank vodka and orange juice by the
glass. I told her very little about myself. She made all sorts of passes
at me and asked me to come to her apartment later. I told her I’d
think about it. I could tell she’d done this sort of thing before, with
God knows how many guys, but I didn’t really care. I was weighing
the potential for usage in the future. I always had my eye out for what
could be a good deal for myself, in every situation.
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Later that evening, I went for a stroll along the strip and
watched all the craziness. It was packed with spring breakers. They
were walking, riding bicycles, mopeds, and motorcycles, driving
around and around in cars and trucks, hanging out of windows and
truck beds, yelling, and screaming over loud music. Drugs were being
peddled all along the strip. They were walking past me saying,
“Weed-coke!” continuously. The motels and hotels were jam-packed
with kids in all sorts of unrest; they were running all over the place
laughing, yelling, and even fighting. I was taking all of this in and with
awe. I’d only seen this kind of craziness on TV, so to be in the middle
of it was overwhelming, but awesome. I knew I was in my type of
environment. I was home.
I ended up right back at Summer’s that night. A new band was

playing, so I got myself a beer and stood along the outskirts of the
crowd to watch. The lead singer was pretty good. He played lead
guitar also and could really crank out some notes. My eyes were on
the hot girls in the front of the stage. There must’ve been 50 of them
cheering on the band. There were two girls in particular that I had my
eye on. One was a redhead, and one was a blonde. I’m partial to both.
When the set was over with, I made my way to the front of the
stage and asked the girls if they wanted to go out back and smoke a
joint. They said, “Sure!”, but the blonde said that she had to wait on
her boyfriend. He was the lead singer/guitar player. I said, “No
problem,” and we waited for the dude to come off stage. He
introduced himself as Ramon. I told him I was friends with the last
band that was there, and about my past experiences. We went out
back and got high. The redhead was instantly flirty and glued herself
to me. We partied hard all night and went back to my room
afterwards. Just the four of us.
Once there, Ramon brought out some crack cocaine. The girls
pulled out their lighters and pipes and asked if I got high. Not wanting
to be a dud, I said I’d never tried it before, but was willing. They fixed
me up a hit on a pipe and lit it for me. I immediately got queasy and
ran to the bathroom to puke up my stomach. I couldn’t handle
anything like that again, so I apologized for getting sick and declined
to smoke anymore. I smoked pot for the remainder of our “party”.
The redhead got in bed with me after she did a few hits of the pipe,
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and we went at it, hard. In no time, I had her under the sheets. Ramon
and his girl followed suit. I, finally, passed out by sunup.
When I woke, the girls were gone. Ramon was crashed out in
the other bed. I got up, cleaned the room a bit, and went to the pool
for a swim.
Later on, Ramon came out and asked me if he could split the
rent with me. I had no problem with it. The room was almost $100 a
night and I didn’t want to waste all the remaining money I had left, so
I agreed. I told him I’d go to get the landlady to put him on the room’s
roster.
The landlady was in the office. She smiled when she saw me
and asked me if I was having a good time. I said I was, and she said, “I
bet you are!” Apparently, she saw the girls leave my room earlier. I
told her I would be splitting my room rent with Ramon, and she had
no problem with it. He’d have to come to the office and sign in to get a
key. I said that wasn’t a problem. She asked me if I’d drop by her
apartment later that evening. I looked her in the eye and knew what
she wanted; I told her I might just do that as I walked out of the office,
smiling at her.
I figured if I played my cards right with Sandy, I could probably

get free rent; all I’d have to do is satisfy her every now and then. So, I
decided to go to her apartment, later that evening. Until then, I
cruised the strip to see what I could see.
I watched a wet T-shirt contest at the Candy Store, and then

one at Summers. I went to the Elbow Room to shoot some pool, and
then over to the Button to hear their rock band play. By nightfall, I
was ready to go home. I was tired from all the day’s excitement.
When I got to my room, I had forgotten about Sandy, but she

didn’t forget about me. She called the room a minute after I walked in,
asking me to come over. Well, I gotta do what I gotta do.
I went to her room, and she let me in wearing nothing but a

bathrobe. She led me to her room’s bed, and I let her do what she
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wanted to do with me. She was very good at what she did, and
afterwards, I fell asleep in her arms.
The next morning, she asked me to move in with her, but I

declined. I told her about Cheryl, and that I truly didn’t want to be
tied down to anyone. I was a dog, and I knew it. She laughed at me
and said she understood. She asked me if I’d be willing to do some
maintenance work around the motel for free rent. I jumped at that
opportunity, even though I knew she just wanted to keep me close to
her. Free rent meant more money in my pocket. It also meant I’d have
to sleep with Sandy more often, which wasn’t a bad thing. She was a
good lover.
I went back to my room and got cleaned up and found Ramon

and a dark-haired girl smoking crack. The girl was on her knees,
naked, searching the floor like she dropped a contact lens or
something. I looked at Ramon and asked what was up with the girl.
He said she dropped her hit of crack on the floor and was looking for
it. She wasn’t a bad-looking girl, especially on her hands and knees,
naked. I asked him if she was his new girlfriend and he said, “No”. She
was a working girl, a prostitute. Looking at her fine ass crawl around
the floor got me horny so I asked her if she was ready to earn a few
dollars. She said she was, and I told her to come into the shower with
me. For $20, she gave me head and then some pussy, as we washed
each other. It was a good morning. She told me that Ramon hadn’t
touched her all night because he was too cracked out to get it up. I
told her I was glad to oblige. I had used a rubber when I fucked her
because I wasn’t wanting to catch anything. Rubbers became a
common staple for me. Can you say, “Trojan man!” Ha!
Ramon ended up staying with me for a couple of weeks. He

ended up having a falling out with his band due to his crack habit, and
so he quit them. He said he had no income, but promised he’d get
some money to split the rent. He didn’t know my deal with Sandy,
and I wasn’t going to tell him,
Cheryl was calling me on a daily basis. She was relentless about

wanting me to get us an apartment. I explained to her that rent will
be very expensive near the beach, and I was going to go away from
the beach and look for something cheaper. She begged me to find
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something soon. She said she missed me and loved me and wanted to
be with me. She was just going to pack her belongings and leave her
franchise to her mom and dad. Crazy bitch! That's how I saw it. By
now, she was just money to me, so I had to keep her on my side until I
was ready to disappear. Anyway, she said she’d wire me more money
as soon as I found an apartment to rent. I said I’d go looking as soon
as possible and hung up.
Ramon, meanwhile, had started getting really bad with his

crack habit. He was coming and going at all hours with different girls
in tow, but mostly with the same girl. I tried to tell him to find a job,
but he insisted he didn’t need one. He’d rob tourists and homos on a
daily basis. I was close to kicking him out, but he kept giving me half
the rent, so I kept procrastinating on sending him away. I sure wish I
would have sent him on his way.
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Chapter 62
One night, Ramon came in in a rush. It was around midnight,

and I was just lying on my bed, watching TV, stoned. He asked me if
he could borrow my knife to do a robbery. He said he had a fat faggot
waiting on him in the parking lot and wanted to rob him for a few
thousand dollars. That piqued my interest, so I asked him if he
needed any help. He told me to wait a minute as he ran outside and
asked the fag if he minded “company”. He came back inside and said
the guy was game for both of us to join him, so I got dressed and we
went outside.
It was kind of chilly outside, so I had to put on a poncho with

pockets. I had given Ramon the knife because he said he wanted to do
the actual robbery. When we got to the car, I could see it was a very
large fat guy sitting behind the wheel of a Ford Marquise. He smiled
when he saw me and told us to get in. I climbed in the back, behind
the driver. Ramon dove in the front passenger seat and off we went.
Ramon didn’t say when or where he was going to rob the guy,
so I was anticipating him doing it in the car. All he had to do was pull
out the knife, take the money, and we would run. I had slipped off my
shoes in the back floorboard and took off my socks. I eased them onto
my hands and began wiping down the areas I had touched. I put my
shoes back on and waited for Ramon’s play.
The next thing I know, we’re pulling into a driveway of a small

house in a neighborhood, just off the beach. I kept my sock-covered
hands in my poncho pockets as we got out of the car. I kept trying to
get Ramon’s attention to let him know that I wasn’t too keen on
robbing this guy at his house, but he was too busy laughing and
talking to the fag.
As we got inside the house, the fat guy sat on the sofa and
patted the seat next to him, wanting Ramon to join him. Ramon sat
next to him, and then he pulled out the knife. The guy looked at the
knife, then, looked at Ramon and me. Ramon told him all he wanted
was his money. This fat fag erupted into a grizzly bear. Ramon
jumped up off the sofa, aiming the knife at the guy. I was standing just
inside the doorway. The fag got up and lunged at Ramon, growling,
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“Fuck you!” He wrapped Ramon up in a bear hug. I leapt forward and

began to punch the fag in the face with all I had. This guy was at least
6’ 2”, weighing 400 pounds. I had to punch him in the face over
Ramon’s head. The fat bastard was squeezing the life out a Ramon. I
was trying to get the dude to let go of Ramon, but he locked onto him
like a Pit-bull. For some reason, I smelled shit.
Finally, the fag let go of Ramon. Ramon collapsed onto the floor,
trying to breathe. The fag grabbed his chest, took a gasp of air, and
then crashed into the coffee table, smashing it into pieces. Ramon and
I looked at each other like, “What are we gonna to do now?”
I took control of the situation. I told Ramon to get the shower.

He had pissed and shit his pants when the guy had him in a bear hug.
He whined, “I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. He squeezed me too hard.”
I told him to shut the fuck up and get cleaned up. He ran to the
shower.
I checked the fat guy’s pulse and, sure enough, he was dead. He
had a heart attack from all the excitement. Being a criminally minded
individual, I knew we were now murderers. Time to boogie!
I yelled to Ramon, asking him where the dude’s money was

hidden. He didn’t hesitate with directions to the guy’s nightstand next
to his bed. I didn’t question him on how he knew this information. I
wasn’t even thinking about that. I just wanted whatever money we
could get, and for us to get the hell out of there.
I went to the bedroom to search the nightstand, and sure

enough, I found a cash box exactly where he said it was. I sat it on the
bed and opened it up. Inside it was a $10,000 stack of money and
some more cash in a rubber-banded roll. There were three watches, a
couple of rings, and a bracelet. Also, some German Marks. I took a
pillow out of a pillowcase and put the cash box inside it. I checked the
nightstand drawer to see what else was in there. To my surprise,
there sat a very nice 9mm Smith & Wesson semi-automatic handgun
in a nylon case. Next to it were two wallets. I gripped the smallest
wallet and opened it up. My world just got much smaller. It was the
badge of the City Commissioner. The other wallet had multiple
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rubber bands wrapped around it. I tossed all of this into the
pillowcase and went to check on Ramon.
He was still in the shower, crying like a baby. I told him to

hurry the fuck up, and he sniffled that he wasn’t going to put on his
shitty clothes, so I went to the guy’s closet and snatched a huge shirt
off of a hanger and told him to put it on.
I went throughout the place looking for hiding places, finding

none. I didn’t bother searching the fag; I left him lying on the living
room floor. I should have, too. He fell on the knife with Ramon’s
prints on it. I grabbed the car keys off the coffee table right where the
guy had dropped them. I hollered for Ramon once again.
Ramon finally came out of the bedroom. I told him to “get the
fuck in the car,” and we drove away. I drove us back to the beach and
dropped him off at the motel. I gave him the pillowcase and told him
I’d be right back. I had to ditch the car first. He took the bag and
walked into the room as I drove away. I went up the beach, about five
blocks from the motel, and parked the car in a spot between two
other vehicles, along a row of parked cars at a big motel. When I got
out, I used the socks I was wearing to wipe most of the places Ramon,
and I had touched. Especially the back door I had opened upon
initially getting into the car. I took off the socks, balled them up, and
went in search of a dumpster.
When I got back to the room, Ramon was dressed and going
through the loot. The cash was in two piles on the bed, about $7000 a
piece. Ramon put on a watch (a Rolex) and gave me my choice of the
other two. I took the Seiko watch and a bracelet, giving him the other
watch and the rings. The wallet with the badge was sitting right there
on my bed, looking like a bad omen. I asked Ramon if he knew this
guy was a City Commissioner and he said, “No”. He just knew he was
a fag with money. I took the rubber bands off the other wallet and
dumped out all sorts of business cards from detectives, sheriffs, and
police officers. There were three ATM cards, too. They had the guy’s
signature and four-digit pin number scribbled on the backs of each
card. I replaced all of them in the wallet and re-banded it together.
Then I tossed it into the small trash can in the corner of the room.
Ramon had the gun out, looking at it. I told him I should get the gun
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since he left my knife inside the dead guy’s house. Fucking idiot! I told
him to put the gun in the pillowcase and not let anyone see it. I went
to Sandy’s to stay the night. It was around 4 a.m.
I pounded on her door until she let me in. I explained to her

that I may need her as an alibi in the future, due to a robbery I just
did. I showed her the seven grand. Her being a very cool lady, told me
not to worry. She had my back. I made love to her and fell asleep in
her arms.
I woke around noon and went back to my room. Ramon was in

full crack-smoking mode, complete with the same prostitute that I
took the shower with. I saw that they were high as hell and tweaking,
so I got myself a shower, changed clothes, and left. I went for a long
walk, up and down Fort Lauderdale beach, wondering what I was
going to do.
I figured if I went back to North Carolina, I could use the money

I had to pay off probation and possibly get it reinstated. But I wasn’t
wanting to go back to jail, or prison, so soon. I thought about just
packing up my belongings and going somewhere else, but I didn’t
know where I’d go. I was in a quandary as to what to do. So, I
figured…. “Fuck it! Let’s party!”
I went from bar to bar and had a few drinks and bought a few
for some girls. By the time I made it back to the room it was evening
time. Ramon and the girl were gone, so I cleaned up the room and
kicked back on the bed to rest.
Around 9 p.m. I was dosing off to sleep. I was awakened by

Ramon. He had bags of new clothes, and told me to, “get the fuck up!
We were going for a ride.” I asked him what he was up to, and he said
he wanted to live large before he goes to prison. He rented a limo for
the next 12 hours. Ha! Yeah, he was losing his marbles. But…...That
didn’t stop me from jumping into the back of that limo with him.
Party time!
We had a very cool driver. He was about 23 years-old and loved

hard rock. We cranked up the stereo as we cruised up and down the
strip, picking up girls and partying. The driver even took me to his
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dealer’s place and purchased a quarter pound of some awesome

skunk bud. We all got high as we drove all over Fort Lauderdale. At
one point, I had to drive. The driver got stoned and kept running up
on curbs at every turn. We had such a blast that I rented the same
limo and driver the very next day. We had him take us to various
nightclubs, where we picked up different escorts from escort
services. Ramon and I would swap girls in the back of the limo while
cruising around. For a tip, I got the limo driver one of the girls as I
drove us around town. Ramon, the driver, and most of the girls were
doing cocaine. I stuck to the skunk bud and an occasional mixed drink
from the limo’s bar. I definitely had a good time.
When it was time to give up the limo, Ramon was penniless. He

had spent all of his money on cocaine, girls, and the limo. I had spent
about $2000 also, but I wasn’t as friendly with my money as Ramon
was. I still had about five grand put away and another $1500 from
Cheryl’s money. I was good for a while. I definitely wasn’t going to
give Ramon any clues as to how much I had left. My carry-all bag had
a hidden compartment in the bottom of it where I kept all my cash; all
I had to do was keep an eye on it. It stayed in Sandy’s when I wasn’t
in my room, especially after Ramon had moved in.
After a good rest, and some down-time, I was as good as new. I

went to see Sandy for a while, then went and found a pay phone to
call Cheryl. She was upset with me again because she had called me a
few times only to talk to Ramon or his whore. I explained who Ramon
was and smoothed things over for a bit. I was already tired of having
to play the role with her, so I set out to end it. I asked for more
money, saying I had $1500 of the money left she gave me. I gave her a
rundown of the lies I came up with to get more money from her…. “I
had found an apartment for $800 a month. I need the first, last, and a
security deposit, plus expenses to turn on the lights and the water. I’d
need an additional $1500 to make the apartment a realization.” She
believed my lies and offered to send me three grand more, just to
help me put some furniture in my imaginary “unfurnished,”
apartment. “The money will be wired to Western Union in a few
hours.” Cool!
I went back to the motel room to see what was up with Ramon.
We’d been watching the news for a couple of days, but no murder
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that we were waiting on appeared, strange, but not unheard of. We

figured the guy was still lying on his living room floor, so we just kept
watching the news for any signs of it.
Ramon looked like a mess. He was sitting up in bed smoking a

cigarette and watching TV. I asked him what was up, and he said he
was dead broke and needed a hit of crack. I gave him a $20 bill and
told him to go get what he needed. He was happy as he left.
Once again, I began to clean up the room. When I went to the

empty trash can, I noticed the pillowcase at the bottom of the trash. I
pulled it out and felt the wallet with all its rubber bands wrapped
around it. I pulled it out and undid the bands, remembering the ATM
Cards. I took them out and awaited Ramon’s return.
When he came back, he got high immediately. He perked right

up after that. I showed them the ATM Cards and suggested he give
them a try. After a few more hits of crack, he was ready to go. We
called a cab and took off for the first bank machine.
He went to the first machine and came back to the cab with
$500. Jackpot! We told the cabbie to take us to the next one. I went to
that machine, so not to get the cabbie suspicious. I got $250 from it.
The next machine gave us $350, eleven-hundred dollars that quick.
We split the funds 50/50 then I had the cabbie take us to the Western
Union. I told Ramon to hold onto the cab while I “sent some money.” I
didn’t want him knowing I was picking up three grand, as well. After I
got my money, we went back to the motel to celebrate our windfall.
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Chapter 63
Ramon smoked his money up as fast as he could collect it. I

stashed mine. I only bought weed and food with my money. Every
now and then, I’d rent a nice, plush hotel room and order up an escort
service girl for the night, but that was my splurge. I had, what I
thought, was a good plan in mind. I’d take my savings back to North
Carolina and pay off probation, and all would be well. It didn’t work
out that way.
For two full weeks, we collected $1100 from the banks. Then,
one day, the ATM Machine swallowed the cards, flashing a “See the
manager” sign across the screen. I knew it was time to boogie.
Why didn’t we leave sooner, I have no idea? Stupidity maybe,

cockiness maybe, I’m not sure why we hung around, other than we
were two people in a sea of thousands, and we weren’t afraid of being
caught, especially me.
I told Ramon it was time to leave Fort Lauderdale. He agreed.

But, he had to go get himself some crack, first. Sigh! Well, I gave him
$20 and sent him on his way.
I went to see Sandy and fill her in on my leaving. She was sad,
but fully understood. She said she’d stay as my alibi when, and if, I
needed one, and I could always have a place to stay if I needed it. I
think there was one more romp in the bed and went to my room to
pack up.
Ramon had the same whore he’d become accustomed to. They
were going at it with the blinds down and a tiny piece of crack. I went
about my business packing my stuff; I didn’t have much. All I had was
my clothing, a Walkman cassette player and tapes, and some hygiene
products. I was ready to go in a few moments. Getting Ramon to stop
getting high long enough to pack was another story.
I don’t have any idea as to why I was still hanging around this
chump. I guess it was because he acted like he knew his way around
Fort Lauderdale, and I didn’t. He knew more of the ways of Florida
than I did, but I was quickly learning.
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When he got done with his smoking hysteria, we said goodbye

to the whore and called a cab. We had made a sketchy plan to just “Go
to Miami and do some robberies” with the gun that we had. We’d get
us about 20 to 30 grand a piece, and haul-ass to Hollywood,
California. Why, I don’t know. I told him about my visit to Venice
Beach and Hollywood and going there sounded like a good idea. We
took a cab to the Greyhound station and bought us a one-way ticket
to Miami.
Ramon knew I still had money, but he had no idea I still had
close to $18,000 stashed in my bag. I kept a close watch on the bag, as
I only had a couple hundred dollars on me, claiming that that was all I
had left. He thought I had spent all of my money on escorts and
whores. I wanted him to continue to think that.
By the time we got to Miami, he was “jonesing” really bad. He

needed a hit of crack. He pleaded with me to give him $20, and I did,
just to get rid of him. He took off from the bus station in search of
some.
I went inside the station and put our bags into a storage locker.
I noticed how much heavier his bag was, and I dug around inside it. I
found the 9mm. I took it and put it in my bag, then locked the locker
and put the key in my pocket. I figured he wasn’t stable enough to
have control of the gun, so I’d hang onto it.
I went wandering to downtown Miami. After about an hour, I

went back to the bus station to check on Ramon. He was sitting on the
bench feeling a lot better. I sat down with him and asked him what
we were going to do. He said he had no idea as to what we should do
next. I asked about us going on robberies, and he was so high he
couldn’t think straight. I got up and went into the bus station and he
followed.
I asked the black lady at the counter where we could go

partying, or “happening” at the moment. She suggested we go to New
Orleans. “Mardi Gras was starting”, she said. I purchased two one-
way tickets and we awaited the northbound bus.
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Once again, we figured we’d go to New Orleans and rob

tourists, save up some more cash, and then head out west to LA. After
about an hour wait, we got on the bus and settled in. I told Ramon I
had the gun in my bag. He was okay with it because he knew he
wasn’t thinking clearly. We settled in for a long bus ride. Ramon slept,
and I rocked out to Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” album.
Ramon slept through most of the stops heading through

Florida. When he finally awoke, we were in Tallahassee. We had an
hour lay-over while we waited to change buses. Inside the bus
station, I noticed two girls with beaded necklaces and crazy
sunglasses on. I asked them where they were coming from, and they
said New Orleans. “Oh yeah? That’s where we’re going.” I said. They
said if we were going for Mardi Gras, that it ended the day before.
Ramon snapped.
He rushed over to the counter and asked to speak to the

manager. I went to Ramon and ask him what he was doing. He said he
was going to get our money back and we were going back to Miami,
so he could “shoot that bitch in the face”, meaning the black lady who
sold us the tickets to New Orleans. I told him to go outside and calm
down and that I’d get it all straightened out. He went outside.
When the manager came to see what the problem was, I

explained our situation. He said he couldn’t refund the money, but he
could re-route us back to Miami. I told him it that would be great and
awaited our tickets.
I went outside to find Ramon still fuming about the lie we were
told. I told him to calm down and let’s think. We could go back to
Miami and do some robbing there. That was our initial plan, so we’d
search out the perfect place to hit and then flee to LA. He calmed
down a bit while I went to talk to the two college girls.
They were leery of Ramon, due to his drug addicted looks and
outburst, but I assured them that he was harmless. I told them we
were being re-routed back to Miami and we would be on the same
bus as them. They told me that I could come and see them at their
hotel in Miami when we got there, but not to bring Ramon with me. I
agreed. We went to the side of the bus station, and I smoked a joint
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with them. When our bus arrived, we got on it. I sat in the back of the
bus with the girls while Ramon sat alone and slept all the way back
down south.
When we arrived in Miami, Ramon wanted me to give up the

gun. I refused. I told him I wasn’t gonna let him get us arrested at the
bus station for shooting a bitch. He got pissed off and went inside to
argue with the lady. He got belligerent and started cursing. The lady
began to cry, and said she was sorry for telling him about Mardi Gras.
She had no idea it was over with. The manager came to see what the
commotion was about, and the lady explained the situation to him. He
told us that the best he could do for us was to fill out a refund request
and send it to the home office in Dallas, Texas. It’d take two weeks for
us to get our money back. I didn’t give a shit about the money, but I
wasn’t wanting Ramon to know that I had more. He thought I only
had about $100 left. He didn’t have a dime to his name. Once again I
told him to go outside and calm down while I smoothed things over.
The manager said if Ramon didn’t stop cursing in the station, he’d call
the police, so I chased him outside. I gave Ramon another $20 bill and
told him to go find a rock while I straightened things out. He took the
money and left.
I went back inside the station and asked the manager if he’d
just sell me a one-way ticket to Fort Lauderdale. He gave it to me for
free. I put my bag in the storage locker and put the gun in my
waistband. I awaited Ramon’s return.
When he came back, he was high and happier. I told him I had a
change of plans. He was going to get on the next bus heading north
and I was going elsewhere. He said, “No problem. Give me the gun.” I
said, “That ain’t happening! You get on that damn bus, or we’ll end
this shit, right here, by me blowing your brains out!” He saw I was
serious and said, “Okay, dude! I’ll see you again.” I said, “I hope not!”
The northbound bus was loading up and he got on it. Good

riddance! When it pulled out of the bus station, I went and retrieved
my bag and made a phone call. I called the hotel and asked for the
girls’ room. One of the girls answered, and I explained that I was
going to hang out with them for a couple of days. Ramon was gone
and I was on my way. They told me to come on.
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I ended up hanging out with them for about three days. They
were very cool and easy-going. I slept with one of them the whole
time I stayed with them. They were rich kids from Illinois, traveling
south on daddy’s credit card. They were going to Key West, next, and
invited me along. I declined. I decided to go back to North Carolina
and squash my probation problems with the money I had stashed.
When they left, I saw them off at the bus station. Then I bought
myself a one-way ticket back to Hickory. When my bus came, I
boarded it and thought about the past few weeks. What a crazy ass
ride I just had. I hoped it would slow down some so I could find some
normalcy. I even decided to try and smooth things over with Cheryl.
She’d be a good girl to live with, and I would pay her back, so I knew
she’d take me back. Well, we’d see what was what when I got back
home. I wanted to stop off in Fort Lauderdale to see Sandy once
more, first.
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Chapter 64
When I got the Fort Lauderdale, I went directly to see Sandy.

She was surprised to see me, but happy, too. I filled her in on my plan
to go home and take care of my probation problems. I promised to
come back to Florida when it was all over and squared away.
She said Ramon had come by, trying to smooch a free room, but
she sent him on his way. She didn’t like him and told him so. He called
her a worthless whore as he was leaving. I told her, again, that I may
need her as an alibi if I ever got caught for that robbery, because I
believed he’d try and tell on me, too. I told her what had transpired in
Miami and Tallahassee. She told me to be careful, and I said I would.
She fed me a good home-cooked meal and I stayed the night with her.
The next day around noon, I took my bag and walked to the bus
bench on the backstreet, called Birch Road. I sat there and waited for
the city bus.
While waiting on its arrival, a black kid on a bicycle came

rolling up to me. He sold nickel bags of weed along the beach and
knew Ramon and me. He stopped and asked me if I had a gun. That
surprised me because I never told anyone about the gun. Ramon
must’ve told him I had it. I asked him why he was asking me that
question and he said he knew someone who wanted to buy it. I
figured it wasn’t gonna do me any good, so I asked him how much he
could get for it. He said he knew a guy that would give me $200, cash.
I told him to go to get the money. He took off on his bike. I figured if
he came back before the bus came, I’d sell it. If not, I’d take it with me.
About 10 minutes went by when I saw a Fort Lauderdale police

car coming from the south. Then, one came from the North. I knew I
was in trouble then. I picked up my bag and began walking to the
south, acting as calm as I could. The northbound cop car stopped, and
the cop got out, pointing his gun at me. He told me to put my bag on
the ground and lay down, face first on the pavement. The other cop
car stopped and that cop, too, pulled his gun out and aimed it at me. I
dropped my bag and took off running.
I ran up one side-street and down another, looking for a hole to

crawl into, but there were none. Cop cars came from everywhere. I
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was overwhelmed at the sight of them. I could hear cops running

behind me, yelling for me to “Stop and get on the ground before I
shoot!” And “Freeze” I was basically running in circles. Finally, I said,
“Fuck it!” and stopped. I raised my hands and was tackled from
behind. A couple of cops rammed their knees in my back and my
head, smashing me into the pavement. They cuffed me and got me on
my feet, then led me to a police car, while reading me my rights. I
knew I was a dead man.
I was driven to the Fort Lauderdale police station, but not

booked or fingerprinted, as was the norm. I was taken to a room and
handed over to a couple of detectives. They sat me in a chair and
began their interrogation process. I’d been interrogated before, so I
knew not to tell those assholes anything.
They started out by trying the nice approach. What’s your

name? Where are you from? Do you know why you’re here? Where’d
you get that gun? Where’d you get all the cash we found in your bag?
That really stunned me and threw me off at the same time. Then, they
started with the reason I was there…. “Why did you kill the City
Commissioner?” I didn’t say a word. They stepped out of the room
after telling me that I was going to confess before the day was over
with. I kept my eyes on the table and didn’t say a word.
After about 20 minutes or so, they came back in the room. The
cop that was going to be the “good cop” told me to make it easy on
myself and tell them what I knew about the murder. I told him I knew
nothing of any murder and wanted an attorney. The “bad cop”
punched me in the left ear, knocking me out of the chair. If I wasn’t in
handcuffs, I’d have been fighting both of them.
The good cop helped me up while the bad cop kept cussing me
and calling me all sorts of names. The good cop escorted the bad cop
out of the room. I was pissed off. I knew I wasn’t going to fall for the
murder, I also knew anything was possible. I just had to stick to my
story and not let them trick me with this “good cop, bad cop” shit.
For what seemed like days, I sat in that chair and got
interrogated. I was spit on, slapped, punched, and knocked out of the
chair dozens of times by the bad cop. They tried to wear me down,
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but I wasn’t budging. I told them I had an alibi for every night they
were questioning me about, and that I’d sue their asses for assault as
soon as they gave me an attorney. They kept up their charade.
Finally, by what must’ve been the next day, the bad cop came
into the room with some huge plastic baggies. He tossed them onto
the table and told me that he had all of the evidence he needed to put
me in “Old Sparky” to die. I looked at the bags and saw Ramon’s shitty
clothes in one bag, and shoes in the other. I began to laugh, and that
really pissed off the bad cop.
He grabbed me by my hair, turning my face towards his. He

said, “Do you really think this shit is funny?” I said, “You are one
dumb son of a bitch!”, and he hit me in the mouth, busting my lip. I
kept on laughing at him. The good cop grabbed him and pulled him
aside. He made him go out into the hallway to calm down. When he
came back inside he asked me why I didn’t seem worried about dying
in the electric chair for murder. I told him because I never killed
anyone. He pointed at the bags on the table and said that that was
going to convict me. I told him he needs to look at the shoe size and
then look at mine. He picked up the bag with the shoes and looked at
them. Then, he took the shoe off of my foot and compared them. He
sighed! Then he left the room.
For about an hour, I sat in the chair, contemplating my future.

It sure didn’t look good, but I wasn’t about to give in. Not in a million
years.
Finally, they both came back in the room and showed me some
photos. They were of me at the ATM machines. Little did I know,
ATMs had cameras at all sorts of angles. I looked at the photos and
then sat back in the chair. I asked for a lawyer, once again. The bad
cop said that Ramon was telling them a very interesting story about
me. How I was the mastermind behind the murder and the actual
killer. How he just followed me because he was scared to death of me.
I laughed some more.
The good cop sent bad cop out of the room. As he was leaving,
he made a point to tell me to watch out for him. When he opened the
door to exit, he told me to look his way. Across the hall, in another
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room, was Ramon. He was sitting in a chair, smoking a cigarette, and

sipping on a coke, smiling at me. I just shook my head and turned
away. The bad cop left the room, laughing.
The good cop sat in a nearby chair and asked me some more
questions. But I refused to answer him. He asked me who my alibi
was, and I told him. He went and got a phone and dialed her number.
He talked to Sandy for a few minutes, and then hung up. He said she
was going to come to the station and fill out a witness report for me.
Good girl! He then said he was going to take me to a cell to get me
cleaned up and call an attorney. I told him I refused to leave that
room until my attorney arrived. He got up and left the room.
After another hour or so, a man in a suit came in to see me. He

said he was my interim lawyer until I was officially booked, and
fingerprinted. He asked me some questions about the murder. I told
him I knew nothing of any murder. He asked me where I got that gun
from, and I told him I found it in the trash can in my hotel room. What
about credit cards? “Same thing”, I responded. He took a few notes
and left.
Good cop came back in the room and asked me if I was satisfied
and I said, “Not yet!” He asked why. I told him I’ll be satisfied when
my real attorney shows up, so I could sue their asses off for the abuse
they caused me. He called two officers in the room, and they led me to
a cell.
A few hours later, I was taken to the booking room and ran
through the works; booked, fingerprinted, and charged with first-
degree murder, armed robbery with a weapon, multiple counts of
larceny, possession of a concealed firearm, and more theft charges. I
didn’t see Ramon anywhere. I was taken to the Broward County Jail
and made to give up my street clothes for the jail garb. The next day I
was taken to the Pompano Detention Center and tossed into a pod of
blacks, Hispanics, and very few whites. The place was over-crowded,
so I had to sleep on a mat on the floor next to someone’s bunk. It
stunk and was very filthy, but it was what it was. I was looking at a
future of dying in the electric chair all because I chose a life of crime.
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One of my Bunkie’s asked me what I was in jail for, and I told

him. He was surprised and called a few other guys over to introduce
them to me. He said they knew all about the murder because it was
all over the TV. I was a cell-block celebrity. The Commissioner was a
diehard advocate for putting convicts away, forever, so I
“supposedly” killed the right motherfucker, I was told. I was given a
Newport cigarette to smoke and got pats on the back and high-fives. I
smoked the Newport and got a mean head-rush off of it. Thus, began
my days of smoking cigarettes. I never gave up my innocence
throughout the month that I was there.
When I finally got to see a lawyer, he said he knew nothing of

my interrogation, or of any other “interim lawyer”. I was “played” by
the cops to give up some information. This attorney acted as if I was
guilty, and it started to piss me off. I told him about my alibi and
finding the gun and credit cards in my room, and that I knew nothing
of any murder, and he better help me as best he could. He said he’d
have to chase down Sandy to talk to her and do his best. He said that
Ramon was saying that I did the actual murder while wearing socks
on my hands. That I took him to the guy’s house to rob him, not the
other way around. I refused to admit any knowledge of any murder.
After a few weeks, a trustee came to the pod asking for me. I
went to the bars to see what he wanted. He was wearing inmate
whites, which are for trustees and law clerks. He told me to fill out a
request to come to the law library for the next afternoon. I asked him
why, and he said that he had some important information for me to
give to my lawyer; it concerned Ramon. I filled out the request and
gave it to him. I tried to ask him what it was about, but he refused to
tell me until the next day. So be it!
At noon, the next day, I was taken to the law library with other
inmates. The trustee saw me and pulled me aside to talk to me. He
gave me a piece of paper with three names, telling me to call my
lawyer and give him the names. He said he and two other guys were
wanting to turn state’s witness on Ramon. Ramon was bragging
about how he killed the Commissioner and how he had a dumb hick
from North Carolina that was going to take the chair in his place. I
was in shock, but just as much exhilarated. I asked him what Ramon
had been saying about me, and he said that I was just a patsy for
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Ramon’s crime. I thanked him for his information and rushed back to
the pod to call my attorney.
I called my attorney’s office collect and gave him the three

names with a brief explanation as to what they had to say. He said
he’d get on it immediately.
Two days went by before I was told to pack up my stuff. I was

transported back to the Broward County Jail and taken into a
courtroom. My attorney came up to me, smiling. He said, “Good news,
good news! You’re going home today!” I was shocked. He said he took
the depositions from the three inmates against Ramon, and took
them to the DA. After the DA talked to the inmates, he realized I was
telling the truth. The DA knew I wanted to sue the detectives and the
police department for assaulting me; not to mention for being held
for over 24 hours without an attorney after I repeatedly asked for
one. The DA offered me five years’ probation for “accessory after-the-
fact”, possession of concealed weapon, and grand theft”. I signed on
the dotted line and was run through the basic plea-procedures. I was
then taken to cell to await my release.
I was worried about the violation of probation in North

Carolina, but it never came up. I had to have a new address to go to,
so I gave the clerk “The Covenant House”, as my “place of residence.” I
was released in a few hours. AHHHH! Fresh air!
When I was going through the process of being escorted out, I

was taken to the property room to collect my things. I knew the
money I had stashed was gone, but I still had hope that maybe, just
maybe, they missed some. They didn’t. Even the money in my wallet
was gone. All of my clothes, tapes, Walkman, and hygiene goods were
there, but that was it. No dinero! I was flat broke.
Well, I walked to the beach and stopped off to see Sandy. She
was ecstatic to see me and showered me with hugs and kisses. I told
her about the jail business, and Ramon’s dumbassness that led to my
freedom. I explained that I had to report for probation, and the
Covenant House, the next morning. She gave me $20 for “walking
around money” when I left. God bless Sandy. I tried to call Cheryl, but
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her number was changed. I guess she finally realized I was a piece of
shit.
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Chapter 65
My first stop was the Covenant House since it was just a few
blocks away. I went in and told the lady behind the reception desk my
name and my reason for being there. She said she had expected me
the day before. I explained that I had stopped off at a friend’s place
for a meal and a bath, and got tired, so I slept over. The lady acted like
I committed a sin and warned me if I was on probation (I told her I
was on my way there, next) that I had rules to follow probationary
rules and the Covenant House rules. I knew, right then, that I
wouldn’t be staying there. To disciplined for me. She told me to hang
out for about 20 minutes while she went and filled out the paperwork
for my entry, so I went and looked at a bulletin board with postings
for jobs and apartments.
While I was waiting, a dude walked up to me and asked me if I

was looking for a job. I said, “Yes, I am!” He asked me if I could drive
and I answered, “Yes”, again. He told me to follow him. Curious, I
stepped outside to see what was up.
We walked up to a short, fat Mexican standing next to a white

van. The dude introduced me to the Mexican. I told them my name
was Tom. The dude’s name was Gary, and the Mexican’s name was
Manny. Manny asked me the same questions that Gary asked, and I
gave him the same answers. Gary asked me if I wanted to keep living
at the Covenant House or split an apartment with him. I told him I’d
rather not stay at the “Cuv”, as everyone called it. He told me to grab
my stuff and we’d be on our way. I directed them to Sandy’s motel
and filled her in on my new job as a driver and my new apartment.
She was sad that I couldn’t stay with her, but she understood. I got
my things and we left.
We didn’t go far. Just across Las Olas Intercostal Bridge are

what’s called “The Isles”. There were eight different man-made
islands, four on each side of the road. They stretched across the north
and south. On the south side were isles with expensive houses and
very few apartments, on the north side, mostly apartments, motels,
and town houses. We turned onto the north side route, crossed a tiny
bridge, and drove to a motel with weekly and monthly rates. The
Mexican went into the office while Gary and I waited outside.
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Gary told me that Manny was going to rent us an apartment on

weekly basis paying for it out of our first week’s wages. Cool! He
came out of the office and said for us to follow him. We were led to an
upstairs apartment and handed the keys. Manny told Gary and me to
be ready for work at 3 a.m. in the morning. 3 a.m.? Damn!
Gary and I sat around our new room and talked. He was from
Miami and hated it; he preferred Fort Lauderdale’s tranquility. He
knew the Mexican through the Covenant House. Gary had stayed
there, too, and Manny came in one day looking to hire helpers for his
cleaning company. Gary was hired. Gary was temporarily sleeping on
Manny’s couch cause he, too, hated the rules of the Cuv. Manny lived
just a few buildings down on the Isles in a townhouse. Gary was also
a crack smoker. He asked me if I did it and I just replied, “No.” I didn’t
fill him in on my previous kaos. I didn’t even say anything about
being on probation. I had decided not to even go show up and report.
Fuck it!
True to his word, Manny was knocking on our door at 3 a.m.

We got up and ready and Manny led us to his van. He had me get into
another van to follow him. I drove with Gary in the passenger seat.
We headed south, down US ONE, to “Little Haiti”. We pulled up
behind Manny, and the Haitians came from everywhere. He opened
up the side door to the van I was driving and loaded up the back
seats. Manny’s van was full, too. When we were loaded up, Manny
took off, with me following.
We went to a restaurant and Manny off-loaded his van of

workers and got them going to their tasks. He, then, had me follow
him to US ONE, and we headed south, once again.
We pulled into the parking lot of the small nightclub called

“Z’s”. We all got out of the van and waited at the rear door until a
stocky, hairy, Italian man, wearing a silk shirt and multiple gold
chains, opened the door and let us in. Manny introduced me to the
guy as his “new manager, Tom”. He shook my hand and led me
around to show me what he wanted me to be aware of.
My job was easy. I just had to go supervise the Haitians as they

cleaned the place up. The nightclub had two floors to it. The top floor
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was considered the “champagne floor”, for the VIPs and high dollar
customers. The lower floor was for the regular customers. It had two
bars and a dance floor, plus the stage for music acts. The upstairs bar
had sofas and love seats all around, with glass-top tables in front of
them, very plush.
The manager took me aside and told me to keep my eyes on the

Haitians because “they love to steal”, he said. Ha! He didn’t know who
he was talking to. I told him I’d watch them and report anything I
saw. NOT! He said lots of people lose jewelry, wallets, money clips,
even drugs, all over the club. If I found ANYTHING, I was to bring it to
him in case the customer came back to retrieve it. I agreed and he
went into his office and left me to “supervise.”
I wandered all over the bar, looking it over: two bars’

downstairs and one upstairs. Behind the bars were large glass jars
full of money and loose change. The manager said it was the
bartenders tip jars and for me to gather them and bring them to his
office. I collected them and took them upstairs. The manager’s office
was at the top of the stairs, leading to the champagne bar next to the
bathrooms. When I knocked on the door and the manager opened it, I
saw stacks of cash lined up on the counter. That got my attention. I
gave him the jars and went back to supervise.
The Haitian, in charge of the rest, came to me with a wallet, a

necklace, and a couple baggies of what appeared to be cocaine. I
asked him where he found them and he said, “In the sofas and love
seats, upstairs.” I thanked him and acted like I was taking the goods
to the manager but didn’t. I pocketed them.
I went all over the club looking at everything. My criminal mind

was calculating what I could, or would, steal if I chose to. In the
kitchen was a huge meat cooler full of beef quarters in airtight,
pressure-sealed packages. There must’ve been 10 of those hanging
up. I found the cooler that had chilled wines and champagnes, too.
Bottle after bottle of Cristal and Dom Perion, Jackpot!
There was a cigarette machine just outside the kitchen door. I

checked the locks on it and saw it had a normal keyhole lock. It also
took one and five-dollar bills. I stored that away, too.
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Before the club was totally cleaned up, the lead Haitian came to
me and gave me more jewelry and drugs. He had a couple hundred-
dollar bills, rolled up, that was used to snort cocaine. I pocketed all of
the cash and drugs and gave the Italian manager the cheapest looking
jewelry, an earring, a silver wedding band, and a wallet with about
$25 in it. He thanked me and told me to keep a close eye on “the jigs”,
as he called them, meaning the Haitians. “No problem!” I assured him.
Ha! I was the one he needed to watch.
Later that morning, back at the apartment, I shared my

newfound bounty with Gary. I told him what I had seen and my ideas
of keeping all the good stuff being found. I gave him the cocaine and a
couple of dollars from the first wallet I kept. It had almost $200 cash
in it. I talked to him about my future plans, to see if he was down with
me. He said he was.
He called up a couple of girls he knew, and they came over to

party. Gary introduced me too Tawny and Amber. Amber was his girl,
so I hooked up with Tawny. She was a decent looking girl, but just as
hooked on crack as Gary and Amber. I stuck to buying and smoking
pot while they got high on crack. It was fun watching them get high,
especially the girls. They liked to undress, the higher they got. I had
Tawny sitting on my lap in panties and a bra. Crack made her horny,
and I was all for it.
For the next week, I put my plans into motion. I got in good
graces with the club’s manager and was figuring out just how I was
going to rob the place to get the most money. I knew I’d have to run,
again, but I didn’t mind that. I enjoyed living off the grid where no
one knew me and what I was about.
I had decided to hit the place on a Saturday morning. I figured

the manager would be tired and the funds would be aplenty, due to
Friday nights, fill of debauchery. Sometimes, I’m amazed at my
planning skills.
We got up at 2 a.m. instead of three. I had Gary come with me in

the van, I drove. We didn’t bother going to Little Haiti. We drove right
to the club. I had purchased an old 9mm off one of Tawny’s contacts. I
had it loaded with one in the chamber. Tommy Kaos was at it again.
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We pulled into the parking lot about the time I usually show up,
maybe a bit early. Gary and I went to the rear door and hit the buzzer.
After a few minutes, the manager opened the door. I put the gun’s
barrel right between his eyes and moved him inside the club. The
manager got a pissed-off look on his face as I told him to lead the way
to his office. He said I was “a dead man” about 10 times. I told Gary to
put some tape on the man’s mouth; I was tired of hearing his voice.
Gary put a strip of gray duct tape over his mouth, then, I had him tape
the man’s hands behind his back. Duct tape is awesome stuff!
Inside the manager’s office, it was just as I had seen it

before…...cash stacked up everywhere. By good fortune, even the safe
was open. I made the manager lie on the ground, face down and had
Gary duct tape his feet together. After I was satisfied that the guy
couldn’t possibly get loose, I started loading up the trash bag I had
brought with me. Every green bill I could see went into the bag. I
cleaned out the manager’s pockets, as well. I even took his jewelry
and watch. His eyes burned holes into me. Ha! Fuck him! Then I
locked him in the office, and Gary and I began to clean the place out.
We emptied out the registers and bartenders’ tip jars. I tore

open the cigarette machine and got all of its cash, as well as carton
after carton of cigarettes. We loaded up four beef quarters and case
after case of Dom Perion and Cristal, plus a few cases of liquor. When
we were done, the back of the van was good and full.
Before we left, we went around and wiped down everything we

touched with rags and bleach, even in the manager’s office. Before I
parted, I told the manager it was a pleasure doing business with him.
All he could do was wiggle around and grunt what I knew to be
curses at me. Ha! Tommy Kaos says, “See ya dumb-ass!”
We left the club and headed to a fence that Gary knew about.
He said he knew some Jamaicans who’d buy everything we had,
including the van. We drove to Sunrise Boulevard, near the yellow
cab stand. We pulled up in some storage-warehouses that had drive-
through garages. I pulled up to the garage door that Gary pointed out
to me, and I honked the horn. It being almost 5 a.m., I didn’t think
anyone would be there, but I was wrong. The door started to rise up. I
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drove the van inside of the garage to see five dread-wearing

Jamaicans standing around with Uzi’s. Not good, I thought.
Gary spoke to one of the Jamaicans and told him what we had
for them. They lowered their weapons and told us to get out of the
van. We got out and I opened up the rear door. They saw what we
had, and everybody smiled but me. I was still nervous and conscious
of the gun I had in the back of my waistband. One of the dreads asked
Gary what he wanted for the goods and Gary looked to me. I said,
“Make us an offer.” The dread said he’d give us a few ounces of crack
for everything, including the van. I didn’t want any crack, but I wasn’t
willing to argue too hard. I asked if we could exchange one of the
ounces for some weed. They laughed and went to a 50-gallon drum
sitting in a corner and opened the lid. The dread opened the top and
pulled out a huge baggie of buds and tossed it to me. “Here, mon.
Smoke some Ganja of the Gods!” They gave Gary a couple of vials of
crack. Gary asked the dread, who appeared to be in charge, if
someone could give us a ride and he said, “No problem, mon. Where
ya be goin’?” I said to Hollywood Beach. We grabbed our already-
packed duffel bag out of the van and got into the back of a tricked-out
Cadillac.
We were blessed with Jamaican music as we rode in the back of

the caddy. I was stoned out of my mind in no time. The driver asked
me “where in Hollywood?” and I said, “to the beach.” Once we got to
the beach I told them to drop us off at any motel we came to. They
pulled into a parking lot, and we got out of the car with our bags. I
shook hands with both of them and told them I would do more
business with them in the future. I told him I went by the name of
“Tommy Kaos”. They laughed and said they liked my name.
When they drove off, I walked into the office of the motel we
were dropped off at. Once inside the office I rented us a room for one
week. Gary and I went to the room and laughed at our good fortune.
Gary had two ounces of crack to smoke while I had a least a quarter
pound of some awesome, long-buzzing reefer. I went into the
bathroom with a bag full of money to count. Gary was too busy trying
to get high to count.
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I ended up counting $37,000 dollars and some change, in cash.

Good haul! I took about $2000 of it and gave it to Gary. He was happy
to get it, but more focused on smoking his crack. I had most of my
share in my trusty hiding spot in my bag. I put the gun away, too. I
didn’t have any rolling papers, so I had to go out and get some. I
needed to get out of the room, due to Gary’s smoking.
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Chapter 66
I left the room and headed towards the beach. As I was passing
the motel’s office, I saw a sign pointing to the pool. It was only about
9 a.m. at this time, but I just wanted to see what kind of people they
had. To my surprise, there were two girls lying on lounge
chairs......topless. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I walked closer just to
make sure I was seeing what I thought I saw. Yup! Top-less!
When I walked closer, I noticed one of the girls looking at me. I

smiled and asked her if she had any rolling papers. She shielded her
eyes from the early morning sun and asked me what I needed rolling
papers for so early in the morning. I couldn’t help but stare at the two
sets of gorgeous tits and bodies that went with them. These girls
were bombshells and not shy at all about their breasts being ogled.
I told the girl I was talking to that I had some good reefer, but
no rolling papers. Her friend was shielding her eyes and looking at
me, too.
The one I initially spoke to had short, brown hair and brown
eyes. The other had blonde hair and blue eyes. They spoke to each
other in French. Then, the brown-eyed girl told me that, yes, she had
rolling papers in her motel room. They gathered up their towels and
their suntan gear, and I followed the two sweet asses to their room.
They lived just a few doors down from me. Of course, they put on
their bikini tops before leaving the pool.
Their room was exactly like mine. It was an efficiency, too. The
rooms consisted of a tiny living room, a small kitchenette, and a
bathroom, and a bedroom at the rear. I sat down at the tiny table,
between the living room and kitchenette, and waited for them to give
me papers. I pulled a small baggie of weed out of my pocket. (I had
only taken a few joints worth out of my stash before I left.)
The blonde went to the back room and got completely nude.
She walked up to the table and handed me a pack of 1.5’s, then went
into the bathroom. I was slack jawed, but trying to keep my cool, at
the same time. The brown-haired girl came out of the bathroom with
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a towel wrapped around her waist and her breasts bare. I fell into
heaven.
The brunette introduced herself as Kim and the blonde was

Cindy. They were from Québec, Canada and were down in Florida to
work at “Solid Gold”, South Florida’s premier strip club, on US ONE,
north of Sunrise Blvd. A very classy and expensive place, with the
hottest girls around. She said they had another week of stripping and
then they’d be driving back to Québec.
I lied and said I was down from North Carolina on a “rich–kid’s

get away”. A retreat before I went off to college or into the Marine
Corps. I wasn’t yet decided as to what I wanted to do. “My parents
had given me a ton of money to travel before I made any firm
decisions”, I told them.
I rolled up two sticks of ganja and fired one up after Cindy

came out of the bathroom. She came over to the table and sat on
Kim’s lap and passed the lit joint to her. Seeing them together let me
know that they were a couple. I was still wondering if I could fit in
between them.
We talked and smoked through the first joint. No one needed to

light the other one. We were tore up. Cindy said she had to go in the
back room to lay down as she was so high. Kim asked me to help her
pull out the sofa bed in the living room. When we got it pulled out she
hopped onto it and pulled me down with her. She put a kiss on me
and then undressed me. I was in heaven again. We had sex for a long
time before we both fell away, exhausted. I fired up the second joint.
Kim took a couple of hits and then asked me to leave so she could
take a nap. She had to go to work at 2 p.m. I was to, “Please, come
back and wake them up at 1 p.m.” “Not a problem”, I said. I went back
to my room to rest, too.
Gary was in a full cracked out mode. He was tweaking and

playing with a cracked stem and a pile crack. I tried to tell him about
the girls, but he wasn’t paying me any attention. I decided to kick
back and rest, too. It’d been a long night and a pleasurable morning. I
told Gary to wake me up about 12:30 p.m. It was about 10:30 a.m.
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Right on time, he awakened me. I went to the girl’s room and

got them up. There was a flurry of activity, running around naked,
getting their stripper bags packed. I just sat at the kitchenette-table,
amazed. When they were ready to leave, Kim told me to come over to
their place at 2:30 a.m., when they got back from work. I agreed to
and escorted them to their brand-new Honda Accord. Kim kissed me
and they waved goodbye as they drove away.
I walked to the beach to see what I could see. I spent most of

my day wandering around, aimlessly. By late evening I was back at
the room, waiting on 2:30 a.m.
Gary was still in his crack-smoking mode. I watched TV and got

high.
At 2:40 a.m. I heard their car pull up outside their room. I went
outside and they waved me over. Kim gave me her stripping bag and
Styrofoam plate to carry inside while she helped Cindy gather up her
things. We all went into their room. Cindy and Kim got undressed,
once again. I was loving this experience immensely.
When they both got out of the shower, Kim told me that the
Styrofoam plate was for me. It had a huge steak, baked potato, and
salad in it. I devoured it while she rolled up a couple of joints. When I
was finished she, once again, led me to the sleeper sofa. This time
Cindy joined us. We smoked a joint and things got really hot with us.
It was a “three–way from the Gods”, to a guy like me. These girls were
all over me, and each other. We went at it for a long time before I fell
asleep, completely exhausted.
I awoke sometime the next morning, to see them naked at the

table counting out money. They were stacking the money in
denominational piles; tens, 20s, 50s and 100s. They also had a small
pile of baggies that appeared to have cocaine in them. Cindy took the
white stuff out of the little bags and placed it all in a bigger Ziploc bag
that already had a pile inside of it. Kim stacked all the cash together
wrapped it up, holding it together with a rubber band. She, then,
placed the bundle inside a sock and wrapped it up. Cindy took the
baggie of the powder to the kitchenette cabinets and got a box of
cereal out. She stuffed the baggie down into a cereal box. Kim took
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the sock and placed it in a dresser drawer in the back bedroom. I

watched all of this with half-closed eyes. They didn’t look at me, not
once.
When they were done, Kim crawled onto the bed with me. I
acted like I just woke up. She began a morning ritual of sex. Cindy
climbed in bed with us. Good morning, Tommy Kaos!
At around 1:30 p.m., the girls got up and got ready for work.
Kim asked me if I needed to borrow their car for anything. “Sure,” I
said. She told me to drive them to work and I had to promise to pick
them up at 2 a.m. I promised! I drove them to Solid Gold, got two
kisses, and drove away thinking these girls are in danger of trusting
the likes of me. But…...I was having a ball, so I’d stay with it as long as
I could. They only had one more week before they had to go back to
Canada. I’d make all of my decisions based on that.
I drove their car all over the place. Up and down Fort
Lauderdale beach, out west to the Broward Mall, and all the way
down to South Beach. I purchased some skimpy bikinis for the girls
(not like they’d ever wear them) and some clothes for myself.
Back at the motel, Gary was an absolute mess. He hadn’t slept

for three days and was still cracked out of his mind. He had smoked
up his baggie full of crack and had to go buy more. He told me he was
going to call Tawny and his girlfriend, but I refused to let him. I told
him we had to stay hidden for at least a month until things died down
for the Italians at the nightclub. I drove him to a crack hole so he
could purchase himself a handful of rocks.
During the drive, I explained my plans about the girls. He was

wondering where I’ve been for so long, and how I got the car. I told
him that the girls wanted me to go back to Canada with them, to be a
male stripper, but I knew I wouldn’t get past the border. I was leading
them on, leading them to think I was all for it. He told me I had a very
criminally inspired, creative mind. Yes, I believe he was right. I took
us back to the motel and ordered pizza. I had to force him to eat a
slice.
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At 1:30 a.m., I went and picked the girls up. They were thrilled
to see me, since giving me the car was a test to see how honest I was.
Ha! I drove the two beauties back to the motel room and we did our
usual throughout the night.
This went on for the remaining week. I’d drive them to work,
come back to their rooms, check out their stash spots, and go out to
cruise around. The day before they were to leave they were very
excited. I had told them that I’d made up my mind to go to Canada
with them. They wanted me to live with them there and they’d teach
me how to dance and strip. Ha! Yeah right!
That day, I drove them to work, as usual. They gave me a kiss

and I drove away, smiling. I went back to the motel and cleaned out
their money and their stash. Plus, I stole all of the remaining jewelry
they had, too. I went to my room and got Gary. He had finally gone to
sleep, so I hated to wake him up. I was tempted to leave him and just
drive off into the sunset, but I didn’t want him to tell what little he
knew about me. I even contemplated putting a pillow over his head
and shooting him, but that thought went out of my mind, quickly. I
didn’t need another murder fiasco to deal with, so I woke his ass up.
We packed up our stuff and I got it all packed into the girls’ car.
Gary had told me that his mom lived in Miami. I told him to point the
way there.
At his mom’s house, I was introduced to an old, wrinkled,

skinny woman who had a bad case of crack addiction. Her
“boyfriend” was an old black dude, just as fucked up as she was. Gary
led me into the dilapidated house but telling his mom we were
needing a place to crash. Gary broke out his crack I had given him and
got down to smoking. I sat around watching TV with bad reception
while trying to think of my next move. I knew I wouldn’t be in this
crack house more than a day or so.
When Gary got his mind un-fogged into a somewhat coherent

state, I asked him how we’d get rid of the girls’ car. He suggested we
drive it to a local drug dealer and sell it to him. I made him drive. He
had his mom and her boyfriend follow us in his mom’s green Mercury
Cougar.
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We just drove a couple blocks since their house was in the

hood. We didn’t have to go far. We pulled into a driveway of a house
with about 10, young, thuggish black dudes hanging out in the yard.
The drug business was thriving. A couple of dudes came up to the car
and Gary told them the car we were in was “hot and for-sale”. A dude
asked, “How much?” And Gary looked at me. “What do you get?” I
asked. He said, “Rocks!” I told Gary to get whatever he wanted for the
car as I got out and walked back to his mom’s car.
Gary made a deal with the dude and got in his mom’s car,
smiling. He handed me a baggie with a bunch of crack in it. I gave it
back to Gary and said, “You keep it! Drive me to the city bus stop.” He
looked at me and saw I meant it. They drove to a “decent area”, as his
mom put it, and let me out at a bus kiosk. I grabbed my bag out of the
floorboard of his mom’s car. (I had stashed it there when I came out
to drive the other car away.) They wished me luck and drove off. See
ya but wouldn’t want to be ya!
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Chapter 67
I ended up right back at Sandy’s place. She was glad to see me

and gave me a room for free. I offered to pay for it, but she wouldn’t
hear of it. I gave her most of my money to keep in the motel safe
because I didn’t feel comfortable holding that much cash. She had no
problem with it. I kept a couple hundred dollars just for “walking
around money”.
For a few weeks, I laid low. I stayed by the pool and tanned,
went to Summer’s at night, and just got lazy. No cops ever stopped
me, so I became comfortable with my existence on the beach. Every
now and then, I brought a girl back to my room, but I’d mostly stay to
myself. I didn’t want any relationships that would complicate things if
I had to flee. Sandy was cool like that. She didn’t tie any strings to me,
and I could do whatever, go wherever, see whoever: she didn’t care. I
was free and enjoying my freedom.
That got tested, one morning, in the local McDonald’s.
I made it a habit to go into McDonald’s every morning for

breakfast. My favorite breakfast was a sausage, egg, and cheese
McMuffin and a large OJ with crushed ice. I’d get my breakfast and sit
at a table next to the beach side windows, so I could watch the
pedestrians strolling around.
On this particular morning, I was eating my breakfast, when all

of a sudden I noticed this kid, about 16-years-old, knock a cup of
coffee over into an old man's lap. I’d seen this old guy on most of my
mornings. He stood out due to his white hair and the Hawaiian shirts
he always wore. He’d sit in the same seat, doing a newspaper
crossword puzzle.
When the kid knocked the coffee onto his lap, the old man tried
to get up, but the kid slapped him, knocking his glasses off his face,
and made him fall over onto the floor. I jumped up out of my seat and
grabbed the kid to stop him from doing anything further. The dumb
kid started punching me. I dodged the punch and took the kid to the
floor. I sat on his chest and began to rain punch after punch into his
face. Someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me off the kid. A
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motorcycle-riding, bodybuilding, cop man-handled me up against the

wall and handcuffed me.
The kid was screaming about pressing charges on me for

assault. The old man, and most of the people in the restaurant were
telling the cop that the kid attacked the old man, and I came to his
rescue. Another huge, motorcycle cop came running in, and the one
holding me told him to cuff the kid. We were both going to jail for
assault. Everyone started yelling at the cops about it being bullshit
how they were arresting me, but they weren’t hearing it. The first cop
said he witnessed me pummeling the kid, so I was going to jail.
Dammit, man! Not again.
I was escorted outside and placed in the back seat of a newly

arrived cop car. The old guy came over and talked to the motorcycle
cop, then, they both came over to the cop car I was in. The cop
opened the door and asked me my name. I told him and he told the
old guy. The old guy told me he was going to the police station to
bond me out. “Not to worry,” he said. “You’ll be out within an hour.” I
thought, “Yeah, right!” I was on dual violations with Fort Lauderdale
and North Carolina. I’d be lucky to escape, this time.
I was driven to the Fort Lauderdale police station and booked

for assault. The kid was in the cell next to me, cussing at me for
saving that “piece of shit.” I told the kid if I ever saw him again, I’d
stomp his ass into a blood puddle. He got quiet.
True to his word, I was released within the hour. He had to

have some pull within the system to get me out that fast. I was given
my personal effects and let out into the front parking lot. The old man
was waiting on me.
He was leaning on the trunk of a white 1979, Ford

Thunderbird. He walked over to me and shook my hand. He
introduced himself as Milo. “Everyone calls me Uncle Milo”, he said. I
told him I was Tommy Kaos, sometimes called “Tom”. He laughed at
that and asked if I’d like a ride back to the beach. “Sure would”, I said.
In the car, he told me that the kid owed him some money and
he had to put the word out on the street that he’d pay $200 to have
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the kid beat up. I looked at the old guy and just didn’t see that sort of
spunk in him, but I was clearly wrong. Looks are deceiving. At a
stoplight, he reached into his pocket and counted out $200 to give to
me, but I refused to take it. I told him I appreciated him for bonding
me out and he told me I didn’t have to worry about the assault
charges. He’d have them thrown out with the help of his lawyer. I told
him about my probation problems. He asked me if I wanted to make
it all go away and I asked him how that was possible. He said he’d
look into it and get back to me.
By the time we got back to the beach, I knew I’d be doing

business with this dude. He asked me if I had a driver’s license and I
told him I had one, but it wouldn’t be any good due to probation
violations. He asked me if I had any problems with getting a false ID
or driver’s license. Ha! “Hell no”, I replied. “I’d love to have one.” He
told me not to worry, he’d get me the documentation I’d need. He
asked me if I worked anywhere and I told him, “No”. He asked me if
I’d be willing to be his driver/bodyguard and I said, “Why not?!” He’d
pay me $100 a day, whether I drove him anywhere, or not. The
bodyguard part of the job would pay more if I had to actually protect
him. He said he very rarely got assaulted, and if he did, it was from
someone that he was certain I’d be able to handle. I told him I was
very capable in the department of defending myself.
Then he asked me where I was staying. I explained to him my

circumstances at Sandy’s motel, and he offered to help me move into
a bigger, nicer room at a motel that a friend of his owned. I wouldn’t
have to pay a dime. I thought, “Why not!” I needed to separate myself
from Sandy, anyway. Cheryl kept calling the motel asking for me, and
Sandy was getting pissed off about it. I needed this move.
He made the arrangements for me to move into a suite at the

far end of a hallway at a nice motel. My room overlooked the pool and
lounge area. It had everything I’d need, a big TV, a small refrigerator,
microwave, a Jacuzzi bathtub, and a king size bed. Nice! The manager
turned out to be cool, too. He smoked pot and did cocaine, but I didn’t
know how Milo was paying him yet either. Milo just told me that the
manager was a junkie. I asked no further questions.
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Milo told me to meet him every morning at McDonald’s to see if

I would work each day. “No problem”, I said.
I spent the day going over my motel room, searching for a good
hiding place for my money and gun. I ended up creating a hidey-hole
in the box springs of the bed. At least it’d be safe if someone broke in.
They’d have to really dig to find my spot.
I ordered some room service and got myself a big steak dinner
with all the trimmings, then smoked a joint and watched some HBO;
life was good at that very minute. No one but Milo knew where I was,
so I felt safe. Life was really good at that moment.
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Chapter 68
Working for Milo was easy. I’d meet him at McDonald’s, and
he’d tell me “yes”, or “no”, or “meet me outside my condo, at a certain
time.” He’d give me $100 whether I drove him anywhere or not.
When I did drive him someplace, it’d be to some business,

house, restaurant, courthouse, or nightclub. He always came out of
his condo with some sort of bag: Burdines, Macy’s, Target, etc. He
placed it in the backseat, and he’d get into the passenger seat and tell
me where to go. I never asked him what was in the bag. It wasn’t any
of my business.
One day, he asked me if I was curious as to what he was doing,

and I told him I was, but I really didn’t care. He pulled a bag out of the
backseat and into his lap and took out a baggie of cocaine. He told me
that “he delivers coke, weed, and whatever other kinds of drugs his
clientele wanted”. I asked him if his weed was any good, and he
laughed at me. He said it’s fresh from Jamaica. I told him to sell me
some, but he said he’d do better than that…. He’d give me a pound to
sell for him along the beach. “Smoke as much as you want, as long as
you get me my money.” I agreed and he said he’d look me up later
that day.
He told me about most of his clients…... At every stop, he’d

explain who they were, their job titles, and what they purchased on a
weekly basis. I asked him why he was telling me this information and
he said he trusted me and would be having me do some of the
deliveries by myself in the future. It felt good to earn his trust.
I never had a father figure to look up to (except for Grandpa) so

I guess Milo was mine. Milo had that laid-back, grandfatherly attitude
about him. He was very cool and didn’t give a shit what anyone did,
as long as it didn’t affect him or his business. He told me how he’d
made millions of dollars in the past 15 years, just by selling drugs—
cocaine, mostly. He mostly invested in real estate, in Washington DC
and New York, as well as Miami. He had accountants to deal with a
portion of his money, while most of his cash was in safety deposit
boxes to purchase more cocaine.
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He said he’d been dealing with a group of Colombians since

1970 when cocaine started to become popular in Miami. He bought
50 to 100 kilos every six months or so. He sold a lot of coke…on a
daily basis. Sometimes, I’d drive him around for five or six hours,
dropping off kilos, half keys (“key”, being slang for Kilo), quarter
keys, and smaller amounts to all sorts of people. Business was good
for Milo.
I enjoyed my job, immensely. I could smoke pot while I drove

as long as I obeyed the speed limit. No problem! He ended up getting
me a birth certificate and a Social Security card to use to get me a
new driver’s license. I was nervous as hell using the documents at the
DMV, but it all went through easily. I took the test and got a new
driver’s license. I wasn’t me anymore. For the first time, in a long
time, I felt safe.
He sold me a pound of compressed, Jamaican bud for a grand. I

thought that was kind of steep since I was used to buying pounds
back home for a few hundred, but the quality of weed was why it was
so expensive. One toke would make you choke your head off and your
lungs would feel like they were collapsing. It was an immediate high
that lasted for hours. Very good shit.
I went to a head shop on South Beach, a place Milo directed me

to, and bought a bunch of various-sized zip lock baggies. Back at my
room, I made up some dime bags to sell along the beach. I knew I had
a few people that I could sell to, but I knew word of mouth would sell
the stuff quickly.
I went into McDonald’s and gave a few dimes to the manager.

He started giving me free food ever since I beat the kid up for hitting
Milo. Milo was a long-standing customer, and it was his way of paying
me back. The food didn’t cost them anything, so I ate breakfast, any
time, and anything else I wanted, with a smile.
Next, I went to a couple of T-shirt shops and handed out some

dime bags. Then, to Summers and the Elbow Room, my two favorite
places to hang out. I broke bread with the bartenders and then
moved around to the beach looking for people I knew to hustle the
weed, too.
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I passed out about 20 dime bags by the time I made it back to

my room. I had messages awaiting me from the T-shirt shops and
Summers. They wanted to see me. Ha! The hooks had been sunk.
I called them up and got their orders. I put them together and
went to deliver them. They loved the weed and wanted to make sure
I’d be able to accommodate the demand. I watched Milo tear the
pound off a huge bale of the stuff. Yeah, I could meet the demand. I
cautioned the guys that I was the only one who could deal weed to
them and no one else. They agreed; my little weed business was
started.
For about a month, I became a regular local who everybody

would say “Hey” to. I felt at home on the beach; like everyone was my
family, and they were glad to see me show up. I wasn’t fooled by that,
though. I knew that was mostly due to my being a pot dealer, but I
didn’t care. Everyone knew me as “Tom” and that’s all that mattered.
I had a few girls I was seeing, but not steady. I’d visit Sandy
every now and then, but mostly go in search of new girls. The
Covenant House had a bunch to choose from. I’d meet them during
the daytime and hang out with them. I’d buy them food, clothes,
whatever, and get them high just to get them back to my room and
have sex with them. I became a “Dog” in their eyes, too, but that didn’t
stop them from calling me to see if I was in or not. I made sure to
never make a commitment with any of them. They were just for sex….
and to help me sell pot. Ha!
I had been in Fort Lauderdale for about six months, already. It

was 1986 and I was living pretty damn good. I had plenty of money
hidden away, I had the coolest job and place to live, and I was known
as Tom “the weed guy”, just the one who had the best quality. There
were many others who walked the strip and would chant, “Weed,
coke”, all day long to the tourist. Some even rode bicycles up and
down the strip, selling dope and even their bodies. Both boys and
girls sold sex along Fort Lauderdale beach during this time. The
“hustlers” were my best customers. They’d hop in and out of cars all
day long just to make a few dollars to pay rent and get high. I didn’t
judge. Who was I to criticize anyone? To me, it was all a part of the
machinations of the beach, just like I was.
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Each and every morning, I got up and went directly to

McDonald’s to meet Milo. He’d give me directions, and times to meet
him, and I’d arrange my day around his scheduling. Other than that,
I’d eat my breakfast and go hang out on the boardwalk to watch the
sunrise, traffic flow, and the people. Plus, I’d smoke a joint. I loved
smoking a joint each morning on the boardwalk. It let me know that I
was free, and all was well in my world.
One morning, I sat on a bench that sat on the wooden sidewalk

next to the big pavilion to smoke a joint. I was watching the waves
and the beachcombers when a guy asked me to save him the roach of
my joint. He was a long-haired dude, around my age. He was lying on
the beach about 10 feet away from me when I sat down to fire it up.
He looked like a bum to me. They always slept on the boardwalk or
pavilion, so I never really paid much attention to him. I handed the
half smoked joint to him.
He took a couple of tokes and thanked me, telling me he was

looking for a job. Did I know anyone along the beach or anywhere? I
noticed this country accent and asked him where he was from.
“Arkansas,” he replied. We talked and I told him very little about
myself as he told me about his recent ups and downs, downs, mostly.
He came to Florida seeking work and a new life because it was hard
times in Arkansas. I could dig it.
He said his name was Jerry. I told him I was called Tom. He was
a very laid-back dude, so I decided to help him out. I asked him if he’d
be willing to hustle some of the weed he had just smoked and he said
he’d be willing to if it helped him get a room and a meal. I told him to
follow me.
I led him to McDonald’s and got him a good, free, breakfast. I

told him to meet me at the pavilion in 30 minutes
I went to my place and got 20 dime bags of weed for him to sell.
I’d give him a chance to either rob me or help me make some money.
Either way, I felt good about helping this dude.
He was waiting on me when I got back to the pavilion. I gave

him the 20 baggies and told him I wanted $100, 50% of what they
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usually sold for. The other hundred would be money for him to go to
a certain $20 a night motel and get himself a room and some food. He
thanked me, profusely. I told him I’d meet him the next morning at
McDonald’s to collect my money. If he was there, we’d talk about
future business. If not…well, then he just stole from me, and I’d be
looking for him. I vehemently explained that he didn’t need me
looking for him. He said I had nothing to worry about. I pointed out a
few places he could go to and sell a few bags. I wouldn’t be able to see
some of my beachcombers, so I told him to tell them that, “Tom sent
me.” And, not to give ANYONE, any credit. Cash on delivery! He
agreed and set about his tasks. I went to meet Milo and begin my day
of driving cocaine all over Broward and Dade County.
I had discussed my meeting Jerry with Milo. He thought it’d be

a good idea to put him to work, because it would free me up for more
driving. He said he was going to start having me do more of his
deliveries, since I knew most of the routes and places to go, already.
He needed to focus more of his time on the two women in his life. He
was, “Neglecting them and their “Milo-time,” he said. He was a real
character, that Milo!
He said he was giving me a raise because he knew he could

trust me, and I’d be earning the extra money. He’d give me 20% of
each sale I would deliver. Wow! 20% of a $20,000 kilo was $4000. I
delivered at least one, or two, a day. I’d be swimming in cash in no
time. I was ecstatic!
He said I’d be collecting debts, too. Even if I had to use force to

collect it. That made me smile. I couldn’t wait to inflict pain on some
dumbass, just to have some fun. He explained to me some of the
people who owed him money and how he wanted them scared, not
dead. Maybe broken, but not dead. I asked about them calling the
cops and he told me not to worry about that. They’d rather kill
themselves than call the cops on him or me. Ha! Milo was my kind of
father figure. I was moving on up!
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Chapter 69
Jerry became a very trusted friend. He met me each and every

morning at the pavilion, and we’d exchange money for pot. I gave him
ounces and baggies, and he’d give me cash. We’d smoke a joint and go
to McDonald’s for our free breakfast. Milo liked Jerry, too. Milo called
us “Tom and Jerry”, and we, being stoned, asked about it. Milo said I
was definitely the cat, and Jerry, the mouse. Ha! “Tom and Jerry” was
alive and thriving!
Whenever we weren’t both working, we were barhopping or

chasing girls. Or, rather, being chased by girls. Jerry cleaned himself
up and became a chick magnet along the beach. We’d be walking
along, and girls would hang out of car windows to yell at us and flirt
with us. We’d yell back, and sometimes end up crammed into a car
with 3 to 5 girls pawing all over us. Not that we minded. We enjoyed
it. We had our pick of girls to have sex with. I loved life during these
times.
Jerry got himself an apartment and a motorcycle from his

earnings. He was a good businessman and friend to have. We stayed
close friends for a very long time.
My life was taking off and I was making so much cash on a daily
basis that I had no idea what to do with it all. It became a habit for me
to come home, empty out my pockets of cash, bundle it into a roll and
hold it together with a rubber band, then toss the bundle into a box I
had in my closet. I had a pile of beach clothing that I may have worn
once on top of the box. I very rarely wore any of the clothing twice.
The guys and girls at the T-shirt shops let me pick out whatever I
wanted on a daily basis. The dime bags of weed I had Jerry selling
was my ticket to a lot of free stuff. Anyway, the clothes were on top of
the box full of cash.
This went on well into late summer. I was fixing to turn 19 and
I had a ton of cash on my hands. There were times when Milo would
go off on a 2 or 3-day trip somewhere out of the state where I had to
conduct the business. He’d leave me enough bags of coke to supply
customers and I’d collect the cash. During those days, I didn’t allow a
soul in my room. Not even Jerry. I might be holding up to $50,000 for
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Milo, not counting my money, so I didn’t trust anyone. At times, I

almost didn’t trust myself. There were plenty of times “Tommy Kaos”
would ask me why I was still hanging out, and I’d shut him up. I was
really enjoying myself. I had a life of ease and could party any time I
chose to. I had “friends” everywhere, and I could do no wrong. Sex
was just a stroll along the beach, and I could have any young girl or
older girl I chose to have. I was living in paradise, and I knew it. I
wasn’t about to take off and ruin it, although I very well could have.
Milo had taught me a lot. During our deliveries, he’d school me

on the rights and wrongs of pedaling drugs to so many different
people, who to trust, how to drive, how to blend in and not stand out.
So, I asked him, one day, what I should do with my money. He said I
should invest it. “How,” I asked. “I’m a wanted felon in two states.” He
told me he’d take care of it. He asked how much money I had now,
and I told him I’d tell him the next day. That night, alone with a fat
joint and some “Tesla” jamming on the boom-box, I began to count
my money. I emptied the box of rolled bundles onto my bed and
couldn’t believe the pile. I separated everything into its
denomination. Then, I counted it all. When I was done, I couldn’t
believe it, and counted it again. I had over $120,000 in cash in my
possession and it was all mine, but, what to do with it all?
I found it hard to believe that I had that much cash. I had the
money from the nightclub and was bringing home close to $2000 in
cash, on a daily basis, for the past few months. Yeah, it added up.
Wow!
I told Milo what I had, and he laughed at me. He told me I could

keep on saving it in cigarette boxes until I became a millionaire, or I
could put it into a trust account and have an attorney work it for me.
He said he’d introduce me to his attorney, William, and get me
hooked up. What did I want to buy, first? I thought about a Harley
Davison, but Milo said Fort Lauderdale was a death trap for bikers, so
put that aside for later. He encouraged me to buy a car, truck, or van
first. Okay, that’s settled…. Now what? I still have a lot of cash. “How
about a condo,” I asked him. “Good idea”, He said.
A few days later, he introduced me to William. He was a mousy-

looking guy with greasy hair and glasses. We sat at Milo’s dining
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room table and talked about what I could do with my cash. I gave him
$100,000 in a brown paper bag. We discussed what I’d purchase in
the coming days. I wanted a vehicle and a condo, but we agreed that I
couldn’t just appear out of the blue with this much money. The
government would want to know how I got it, and I sure as hell
wasn’t going to tell anyone it was from dealing drugs. He talked about
trust accounts and overseas accounts. I put my trust in him and he
said he’d take care of it. I left it at that. I was told to go in search of a
car I’d want to buy and a condo. Not a problem!
Milo had a house in Miami. He’d have me drive him to the

house, at least once a week. It was near Miami Gardens Drive and
located on the back road that was along the Miami River. To get to his
house, we pulled up to a fence that surrounded a big field. There were
two goats roaming around the yard eating grass. Milo got out of the
car and unlocked the padlock holding the fence closed. He pushed the
fence open, and I drove the car into the field. It had tire tracks leading
down the hill to a bunch of trees. Milo closed the gate to keep the
goats in. I drove to the bottom of the hill and into the trees. Inside the
trees was his house. It didn’t look like much of a house from the
outside, but inside, it was a palace.
Chinese “wormwood” walls, chandeliers, and antique furniture

everywhere. Milo said it was his “safe haven”, a place where he could
go to get away from everything and everyone and not be worried
about anything. It was, also, his cocaine stash house. He asked me to
go outside and run around, or just sit in the car, when he had to go
into his stash. He trusted me, but not as much as he led me to believe.
I don’t blame him, either. He had 50 to 100 kilos in that house at any
given time. What would stop me from attacking him and taking it? So,
I’d wait outside.
Right after I handed over my money to William, Milo and I went

to his house in Miami. As I was roaming around the yard, petting his
goats, and looking at the river that was in his backyard, I noticed a
white car of some sort hidden by tall weeds and grass. I went closer
and saw it was an old Corvette. I always loved a Chevy, but I idealized
and fantasized about owning a Vette, someday. Seeing this Vette as if
it was in a junkyard, made me want one. I could afford it. Why not
buy one?
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When Milo came outside, I mentioned seeing his Vette in the

clump of yard growth. He said he bought in 1969 and blew the engine
after six months. I asked him why he didn’t fix it and he said he just
forgot about it. I asked him to let me buy it. He said, “Why in the hell
would you want to buy that piece of shit?” I said it’d give me
something to spend my money on. He said I could have it. Ha! Just like
that, I owned of Vette.
After a few days, I contacted a Cuban mechanic Milo told me

about, and worked out the details and the cost of restoring the Vette.
We met at Milo’s house, and I got all the weeds, rats, and snakes out
of the way so “Cuba” could load the car onto his flatbed hauler and
take it away. I gave Cuba a few grand, shook his hand and said, “Make
that baby look beautiful!” He said, “No problem, amigo!”
I ended up meeting William again to go over price lists and

details of condos in the Fort Lauderdale beach area. I wanted one
right on the beach. I found it about a block north from Milo’s. It was a
16-story condo called, The Portofino. The condo was a two-bedroom,
two bath, on the 15th floor. It listed for under $125,000 due to
foreclosure. It was actually worth around $250,000, but due to its
destroyed interior—the previous occupants were drug users and
heavy metal band members—it was on the market at a great price. I
went with Milo and William to look at it.
The condo itself wasn’t much to look at, but its views were
awesome. It had a balcony on the east side and the west side of the
building. I stood out on each balcony and viewed the ocean and the
beach from 15 floors up and knew this was to be my home. I told
William to do what he had to in order to get me the condo.
After about a month wait, he came to me with a ton of

paperwork to sign. Milo had to co-sign for me, and we had to build
“legend”, of sorts, as to why I was able to afford this place. I didn't
know exactly how William did it, but I became the proud owner of the
condo. Money from the trust account would be deposited in
increments, throughout the year, to pay all of the costs for ownership.
I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted to move in. And I did just that as
soon as William gave me all of the keys I needed.
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I met the condo’s Association president and he showed me all

around the building. I had discussed my “legend” with him as we
walked. I was “An heir of a small fortune”, handed to me by my mom
and dad. They had died in a plane crash. I had no brothers or sisters
and just wanted to enjoy myself for a while before I decided what
kind of business I wanted to invest in.
John, “The prez”, showed me the banquet room, billiard’s room,

weight room, sauna, Jacuzzi, pool, docks, storage cages for each
condo, and my two parking spots. Not to forget the garbage chutes on
my floor. He welcomed me to the building, and I felt a rush of pride at
owning my home.
I had Jerry and Milo help me figure out what to do with the
place. Being a handy individual, I took the job of painting for myself. I
left Milo and his girls to the furniture-buying (with my money of
course), and I got Jerry to go with me to the Galleria Mall on Sunrise
Boulevard to buy all my basic “home” needs; dishes, utensils, clocks,
bedding for my newly bought king-size bed and the queen size bed in
the spare bedroom, bath needs, lamps, knickknacks, etc... In a month,
I was loaded with everything I’d need to live. Jerry and I christened
each room with pot smoke to ward off evil. I just had to go out and
get a girl to christen my new bed. No problem! I cruised to the
Covenant House, picked up a cutie for $20 and we messed up my new
bed. Home Sweet Home.
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Chapter 70
For months, I lived as I usually did; I moved drugs all over the
place for Milo while creating my own network of purchasers. I was
rolling in the cash. I was living in my own home and things looked
awesome for me. People all over the beach knew who, “Tom and
Jerry” were so I was a bit of a celebrity. Being a drug pusher tends to
let you think that people you’re dealing with are your “friends”. In
reality, it's just the opposite. I knew that, so I kept my personal life to
myself. Jerry was the only “friend”, other than Milo, that I’d let up in
my condo. I kept my cash stashed in a box in my closet, so I wasn’t in
a hurry to invite anyone up. Of course, I’d bring the prostitutes up
and use their services in my living room but that's as far as I’d let any
of them roam, other than the bathroom.
I was roaming everywhere. Milo would let me use his car, most
days, so I could go all over the place. I tried to go to bars off of the
beach just to meet women, but I never felt comfortable with them. I
usually ended up right back at “The Elbow Room” or “Summers on
the Beach”. I met a few girls who I would have liked to date regularly,
but in the end, they wanted what I could buy them. So, I treated them
like whores since that’s all they wanted anyway. I was getting lonely,
though.
The Cuban finally called me up around October (my birthday

month), saying he was done with my car. I had Milo rush me over to
the Cuban’s shop, in Little Havana to pick it up. I saw it as soon as I
pulled in. It was sitting all by itself with a bright, white, Pearle-scent
paint job. The car looked awesomely beautiful.
We pulled up next to the Vette, and the Cuban came out

smiling. He was proud of himself. He said he worked very hard
putting in a good engine, 429, new tires, and reinstalled every hose
and wire to get the car ready. I handed him another $4000 and that
made his smile even brighter. I opened the door and climbed inside.
It was beautiful. He had the interior steam cleaned and freshened so
it didn’t smell musty. I put the key in the ignition, and it cranked up as
soon as I turned the key. It felt like a very powerful car. It was time to
drive home.
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The car drove like a Vette should; mean, grumbly, and fast. It
made me feel superior to everyone else in vehicles around me. I was
hell on wheels. Of course, I paraded the car up and down the beach
numerous times. I even celebrated a bit by picking up one of my
regular Cuv girls and got a blow job while cruising the strip. I had to
christen the car properly, didn’t I?
One day, while driving around, I met a dude at the Shell gas
station that complimented me on my car. He drove a brand-new
Mitsubishi Eclipse. We talked for a few minutes when I noticed he
was sniffling and having to wipe his nose. I asked him if he was sick,
but he smiled and said he was “Draining”. Which, to coke users,
meant he needed another snort of coke to stop his nose from running.
I told him if he ever needed “anything” to give me a beep. (I just got a
new beeper). He said he wanted to buy some coke immediately, so I
followed him to his condo just a few blocks away.
He had introduced himself as Mike. We got to his condo, which

was a ground level affair with two other condos. His, was the first one
as you pulled into a tiny parking lot. We pulled into the lot; there was
a black Jaguar with gold wire-rimmed mags and limo tint sitting in
the lot as well. When Mike got out of his car, and I got out of mine, a
very gold-laden black girl got out of the jag. Mike was happy to see
her and introduced me to her as we followed him to his condo. Her
name was Tina.
Inside the condo, Mike excused himself and went to his

bedroom and shut the door, leaving Tina and I alone. I took the
opportunity to flirt, since I saw she was eyeing me and smiling. She
was a gorgeous black girl in a ghetto kinda way, a fat ass, nice tits, big
sexy lips, and a mouthful of gold. She radiated “drug dealer” as much
as I did. We flirted and talked. Mike came out with a fistful of cash.
Tina opened her purse and pulled out a pill bottle full of crack.
She poured out a handful and counted out the amount for Mike’s
money. Then Mike gave me a couple hundred dollars for an eight-ball.
As I handed it to him, Tina smiled at me, and I at her. We had a lot in
common.
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On our way out to our cars, I gave Tina my beeper number and
she gave me hers. I let her know that I’d meet her anywhere, any
time. All she had to do was call and tell me where to be, and I’d get
there. She said she’d see if I was serious or just “playing” her. I smiled
and left.
Later that evening, I answered a beep…it was Tina. She said she
had a motel room and wanted to know if I’d join her. In 15 minutes, I
was knocking on her door. She answered it, naked. We spent a couple
of hours enjoying each other in all sorts of ways. We smoked a couple
of joints and talked about our different lives. She was married and
had two kids by huge black guy named Ray. He verbally abused her
but gave her anything she wanted. She just had to help him sell dope.
I was her very first white guy. She said she was always curious about
having sex with a white boy, and I had done to her what her friends
always joked about…making her gasp, quiver, and climax with my
tongue and fingers. She said she wanted to see me on a regular basis.
I had no problem with that at all. We met on a regular basis at a
variety of motels of her choosing. She became a steady booty-call for
a couple of years.
As to Mike, he became a serious customer. He shared with me

how he came into $1 million lawsuit he had filed on a female boss for
sexual harassment. He spent his days doing drugs with prostitutes.
He’d call me to his place at least four times a week to buy an ounce of
coke and an ounce of weed. A few times I was there, he’d let me have
one of the girls he had strung out in his condo. If she was fine I’d take
her in the spare room and get a quickie, but most of the times his
“girls” were so cracked out of their minds, I’d pass and leave.
One day, after being summoned to Mike’s place, he took me

into his bedroom to conduct “business” with me. He had a couple of
crack whores and a dude in the living room and didn’t want to let our
business be known to them. In the room, with the door shut, Mike
went to a wall electrical outlet and unscrewed the faceplate. Inside
was a hollow place where he kept a stash of cash. I gave him an ounce
of coke and he paid me. He put the remaining cash and cocaine into
the outlet and replaced the lid. We went into the living room, and I
left.
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I was driving down his block when I pulled up to a four-way

stop. Across from me was a minivan with two men facing me. At the
left of me was another minivan with two men in. Not really paying
attention, I turned right and went on home.
A couple hours later, I received a phone call from Mike. He was

in jail. He said right after I left his condo, “Raiders” (police officers)
raided his condo and arrested everyone for drugs and possession.
Would I please, come and bond him out? His bond was $5000, cash.
He said he’d pay me the cash back as soon as he got to the bank. I
agreed to go get him out.
The first thing he wanted me to do was go to his condo before

going to a bondsman. He said he had $3500 cash in his hidey-hole,
along with the ounce that I sold him. If the money was there, he’d
only need 1500 from me. So, I went to his condo to see what was up.
I was leery about pulling into his driveway, so I passed a few

times to make sure no one was there. His condo door was ajar. I could
see it as I passed by. Nervous still, I pulled into the parking lot and
cautiously walked to his door. I pushed the opened-door open and
called out to see if anyone was there. No one answered. I looked
inside and saw the place was trashed. The whole place was
ransacked. I went to his bedroom and saw the outlet cover was still in
place. I opened it up, and sure enough all his money and cocaine was
still in there. I took it all out and got the hell away from there. I went
to the bondsman and bonded Mike out.
A few hours later, Mike called me and asked me to bring him an

ounce of coke and weed he was home, trying to clean up his house.
When I got there, he told me how one of the whores had

snitched on him. She wanted to be his only girl, but Mike was like me;
he liked the variety. I told him that when I got there, the place was a
mess, and I never entered the condo. His door was locked, I said. (I
had locked it on my way out.) He said the cops had gotten into his
stash and never logged the money as evidence. The coke, either. He
guessed that they took it since everyone knew cops were crooked. I
agreed that that was likely the reason. I gave him the ounces and he
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agreed to pay me all of my money the next day as soon as he made it

to the bank. No problem! The next day, he paid me in full!
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Chapter 71
Working for Milo took a turn soon after I got settled in my

condo. He had told me that he’d need me to “hurt” someone for him
in the future, but up to this point he never had. Well, he called me up
and said he had a quick job for me. I went to his condo to see what
kind of “job”, he was talking about.
When I got to his place, he was in an agitated state, saying some

asshole doctor had been buying dope from one of Milo’s customers.
Apparently, the doctor owed Milo a few grand and was giving him the
run-around about his money, all the while he was running to another
dealer to buy his dope. Milo told me he wanted the doc to be “broken
down”, for his “blatant dishonesty” and I was to “break bones, but not
kill him.” Fine with me! Milo told me where he lived, and I set off to
see the good doctor.
I had a mini crowbar I kept in the trunk for changing a flat tire,
so I decided to use that on the doc. I drove into the driveway and
went to the door of a really nice house. I kept the crowbar at my side,
hanging by my right leg. I rang the doorbell. I was told the doc lived
alone, but I wanted to be careful. When the dude opened the door, I
swung the crowbar right into his left collarbone. CRACK! The dude
fell down into a heap on the floor, screaming. I rushed inside and told
the dude to shut the fuck up or I’d kill him. He whimpered, “What do
you want from me?”
I told him he had 5 minutes to come up with the three grand he

owed Milo, or I was gonna hurt him some more. He pointed to a safe
behind a picture on the wall and gave me the combination. I opened it
up to see a stack of cash. I took out a $10,000 stack of cash and
counted out Milo’s three grand. I tossed the rest back in the safe and
shut it. I showed the dumbass that I only took three grand and told
him if he reported any of this to the cops, I’d be back to kill him and
burn down his house with him in it. He swore he wouldn’t call
anyone. I left.
I got to Milo’s and told him what went down. He laughed and
said I did a great job. He gave me half of the three grand for my
troubles. Not bad.
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Next was a hairdresser out in Davie, Florida—just west of Fort

Lauderdale. Milo said the dude owed five grand and I was to break
his leg. The dude was running around saying his, “boyfriend” would
kick Milo’s ass if Milo came looking to collect. I took my trusty gun
along just in case I met the “boyfriend”.
Just like the doctor, the fag opened up his door to me. I pushed
the door open and smashed the crowbar into the fag’s left kneecap,
shattering it. I had to hit the dude in the head immediately
afterwards, because he started screaming like a woman. I got his door
closed and pulled out my gun to see if anyone else was home. No one
was there but the fag. I dragged him into the living room and slapped
him until he came to. When he opened his eyes, I had my gun staring
him in the face. He was scared to death, but I let him know not to say
a word. He understood.
I asked him why he kept on saying stupid stuff about Milo, but
all he’d say was he was sorry and wouldn’t do it anymore. I told him I
was sent there to kill him, but I was a fair guy, and I would cut him
some slack if he could come up with Milo’s money. With hope in his
eyes, he told me where to look for his cash stash. He only had about
three grand, but he quickly gave me his Rolex begging me not to kill
him. I told him he had to call Milo and apologize to him. If he did that,
I’d never see him again. He promised, and I left. Milo gave me the
Rolex for my help. Cool!
Next was a beach maggot, named Scott. Milo had loaned Scott a
couple of eight balls about a month before. Usually, Milo didn’t deal
with street people, but he knew Scott and gave him coke before on
credit. Scott always paid. This time, Scott was mouthing off about
Milo, saying, “Fuck that old man!” And “I ain’t paying him shit!” He
also said he, “thought about robbing Milo,” to a kid that Milo bought
McDonald’s food for a few times. Milo put me on him.
It took me a few days to find the dude. He was a beach hustler

and lived in various motels throughout the week. It all depended on
how much money he scammed or stole from the fags and the tourists
on any given day. Through the grapevine, and a couple a dime bags
later, I was told exactly where to find him. Knowing the dude to be a
diehard crack head, I knew this meeting wouldn’t take long.
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I got to his hotel room door and knocked. He asked me who it

was, and I said I was the manager’s assistant. The dummy opened the
door. I pushed the door open and punched the guy right in the nose,
knocking him out cold. A prostitute got up off of the bed, but my gun
made her sit back down. I closed the door and dragged Scott to the
center of the room. The prostitute was nude and asked me if she
could get dressed. I said no. I asked her where the guy’s money was
at, and she handed me his wallet. He had $150 in it. I took it and gave
it to the girl, telling her why I was there. She was really calm about it
all, and I assured her I wouldn’t hurt her at all. I had her gather up all
of the crack paraphernalia, then, I let her get dressed. She asked me if
I was going to kill Scott. I told her it all depended on the conversation
we had as soon as he awoke.
Scott came to, and I put the gun in his face. I asked him why he
was mouthing off about Milo and refusing to pay. He said he was just
down on his luck, and he had heard that Milo had put a hit on him. He
never thought Milo would really go through with it. I assured him
that I was there to kill him. He pissed his underwear and started to
cry.
When he calmed down a bit, I told him I’d make a deal with
him. I’d tell Milo that I beat him to a pulp and ran him out of town. All
Scott had to do was leave town and never come back to the beach
again. He cried, and thanked me, and promised he’d leave
immediately. I warned him that if the cops were called, or I ever saw
him again, I’d blow his brains out. He assured me that Milo, or me,
would ever see him again. I left. And so did Scott.
I went and told Milo what I thought would suffice him about
Scott. He was pleased and paid me $200. He’d have paid anyone to
beat the guy’s ass. I took that money and I bought myself a whore. I
needed some relaxation.
The beach was full of “beach maggots”. Beach maggots were

people who scammed, stole, sold fake or chopped up drugs, and
prostituted (both male and female). They scoured the beach on a
daily basis just trying to survive. I hung out and smoked pot with a lot
of them, especially the girls. But there were few dudes who were cool
to talk shit with, too. I never got too close to many of them. Jerry was
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the only one who became my friend, but he wasn’t a maggot. He was
just a country boy, down on his luck. The maggots never looked for
reasonable futures. They just wanted to get high and party for the
day.
One of these maggots was called “Little Bon Jovi”. He was a

short, good-looking kid with Bon Jovi-styled hair, hence the
nickname. All the girls loved him, but so did the fags. He was a gay
hustler, who tricked with fags and spent money with the girls. He also
owed Milo some money and refused to pay. When Milo put out word
of a $200 hit on Lil’ Jovi, he got mouthy and returned the threat. He
said he’d give $400 to the person who jumped on Milo and beat his
ass. Milo called the big boys: The Colombians.
One afternoon, on a nice sunny day, a van came cruising down

A-1-A heading south. When it got next to the “drug wall” (a block-long
strip where all the druggies and prostitutes hung out), the side door
of the van came open and a very dead, Little Bon Jovi came flying out
onto the sidewalk. The van screeched off, never to be seen, or
described properly, again. Little Bon Jovi was stabbed several times
and had his throat cut wide open with his tongue pulled out through
the cut in his neck. That’s called a “Columbian necktie.” I don’t think
anyone ever knew why Jovi was killed; except for Milo and myself.
“Oh well”, I say! “You play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.”
Next, was some dumb maggot called “DJ”, DJ worked US ONE,

between Broward Boulevard and Sunrise Avenue. He, too, was a male
prostitute. Milo had a delivery to make to a bartender at a club on
Sunrise. When Milo pulled into the parking lot, DJ must’ve been
walking by and saw him. Milo carried a key ring with at least 50 keys
on it, so he usually left them under his seat while he went into
someone’s business or residence. On this day, it was no different. He
put his keys under the driver seat and went into the bar.
DJ crept over to Milo’s car and jumped into the driver seat. He
was looking for anything he could steal and sell for some crack. When
he found the keys, he decided to steal the whole car.
Milo came out and saw his car gone. He went back inside the
bar and made a few calls. He, then, caught a cab ride home.
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When he walked in the door of his condo, he realized he was

robbed there, too. It seemed that whoever stole his car, knew exactly
where he lived, and took good advantage of it. Milo called up a couple
of his “friends” to come over. His friends were two Fort Lauderdale
robbery detectives.
He had called them earlier about his car, but this time they had
the opportunity to take some fingerprints. They came over and took a
lot of prints. Milo made sure they had eliminated my fingerprints so
not to confuse their search. He paid the detectives some cash and
asked them to be as fast as possible. They said they would.
I had asked Milo if he wanted me to handle the dumbass that

did this when he found out who it was. He said, no, he had other
plans. I knew what that meant, too. The Colombians!
It only took the detective a day to figure out the thief’s name.
When Milo told me who it was, I knew exactly where the kid
“worked”, and told him. He made a call and gave out instructions.
A few days later, DJ was found in a dumpster behind a cheap

motel, with the Columbian necktie. Milo told me at our morning
meeting at McDonald’s as he laughed, and I just shook my head. He
wanted me to tell everyone on the beach that he was responsible for
both Bon Jovi and DJ, but I refused. He wanted everyone to know
they’d end up the same if they didn’t quit trying him like a “Mark”
(sucker). I told him that telling people he was responsible would only
scare people into going and telling on him. He saw my reasoning and
just asked me to let people know that if they fought with him, they’d
be “Put down… like a rabid dog”. I assured him I’d pass on the
message.
During my morning rounds, I made certain to tell everyone I

felt would pass on Milo’s message. I just made it more my message
than Milo’s. I let it be known that if anyone even thought about
robbing Milo, in any way, I’d seek revenge with brutality. Everyone
understood!
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Chapter 72
One evening, with not much else to do but wait on someone to

call or beep, I went to Summers to watch a tribute band do some
“Doors” music. I was bored and feeling kind of down since I had a big,
beautiful condo and no one to share it with. So, I decided to do some
drinking. I didn’t drink alcohol, so after the first three beers, I was
feeling really buzzed. I sat at a small circular table with one tall
barstool. It was up against a steel pole in the middle of the viewing
area. I was drinking while leaning against the pole.
I’m not sure exactly how long I was there, nor how many beers
I had drank, but by closing time, I was smashed. I barely remember
anything. What I do remember was falling off the barstool and an
angel helping me up. I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. She was blonde,
beautiful, and blue-eyed, wearing a security guard uniform. I thought
I was crazy, or maybe it was Halloween, and I just forgot my costume
or something. The bartender came over and helped her help me up
off the floor. I couldn’t speak coherently, but I did say “My Angel”,
while staring at her. She laughed, as she wrapped an arm around my
drunken excuse for a human body. I was fucked up.
The bartender told her my name and asked me if I could make

it home okay. I just looked at him like he was crazy. The guard-girl,
Amy, asked me where I lived and I staggered her towards the rear
door, and pointed to the Portofino building, a block away. The
bartender told her that, yes, I did indeed live there, on the 15th floor.
I had pointed it out to him the day after I moved in. I was so proud, I
told everyone.
The bartender asked Amy if she could help me make it home

since he had to clean up the bar and close up. She said she would. My
Angel!
She was strong for being 5’4”. I used her for a crutch while
trying, but failing miserably, to carry on a conversation with her. She
kept laughing at me, so that was a plus. We got to my condo, and she
helped me all of the way inside the elevator, but I refused to let her
go. She had to help me up to my condo, first. She laughed, again, and
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that made me lean onto her while the elevator climbed to the 15th
floor.
We made it inside my condo, and she helped me onto my sofa. I

pulled her down with me, but she quickly got up and said she had to
go. I could barely speak as she left. I passed out and dreamed of
Angels saving me from myself.
The very next day, I went back to Summers after I met with
Milo. I asked the daytime bartender about Amy, the security guard.
He said she only worked at night, so I’d have to wait until then. It was
a long day.
By 7 p.m. I was right back at the same table, minus the beer. I
drank Coke, instead. When Amy came in, wearing her uniform, I felt
like a smitten schoolboy. I waited for her to get settled into her post,
then, I went towards her. She saw me coming and smiled a beautiful,
welcoming smile at me. I properly introduced myself as “Tom” and
apologized for being such a wreck the evening before. She laughed
and said she normally helps people into cabs, not their condos. I
thanked her again and asked her if she’d let me thank her properly by
taking her to dinner. She looked at me, skeptically, and I told Mike,
the evening bartender from the night before, to verify for me as to
“not being a drunk”. He assured her that I usually nursed a beer or
drank a Coke when I came in. Last night was a first. He also assured
her that I was “One of the good guys”. She told me she’d think about it
and that was good enough for me. I gave her my beeper number and
left her to do her job.
The very next night I was back and waiting for her. She laughed
at my persistence and smiled when I gave her a rose. I asked her,
again, if she’d go out with me. She asked me if I liked steak and eggs,
and I told her I LOVED steak and eggs. She told me to meet her at 2
a.m. Hot damn! I had a date.
At 2 a.m., I was back at Summers. Amy had taken off her

uniform and was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. She was looking
very hot, dressed as she was. We took my Vette to a local steak and
egg restaurant on US ONE and got to know each other.
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I gave her my usual spiel of being in heir to a small fortune and

living off a trust fund. I was spoiled with nothing to do and didn't
know what I wanted to do. I hadn’t had any family and no girlfriends.
I dated here or there, but, as of yet, hadn’t met anyone I was
interested in for a long-term relationship. That is, until I saw her. She
smiled and blushed.
She told me she was going to the Fort Lauderdale Police

Academy during the day and working as a security guard at night.
She was an “only child”, too, and still lived with her mom and dad.
She wanted to be a police officer, “Just like her dad!” I had to really
think about if I wanted to date her or not. She was just so cool to talk
to and fine as could be to look at. She acted down-home, and I was
really comfortable with her.
We ate steak and eggs and talked about all sorts of topics. I
asked her to let me take her on a “real date”, and she agreed. It had to
be on the weekend since she was very busy throughout the week. We
set up a whole Saturday outing. I was happy with anticipation.
On Saturday, we went to HO JOs on A-1-A and had breakfast

together. Then we set off down the beach for some sun, sand, and
surf. By noon, we went back to my place and made love. I called it
“love” because we had long, slow sex, enjoying each other. By dinner
time, we were starving. We went to Ruth Chris’s Steakhouse, on US
ONE, and pigged out. She ended up staying with me that night. By
Sunday evening, when she had to go home, I was in love with Amy.
We’d spend our weekends together and I’d drop in to see her
every evening at Summers. On Friday nights, she’d come to my place,
and we’d spend the weekend together. Milo would do all the
deliveries on the weekends because I’d take the battery out of my
beeper. Things were running along smoothly for me. I was in love
with a great girl, and I was making thousands of dollars a week,
selling cocaine. No one was the wiser. No one at Summers told her
what kind of “businessman” I was, so I was liking that. I knew if she
knew I was dealing cocaine, she’d run for the hills.
We spent Christmas together; she wanted me to meet her folks.

I wasn’t too into that, but I agreed. Her dad was leery of me, but her
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mom loved me. We ate a huge meal and opened presents. I gave Amy
a $10,000 necklace. Everyone was stunned by it. I was “rich and
money wasn’t anything to me,” I said. I do believe Amy loved me, too,
but I’m not 100% on that. I’m pretty sure she and her dad ran my
“name” through the police database but came up with nothing. I had a
clean name, so I wasn’t worried. But if they checked harder...it’d be
found that my “mom and dad” weren’t dead. They lived in Michigan.
As I moved into 1987, things were looking very promising for

me. I asked Milo to help me invest more of my cash into some sort of
business enterprise so I could have some kind of “professional life” to
show Amy’s family. He said he’d get with William and help me figure
it out.
By the time spring break came back around, I was still moving
cocaine and marijuana all over the place. Amy and I still had our
weekend routine and she, still, worked Monday through Friday and in
the evenings at Summers. My days were spent on the beach.
Jerry would come up and down the beach, and we set up some
lounge chairs in a parking space right along the beach wall. We’d
even feed the meter since we’d occupy the space. The meter maid
would roll up to us and shake her head. She marked my flip-flops
with chalk once, just to laugh at us. We pissed a lot of people off by
taking the space, but Jerry and I could fight well, so not too many
people messed with us.
I had it so good that I could put our beach chairs in the

McDonald’s manager’s office for storage. I was a regular customer
who gave weed to the manager and sold to some employees.
Everyone liked Tom and Jerry. We even got free food at a few other
restaurants, due to our drug status. It was great. T-shirt shop
employees loved us, too. “Free merchandise”, whenever we wanted it.
All it cost us was a dime bag of pot once, or twice, a week. No
problem!
On one of these beach days with me and Jerry, we were sitting

in our usual parking space across from McDonald’s. The “Beach
buggy”, city bus had just rolled past us. It stopped a short distance
north of us. I only noticed it because it always blew out obnoxious
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fumes in our faces as it passed by. When it stopped, I saw a site that I
didn’t see too often on Fort Lauderdale beach… Two of the finest,
light-skinned, black girls I had ever seen got off the bus and walked in
our direction. Jerry and I gawked at them and said “Hello” as they
passed by. They smiled and kept on walking.
After about 30 minutes, they passed us again. This time, I asked

them if they smoked weed. The tallest one said, “Sure, mon!” They
were Jamaican babes.
One was tall, around 6’. The other was about 5’6”. Both wore
bikinis with wrapped-around-sarongs. Both…were absolutely hot.
The tall one’s name was Shelley, and the short one’s name was
Amber. I took a liking to Shelley while Jerry talked to Amber as we
smoked a joint with them in front of everyone on Fort Lauderdale
Beach.
Somehow, Jerry and I persuaded the girls to come back to my

condo with us. We walked to McDonald’s, put up our chairs, and
strolled to the crib.
At first, I took them in the billiards room to play some pool and
listen to the jukebox. We smoked a joint and hung out for a while. I
sweet-talked Shelley into following me across the hall to the banquet
room. I got her on the sofa, and we went at it, hot and heavy. We had
quick sex on the sofa and went back into the billiards room to catch
Jerry and Amber. He had her bent over the pool table. I closed the
door quickly and told Jerry, through the door, that we’d meet him
upstairs at my place.
I took Shelley into my bedroom, and we fucked, again. When

we were done, we showered together and met Jerry and Amber in the
living room. Everyone was smiling. We smoked more pot and told lies
until Shelley and Amber said they had to leave. I offered them a ride,
but they refused, preferring to ride the bus.
Jerry and I kicked back and laughed at our luck. We both had
our share of girls chasing after us, so it was a treat to chase after girls
for a change. This was Jerry’s first ever experience with black girls.
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He liked it. “It’s all pink, inside,” I told him. Jerry left, and I went back
to business as usual.
The next day, at around 9 a.m., Shelley was downstairs, buzzing

me from the gate. I let her up. She came right into my bedroom and
got naked, and we had sex for a couple of hours. Her accent was sexy
to me; so was her body. I could stay hard for her all day. By 2 p.m.,
she left, again.
She told me she had just arrived from Jamaica a few weeks
before. She hadn’t finished high school in Jamaica and wanted to
come to America. She lived with her dad, a jewelry dealer, while her
mom lived in Fort Lauderdale and was remarried. She came over to
stay with her mom. Her mom wanted her to finish high school in
America, so she enrolled at Stranahan High School. She didn’t like it,
so she skipped school to come to the beach. She left every day at 2
p.m. so she could act like she just got out of school. No one was the
wiser.
She ended up coming to my place Monday through Friday;

never on the weekends, which was fine by me. I had Amy on the
weekends.
I juggled both girls for about three weeks, until tragedy struck
one Saturday morning.
Amy and I were at Ho Jo’s on our usual Saturday morning

outing. We had just left Ho Jo’s and were walking South on A-1-A
hand-in-hand. The beach buggy had just passed us, but I had paid no
attention. The next thing I hear is Shelley cursing at me from behind. I
froze up. Amy asked me what was wrong, and I told her not to worry,
that I’d take care of it. I turned around to meet Shelley. Shelley
walked up to me with hurt and anger in her eyes and slapped me
across the left cheek. Amy stepped up and pushed Shelley, calling her
a bitch and “Take your fucking hands off my man!” Shelley told her,
“You dumb, white bitch, that’s my man!” Amy punched Shelley in the
face and turned and slapped me. She asked me who the fuck this,
“black whore” was, and I couldn’t say anything. I was caught. Amy
tried to slap me again, but I blocked her swing. She started crying and
ran off down the street. Shelley had fallen down when Amy punched
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her, and she was crying, asking me why I was cheating on her. I
turned and ran after Amy.
Amy made it back to her car before I could stop her from
leaving. My heart sank as she peeled away from me. I went up to my
condo to wallow in my own self-pity.
After about 20 minutes, Shelley was buzzing me from the gate. I

refused to answer until the guard called me and told me he’d have to
call the cops on her if she didn’t leave. I told him to let her up. I was
weak, I know!
She came up, still crying. I let her in, and she walked into my
arms. She cried and cried, telling me she loved me and asked me why
I was cheating on her. I told her the truth.... That I was cheating on
Amy with her. I couldn’t help it, I told her. She (Shelley) was too
beautiful, and I had to have her. To calm her down a bit, she let me
lead her to my bedroom. I peeled off her clothes and made love to
her, over and over again. When we were spent, she said she forgave
me and asked me to promise not to cheat on her like I did with Amy.
Of course, I agreed, not intending to keep that promise. I still wanted
Amy.
That night, at Summers, Amy threatened to shoot me if I didn’t

“Get the fuck away from her.” She told the bar’s manager that she’d
quit if I didn’t leave. He asked me to go, and I did. Amy gave back the
necklace I gave her for Christmas. I walked across the street and
threw it into the ocean. Fuck it! I went home, smoked some pot, and
fell asleep.
Shelley woke me up the next morning. I buzzed her up, and she
got naked and climbed into bed with me. This began our routine.
After a few days of having Shelley during the morning, I’d go

out in search of a Cuv girl at night. Sometimes, I just called up an
escort service and satisfied my young needs that way. I was feeling
sorry for myself for no real reason. I had everything a guy could ask
for, except love. I had no love at all! I’m sure Shelley thought she
loved me, but I didn’t love her. I lusted after her. She was a great
lover, but not so great to hang out with. I kept myself down in the
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dumps by smoking pot 24/7 and even drinking alcohol, too. That all
changed, overnight.
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Chapter 73
I had one of my late evenings. I usually came home around

midnight, but due to one of my consistent customers hounding me all
night, for an eight-ball, over and over again, I didn’t fall asleep until
about 4 a.m. This dude had a lot of money, all the money God could
give a person. But he kept on buying eight-balls instead of a kilo. He’d
snort up an eight-ball in about two hours and want more. On this
night, he had snorted right through my stash of pre-packaged
cocaine, and I didn’t have time to bag up more. I was almost asleep by
the last time he called me. I had to get out of bed, get my coke stash
out, along with the triple beam scales and baggies, and weigh out an
eight-ball for him. I left everything on the kitchen table. When I came
home, I went right back to bed. I thought, “Fuck it, I’ll put it all away
tomorrow.”
The next morning around Shelley’s usual time, she buzzed me,
and I let her up. I wasn’t up to our usual sex romp, so she just cuddled
up next to me. I went back to sleep.
Not long afterwards, she woke me up wanting me to explain all

of the cocaine in the kitchen. UGH! Damn, I forgot! I jumped out of
bed and went and put everything away. Shelley was right on my
heels, asking me what I had all the cocaine for. I told her I sold a little
on the side and for her not to mess with it. She began pouting and
purring, asking me to let her do some. I told her to go back to bed. She
kept begging and pleading for me to give her some. She said sex
would be awesome with her own coke, but I didn’t care. I put it all
away and went back to bed.
She came back to the room, pouting, telling me she wanted to

do some cocaine. I kept telling her to shut up and get in bed, but she
wouldn’t, still pouting. I was up, horny now, and said, “Fuck it!” I went
and gave her enough for few lines. She chopped it up and snorted it,
and sure enough, she climbed into bed and gave me some of the
fastest, hottest, sex I’ve had in a while. At least, it felt like that at the
time.
By her usual 2 p.m. bus ride for home, she was back to normal.
We talked about my side business as just that, a hobby. She told me
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about her American family members as “crack dealers.” She hated

them. They kept trying to marry her off to some cousin, or friend,
who was a major drug pusher, but she wanted to “enjoy America”
before marrying and having kids. I told her it was a good idea to
enjoy herself. She was just 17 years old and still beautiful. She had
her whole life ahead of her. When she went home, she left smiling.
The next morning, she came back at her usual time. This time,
she came with a “present” for us. She got naked and climbed into bed.
She reached over me and grabbed my water bong. She put some of
my pot into the bowl, and a piece of crack on the weed. I asked her
what it was, and she told me. I let her straddle me as she fired up the
bong. She took a massive hit and set the bong on the nightstand. She
laid on my chest and locked lips with me, blowing me a shotgun. Not
really thinking straight, since I had this gorgeous girl riding my dick, I
inhaled the smoke. When I blew it out, I got a tingly sensation all over
my body. I swear my dick grew a couple more inches. She loaded the
bong up again and blew me another shotgun. I got even higher.
I asked her where she got the dope from, and she said she stole
it from her cousin. He had a big baggy full and wouldn’t miss any. We
ended up smoking all of the way up to the time she had to leave. I was
high as a kite by then.
When she left, I had to call a dude I sold coke to and had him
talk me through the simple process of cooking up the coke into crack.
After a fumble, or two, I got it straight. I sat in my living room on the
sofa smoking crack and watching the beach life through another
afternoon, evening, and night. I had to unplug the phone and beeper
to keep my place quiet.
The high was totally opposite of the first time I tried it. I didn’t
get queasy or vomit. I got lifted to a whole new reality it seemed. My
senses were heightened. I could hear things that I was certain weren’t
my imagination. Every nerve in my body was alive and alert. It felt
euphoric; yet, after a while I got to a point of wanting to be the only
human alive. The world could’ve passed away and I’d not have cared
at all. Time passed by so fast, it was amazing.
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By 9 a.m. the next morning, I was still sitting on the living room
sofa with my bong, weed, and a plateful crack. Shelley buzzed to be
let up and I hesitated, but only for second. I wasn’t sure if I wanted
any company or not. But…just thinking of her and sex...I buzzed her
up.
When she walked in, she said, “My God Tom, what ya been
doin’ mon?” I told her I’d been up all night, waiting on her. I told her
to take her clothes off and do a hit. She didn’t hesitate. In 5 minutes, I
had her high, nude and bent over the sofa. We got high until 2 p.m.,
when she had to leave again.
Once again, I smoked most of the day. At least, until, the guard
at the gate buzzed the intercom and told me I had company trying to
contact me. I went on a balcony, and saw it was Mike, the dude I had
bonded out of jail.
I got dressed and went down to the gate to see what he wanted.
I went to him, because I knew he did coke and crack, and I could talk
to him about my new experience. Also, I could leave with him and
hide out to do some more coke, with no one to bother me.
He said he called and beeped, “100 times” to get some more

coke, but he got no answer. He thought I was in jail, or the hospital, or
worse. I explained that I had gotten on the cocaine and couldn’t quit
just yet. He said he knew exactly what I was talking about. I asked
him if we could go to his place and get high, and that I would provide
the coke. He readily accepted. I went back to my place and packed a
bag with about a quarter kilo, a couple ounces of weed, cigarettes,
lighter, wallet, and a couple grand in cash, and a change of clothes. I
was going on a secret holiday and felt like a kid running away from
home. I knew going to Mike’s like this, no one would know where I
was, and that’s what I wanted. Solitude! So, I could get as high as the
drug could get me.
We went to his place and cooked up a batch of crack. After a

while, we called an escort service and ordered two girls. We paid
them well and swapped them back and forth for a couple of days. I,
slowly, got to the point of being physically tired. I kept trying to stay
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high, but my body wasn’t having it. I was awake for six straight days
before I finally put the pipe down and went to sleep.
When I awoke and realized where I was at and what I had done
for the past week, I had to come up with a good story to tell everyone.
I came up with the guise of having met a girl and going to Key West to
relax. Simple enough, the only person, I felt, I owed an explanation to
was Milo. But, I had the feeling that I had to give everyone else the
same excuse, so no one would know my shame. I felt shameful for
having weakened to the point of smoking cocaine. I’ve seen how it
made people do all sorts of crazy stuff and I had vowed to never do it,
but here I was…knowing exactly why they kept up the chase. It was to
feel that very first euphoric hit to your system of, “AHHHH, all was
well with the universe, and nothing can harm me!” But that euphoric
feeling fades fast, and you keep chasing it. Hit after hit after hit.
Well…I got up showered, dressed and told Mike I had to go. He

bought some more cocaine and I went home by cab. He was too high
to drive.
At home, the gate guard told me I had had a lot of callers and
visitors, especially Shelley. I thanked him by giving him a couple
hundred dollars for his help in silence. He became a trusted hire.
In my condo, I had to clean up the place. I had left all of my

smoking utensils out, and contraband everywhere. When I put the
battery back in my beeper, and plugged my phone back in, they both
began to scream. Sigh!!! Time to go work on my lie.
Milo cussed me out for not telling him about my “getaway” in

advance so he could take care of the customers. I apologized
profusely but was adamant that “I just had to get away for a few
days.” I contacted all of my customers and got to work. It took a few
hours, but I got everyone back into their cocaine groove of either,
snorting, smoking, or selling it. I had to repeat my lie dozens of times,
until it became my truth. It was a good lie because most people knew
I had split up with Amy, so the getaway was plausible. No one knew
about my coke holiday but Shelley and Mike.
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The next morning, Shelley showed up and climbed into bed

with me. We didn’t do any cocaine. I refused to let her talk me into it.
I had a lot of business to tend to and, until I got some sort of grip on
it, I knew I couldn’t lose total control; not yet. We went to the beach
and hung out. I took care of all my beach buddies with baggies of
weed and coke and put Shelley on the 2 p.m. city bus.
When I did my last delivery, by 9 p.m., I snuck home and

cooked up some crack and began smoking. And smoked and smoked
and smoked.
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Chapter 74
This, of course, is where my life takes a serious turn for the

worse. I started to do cocaine all of the time. I tried to keep it a secret
as much as possible. But it’s hard to do when you’re known as a fun-
loving, happy guy and all of a sudden you get antsy and irritated
around everyone. I chalked up my new attitude to having lost Amy.
But after a few weeks of my becoming more and more agitated and
looking haggard, people who knew what cocaine did to you knew I
was on it. Especially my clients and especially Milo.
He didn’t say anything to me about his suspicions. He wasn’t

stupid. He just waited for the right moment to confront me about it,
and there’s no better time to do that when you can catch them red-
handed.
One night, I sat up getting high by myself. I smoked and smoked

all through the night; I watched the sun rise. I watched the beach
come to life. As the new morning wore on, I didn’t even notice my
condo door opening. The next thing I know, Milo was standing by my
sofa, looking at me. I didn’t freak out. I just bowed my head, ashamed.
He sat on the arm of the sofa and asked me how long I’ve been
on cocaine. I told him I had just started doing it when Amy left me. He
told me to get up off my ass and clean up the mess that was on my
coffee table. We had to talk, but he wasn’t going to sit there and stare
at all the bullshit I had lying on the table.
It was a mess. I had ash trays full of cigarette butts and ashes,
bent cans I had used for smoking, Brillo and glass stems, matches,
lighters, and all sorts of crack contraband lying there. I sighed and got
up and started cleaning.
In a way, I guess it felt good to get caught. I needed to stop

using the stuff. But on my own, I knew I wouldn’t even try. Milo had
become a mentor to me, and I wanted to be just like him, so when he
told me to clean up, I didn't hesitate.
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When I got it all somewhat clean, he sat down and told me

something that shocked me: he, too, did cocaine every once in a
while. Once a month or so, he and one of his girls would go on a mini
vacation for two or three days, and they'd go and do coke together. I
knew he’d disappear with his girlfriend, or his maid, but I didn’t
know he was doing coke. He told me it was his way of being in control
and not letting the drug take control, like I was letting it do to me. He
told me he had hoped to never have this conversation with me. But
after watching me begin to fall apart, he knew he had to try before I
crashed. We had come up with a plan so I could keep on working and
then, if I felt like it, I could plan myself a weekend getaway each
month to blow off some steam and do some cocaine. We even
planned it out on a magnetic calendar I had on my refrigerator, two
weeks after his getaway, I’d go on mine. That way we could help each
other with the business when the other one was on “vacation”. Before
he left, I promised him I would take a Quaalude and go to sleep. The
next day, I’d be at our business spot, as usual.
When Shelley arrived, I made her leave. She got upset but did
as I asked. I explained my plans to her and let her know that if she
wasn’t with me on this, then she could go on with her life. She said
she “loved me” and would do what I asked of her. My first request
was for her to never bring any more crack to my place. She agreed
and left me so I could sleep off the coke from the night before.
The next day, I felt refreshed, alive, and with purpose. I didn’t
have to hide anymore, especially from Milo, so I could go about my
daily business and feel good to know that I had a handle on my
situation. I met Milo at McDonald’s and we discussed the day’s
business.
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Chapter 75
One of the clients Milo had me deliver to, lived in Boca Raton. I
had been introduced a couple of weeks before. I had some trepidation
about going to this guy’s home because he freaked me out.
On our first visit, it was a normal day and a normal drive for
me. I was driving Milo so he could show me how to get to the guy’s
place. We pulled up to a gate along a road that ran along the beach.
The residences on the beach side owned their own homes, mostly,
with private beaches. Rich! Very rich!
At the gate, Milo pushed the intercom button for entry. The
gate opened and we pulled in, and up, towards a staggered level
condominium. It had four condos, and each had a pull-in garage. As
we drove up, the southernmost garage opened, and we drove inside.
We pulled alongside a Rolls-Royce and a Mercedes-Benz.
We got out of the car and walked to an elevator. Milo said there
wasn’t a stairwell, except for an emergency one. The elevator went up
to all three floors. Even the elevator was classy. Light music was
playing, and I was surrounded by mirrors.
The elevator door opened on the third floor and into the living
room. It was huge, spacious, and beautiful, loaded with antiques. You
could smell the money. When we walked inside an older, white-
haired man got up off the huge sofa and came towards us, smiling. He
said, “Hello” to Milo, and then Milo introduced me to Sheldon.
Sheldon was a very flamboyant gay man. He, in turn, introduced me
to his “houseboy”, Chico, and his “maid”, Dave.
Chico was a small, wiry Honduran dressed in skimpy shorts

and a tight shirt, with bare feet. He spoke very little English and just
smiled a lot.
Dave was a different story. This guy was a weightlifter and a

freak. He had on shorts as well, but you could tell he was hung like a
horse, or he had the front of his shorts stuffed; it was really awkward.
The dude was huge, too. Really big, he was at least, 6’5” and well over
300 pounds. He had a tiny wife beater T-shirt on, and the weirdest of
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all: a wrestling mask on his face. Sheldon said he was very eccentric
and didn’t like strangers to see his face. He had a “famous” face
Sheldon said. Milo said he’d never seen it, either.
After taking in all the craziness, we went into the living room
and sat down. Sheldon and Chico sat on the sofa side-by-side, and
Dave went into the kitchen. Milo and I grabbed a couple of chairs.
Milo told Sheldon that I’d be delivering to him from now on. Sheldon
said it wouldn’t be a problem, but he had a request…... Would I be
willing to bring him a prostitute with me every time I came? He’d give
me $500 for every girl I delivered. I immediately said it wouldn’t be a
problem. The money was well worth the trip. He said he didn’t care
what the girl looked like, just so she’d be willing to make short porno.
He’d pay her $500, too, and take them back to wherever they came
from. I agreed to the deal, and we left.
In the car, Milo laughed at my reaction to meeting these people.

He said that Dave was only “famous” for being a star in the videos. He
said that Sheldon was a real estate guru and a gay nightclub owner.
He got an ounce of coke and weed for his Honduran lover, “Chico”,
every week. All I had to do was deliver the drugs and a hooker, and I
got paid. No problem!
On my first delivery, I went up and down US ONE and found a

black girl, tricking. I picked her up and asked her if she wanted to
earn $500 doing a short Porno. Of course, she said yes, and we drove
to Boca. I delivered her and the drugs to Sheldon’s living room, got
paid, and left. This routine went on for about six months.
On my last visit to Sheldon’s, I picked up a decent-looking

white girl to take to Boca. I even got a blow job on the ride there.
Once inside, Sheldon asked me if I’d like to watch the porno being
made. With nothing else to do I said, “Sure, why not?” He had Dave
take the girl to get showered, dressed, and ready while Sheldon,
Chico, and I sat in the living room and smoked a joint.
When Dave came out with the girl, she was looking good. She
had on a see-through teddy and was smiling like she knew she was a
star. Sheldon let her do some cocaine and smoke a joint, then we all
climbed on the elevator and went to the first floor. The door opened
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up into a huge bedroom. It had a four post, king-size bed with a

mirrored ceiling, and silk ropes and scarves hanging from the corner
post of the bed. Dave took the girl to the bedroom and prepared her
for the porno scene. Sheldon took Chico and me into a huge closet-
type room, opposite the bedroom, where three director chairs and a
studio quality Panavision film recorder was sitting. It was facing a
two-way mirror into the bedroom. I went and sat in a director’s chair
on the far side of the camera, while Sheldon and Chico sat in two
chairs next to each other. Sheldon fiddled with the film machine and
the room lighting and spoke into the intercom to tell Dave he could
begin when he was ready.
I was kind of excited to watch a porno being made, but not too
excited about being in such a small area with two homosexuals,
although they were on the other side of the video machine. I kept
telling myself to hold my composure while watching the sex play out
before me. If either one of these two dudes, tried to come near me
during the event, I’d have a fight on my hands.
Dave had gone into the bathroom and changed his mask he was
wearing. The new mask was glossy black with lots of zippers all over
it. Spooky, yet in a Dominatrix-type design. He also came out wearing
nothing else. The guy was hung like a horse. He had the biggest dick
I’d ever seen on a human being before. It was freakishly huge. The
girl was looking at him like there was no way she was going to be
able to handle that much dick. Dave casually walked up to the bed
and began tying her hands to the silk ropes hanging from the
bedpost. Then he tied her feet, too, as he was walking around the bed
preparing the girl. Sheldon kept talking into the microphone, telling
Dave how to tie her up, telling the girl to try and look lustful, sexy and
to squirm when flirting. She obeyed as best she could. I could tell she
was really thinking about the size of Dave’s dick.
Dave climbed onto the bed and got up to where he could put
his dick in the girl’s face. He rubbed the head of his dick over her face
and mouth having her lick it as he worked it into a massive foot long,
beer-can thick cock. He kissed and probed his way all over her body.
He fingered her tits and began plunging fingers into her pussy until
she squirmed and moaned. Sheldon was constantly telling Dave what
to do.
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After a few minutes, Sheldon told Dave to begin fucking the girl.
She kept trying to act sexy, but I could see she was scared. I was
anxious to see how she took Dave.
Dave got between her legs and eased the head of his dick into
her. She moaned and acted like she liked it. Sheldon told her to
squirm and moan with pleasure and say “Yes, baby!” and “Give it to
me!” She did a good job until Dave started to get excited and began to
push more and more of himself into her. His rhythm began to pick up,
too. The girl began to pant and moan, and then she started to ask
Dave to go easier. That just made him push harder. The more she
complained, the harder he fucked her. In no time, he was plunging
himself into the girl, making her scream for him to please stop. That
excited him even more.
I sat watching this, thinking, “Man, they’re going to make a lot

of money off of this!” It was a good scene, but it got worse.
Sheldon told Dave to fuck her in the ass. This got the girl really
crazy. She began to squirm, buck, yell, and curse. She began to scream
about not wanting to be paid but wanting to be set free. Dave lifted
her up enough to put his dick head at her asshole and he worked it
into her. She screamed like someone was killing her. I was squirming
in my chair because I felt all her screaming would bring the police,
but Sheldon and Chico were both locked in, watching the scene
before them, no worries at all. I thought the whole thing was part of
an act, but it still bugged me.
Dave began to get rougher. He reached up and began chocking

the girl while he was ramming into her ass. She was frantic. From my
point of view, it looked like she was into it, but acting like she wasn’t.
How stupid was I? Dave was pounding himself into the girl. A dark
stain began to appear on Dave’s and the girl’s groin area. I realized it
was blood. Dave was in a frenzy. He began to punch the girl in the
face, her chest, and her ribs. She was screaming for help. I was stuck
right where I sat. My conscience told me to get up and help her, but
my senses said not to fight with these people. I just sat there with my
heart pounding in my chest. This was crazy.
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While Dave was punishing the girl, Sheldon told him he could
“Finish it!” I thought, “Good! This should over with.”
Dave was ramming into the girl’s ass as hard as he could. Blood
was everywhere. His punches had the girl’s face beat to a pulp,
leaving her moaning and crying. Dave stopped for just a second. He
reached under the pillow the girl was lying on and pulled out a huge
butcher knife. I thought “Oh shit!”
He showed it to the girl, and she really started to scream and

thrash about. Dave got even more excited and began to cut the girl.
He cut her face and she screamed. He fucked her ass even harder. He,
then, did something that made me get up out of my chair, as if I was
ready to run. He raised the knife up into the air and plunged it into
the girl’s chest. She bucked and writhed as he fucked her ass and
pounded that butcher knife into her chest. Blood was flying off the
blade, arcing all across the room. Dave kept at it until he tossed the
blade aside and rolled off the dead girl. She was dead. There was no
way she wasn’t.
Dave got up and went into the bathroom and closed the door. I
stood there looking at the carnage lying on the bed. Sheldon turned
the light on and the film recorder off. He said, “I don’t have to tell you
that you didn’t see this, right?” I said, “Man, I ain’t seen shit!” He said,
“Good!” and laughed like it never happened. I told him I had to go,
and he told Chico to see me out.
I drove to a pay phone and called Milo. When I told him what I
saw, he laughed at me. He said I had witnessed my very first “Snuff
film”, like he was proud or something. It disgusted me. I told him I
wouldn’t be going back to Sheldon’s in the future. He had to do that
himself. I also told him I’d be going on my weekend vacation starting
that day. He said for me to go ahead, but I should be back on Monday.
I went home and got a couple of ounces of coke and cooked it

up into crack, a couple ounces of weed, and headed to Daytona. I got a
motel room on the beach and got high for three days, trying to wash
my mind of what I had witnessed.
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I was no saint, by far, but I wasn’t down with brutally raping

and killing girls. I wasn’t a snitch, either so I had to get that scene
behind me. I shoved it away and got as high as I could, at least until
Sunday evening, when I decided to go back to Fort Lauderdale and
sleep off the weekend.
By Monday morning, I met Milo at McDonald’s to begin on my

workweek.
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Chapter 76
During this time in my life, I had numerous opportunities to

leave the life I was leading and try something new and somewhat
honest. I never took the chances I had to walk away from what I had
and chase something else because of the probation violations I was
facing. I knew that if I came out of the shadows, out of the life I was
living, I’d lose my anonymity and possible freedom. Besides, where
else could I exist like I was? I enjoyed being the man everyone needed
in the drug underworld. I had power like I’d never had before. So,
when the opportunities came along for me to leave it all behind and
try something that’d possibly put me on a straight path, I denied
myself the opportunity. Oh, what could have been….
One of these “opportunities” was the meeting of an old lady

who was a retired movie star. Like everyone else, Milo took me
around to introduce me to everyone he was going to have me deliver
drugs to. This lady was a trip. She lived in one of the two condo
buildings called, “The Points of America”, sitting at the edge of the
entrance to the Port Everglades in Fort Lauderdale. Cruise ships
passed by, coming, and going. These two buildings were huge. At
least 30 stories tall, and for the wealthy.
“Zelda”, as she liked to be called, lived on the 23rd floor with a

southern-facing condo. It was about noon when I was introduced to
her. Her condo was as of a very rich, very old person’s kind should be,
full of antiques and richness. A black lady answered the door in a
maid’s uniform. Milo told me a bit about her before we got there. He
said she’d talk my ear off if I just mentioned one of the old movie
posters she had hanging in glass frames on the wall. He always spent
at least an hour in her home because she was hard to get away from.
She hardly had company, so she wrung every ounce of attention out
of her visitors when she got them.
Walking into her home was like walking into an old movie
buff’s lair. Rich lair, that is. The maid let us in, and out of the room
came this white-haired, elderly lady with bright red lipstick caked on
her mouth. She flowed to Milo and gave him a hug and a kiss on the
cheek, leaving a set of red lips pasted as a gift on his face. He
introduced me and she shook my hand with a palsied, ring bejeweled
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hand. She led us to her living room, and we sat down. Milo sat next to
her on the sofa.
Milo told her that I’d be her new delivery man from then on.
She looked me over and joked that I didn’t even look old enough to
drive. We all laughed.
Looking over the place, I could see what Milo was talking about.
There must’ve been at least 20 huge movie posters hanging on her
walls. Zelda was shown in every one of them that had photos,
drawings, or some sort of image of the stars. A few had names such as
John Wayne, Humphrey Bogart, Rock Hudson and more. Movies I had
seen before.
Zelda caught me eyeing her posters, and right on cue, I asked

about her roles. She yelled for the maid to bring us some drinks as
she got ready to tell me some tales.
Milo delivered Zelda an ounce of his weed each week. She

smoked like a chimney. Upon entering her home, you instantly
smelled flowers, which were everywhere, and marijuana. On her
coffee table was an ashtray that was full of lipstick-coated joint
roaches. It had sand in the bottom of the ashtray, but you couldn’t see
the sand for all of the roaches. Zelda would smoke a joint (that she
rolled herself) to the lipstick stain and put it out, which was about
half the joint. The ashtray was expensive, too. It was the size of a hub
cap and made of crystal.
Zelda got to really talking about her fame and all of the male
movie stars she had sex with. She was unbelievable and…she could
talk. My favorite part of all her stories is how she said she’s the
reason John Wayne walked funny. She said they shared a three-day
holiday after filming, and she fucked him too hard with her
Acrobatic/tantric skills; he never walked the same again. She said he
never credited her with her help in his famous stride, too, funny.
After an hour of listening and laughing at her stories, it was

time for us to go. I asked Zelda what she did with her roaches in her
ashtray and she said she had her maid toss them out, once a week, or
when she had famous company coming over. I asked her if she’d let
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me have them. She thought it was a crazy request but had her maid
bag them up for me. I told her I was going to cut all the paper off of it
and re-smoke the dope. She thought this, too, was crazy but not to
me. I knew there was a lot of T. H. C. just clinging to the roaches.
At home, I took all of the pot out of the lipstick-coated paper

and rolled myself a joint. Yup, just as I expected…... I saved her roach-
weed to smoke with Jerry, and…. I saved all of those roaches from
Jerry and me too. More gas!
On one of my visits to Zelda she told me that she could hook me

up with her agent and help me get into acting if I wanted to. I loved
the idea, but I knew I couldn’t put my face out there due to my legal
troubles. I said I’d pass.
Next, I met a modeling agent from the Ford Modeling Company

in New York. I was walking down the beach when a classy-dressed
lady drove up next to me asking me if she could talk to me for a
minute. I said, “Sure!” and she pulled into a motel lot, driving a
Cadillac with New York plates. I thought she was trying to pick me up,
like I was a “hustler”, or prostitute, but she gave me a business card
and told me she was an agent/scout, out looking for models. She said
I was very good-looking, and I would make a great living as a model.
She told me she was leaving Fort Lauderdale in a few days and would
like for me to come to New York for a photo shoot to make me a
portfolio and some head shots…...Would I be interested? Everything
would be “expenses paid” and all I had to bring was a bag of my
personal belongings. I said I’d think on it and left.
I had fun with her card showing it to Jerry and Milo, but I knew
I’d never go. I was too scared of getting my face out in major public;
being on the run from the law, I knew I couldn’t do anything to
jeopardize my freedom.
A couple of days later, I was, once again, walking down the

beach and the same lady pulled up next to me. She waved me over to
another parking lot and got out to talk to me. I told her I thought
about her offer but couldn’t go with her to New York. She said I was
throwing away a great opportunity, and I agreed, but I stayed firm,
and she left. She said for me to call her if I ever changed my mind.
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After that, Milo called me and told me to deliver an ounce of

coke and an ounce of weed to the Broward Boat Company on 17th St.
Causeway to a certain boat captain and boat.
I found the place easy enough. The security guard let me into a
building that was absolutely huge on the outside. Yet, you’d never
know it housed 100-foot-plus yachts. Not from the outside. He
pointed towards the yacht called “The Big Easy”.
When I got to the back, I couldn’t believe how huge it was. It

was stories tall and yards long, shiny, and brand-new. I got to the
gangplank and rang an actual bell next to a sign that said to do so to
get the attention of someone on board. I only waited a couple of
seconds until a very pretty, blonde girl came and asked me if she
could help me. I told her I was here to see the captain and gave her
my name. She said they were expecting me and “Welcome aboard!”
Walking onto the yacht was amazing. I’d never stepped foot on
a boat like that before. It was a mansion on the water. It was very
rich, very classy, and very much something to dream about.
Chandeliers, marble, hardwood floors, and gold trim everywhere. I
was in awe.
She led me to a kitchen where I met two men, one a cook, and
the other, the captain. I shook hands with both, and the captain led
me away to his “office”, which was up some stairs and turned out to
be the pilot’s room. I explained my business and we chatted for a few
minutes while he opened up a small safe and paid me for the coke
and the pot. He then surprised me and asked me if I’d like to take a
ride on the yacht. “Hell yeah,” I said.
He said he had to take the boat down the Intercostal Waterway

to a boat yard to have a marble bar-top put in before he took the
yacht back to New York to its owners.
He called the girl, Lacy, to come and show me around and to tell
his two other deck hands to ready the boat for the short trip. Lacy
took me all over the boat, showing me everything. She told me they
were one deckhand short and thought I was the “new guy”. I told her
I wasn’t, and she made the comment of, “too bad!”
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I sat on the rear deck as we went down the Intercostal. It was

an awesome time watching this huge boat cruise the waterway.
Especially seeing everyone onshore and on the roadways watching us
float by. When we got to the boat yard, the captain asked me if I’d be
interested in becoming a deckhand. He said Lacy asked him to ask
me, but I refused. He said that after he took the boat to its owners,
that they were sailing to Europe soon thereafter. The job consisted of
keeping the boat clean and acting as a waiter when the owners or
visitors were on board. The pay was $500 a week, cash, plus all
expenses whenever we were in port somewhere. I’d have my own
room on board, as well as food. Knowing I was a wanted man, I
refused yet another, golden opportunity at a career choice. My life of
crime had handcuffs on me, and I wasn't even arrested. Well, it was
what it was. I chose this path.
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Chapter 77
Back on the beach, crack was the drug that was earning the
money. I still sold a lot of cocaine and weed, but everywhere I turned
was a crackhead wanting a rock. I wanted to get into this business,
but I knew I had to rein in my own monthly habit before I even tried
to get into that market. I talked to Milo about it, and he told me to
leave it alone. I still wanted to get some of that beach money that I
knew was going into the pockets of the blacks that lived west on the
mainland. I also knew I couldn’t just cook up some crack from the
coke I sold because I’d lose money. Crack was made with additives to
“blow-up” or “fatten” the dope into a bigger quantity for more money.
I had to figure that out.
One day, while leaving the pizza place, I noticed a motel located
right behind the pizza places parking lot. There were a couple of
prostitutes I knew hanging out in front of the place. Not having much
to do for a few hours, I picked up “T” and took her to a different motel
for some sex.
When we were finished, and I was fixing to leave her with the
room and some cash, I asked her if she was going to buy some crack
with that money I gave her. She said she was. I offered to give her a
ride because I wanted to buy some crack, too. I explained to her my
idea of buying a load of crack to sell on the beach, and T put me up on
a great business opportunity. She told me to take her to Miami if I
wanted a very good deal on crack. “No problem!” I said.
She asked if I had a gun, and I said I did. She told me we’d be
going into a very bad part of Miami, and I’d need to have a gun out
and ready. Not one to pass up excitement, I got my gun from out
under the driver seat of the car and drove her to a place called “The
Bab” …. or Ali Baba Street, in Opa Locka.
The Bab was a one-way in, one way out street, used primarily
for crack and drug sales. It was run like a business, but you better not
come there fucking off, or you’d end up dead and gone. T informed
me of all of this during our drive. What made me continue on was the
amount and the size of the crack rock she said they sold. I saw lots
and lots of dollars in my pocket, so I kept on going.
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When we pulled onto the street, I had my gun out and in plain
view. There I was, driving a pearl white Corvette and looking like I
had money, and I was turning onto an all-black, all drug-related
street that was a dead end. I was going to die in a gunfight, or I was
going to buy a shit load of crack. One of those two things were going
to happen.
Black dudes were out everywhere. I saw guns everywhere, too.

I’m not too proud to say I was scared shitless. T pointed me down the
road to an apartment building. I pulled in and was immediately
surrounded by black guys, brandishing guns, and pill bottles full of
crack. I had my windows pulled up tight and my door locked. T got
out of the car and said she’d be right back. The black guys stayed
around my car as she was let into an apartment. Some of the guys
tried to sell me crack, but I stayed silent.
T came outside with a dude who climbed into the passenger

seat and asked me what I wanted. I told him I had $500. He told me to
sit tight. T climbed in when he got out. She showed me the rock she
bought, and, yes, they were huge compared to the size I’d seen
coming from Fort Lauderdale hoods.
The dude came back out and switched places with T. He had a
bag full of crack. Huge pieces. I gave him my money and he gave me a
piece of paper with his number on it. His name was Ricky, and I was
to call him whenever I was in need. I thanked him, and T and I left.
I couldn’t believe my luck. T said I could take each rock and cut
them into quarters and sell them for $20 each on the beach. Not
wanting to be a crack salesman walking all over the beach, I had to
find a way to sell it without having to be out there all day. T suggested
that I talk to the woman who ran the Poinsettia Motel where I picked
T up at. She said the woman smoked crack, her sons smoked crack,
and she rented out rooms for crack. Perfect! So, when we got back to
Fort Lauderdale, I took T to the Poinsettia Motel, and we went inside
to find the manager.
We found her in her office getting high. T introduced me to her

as “Tom”. She was agitated and high as hell, but I got to talk to her
about business. We talked, and I came up with the plan to give her
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enough rocks for a two-day period. She’d sell part for me, and in
return I’d give her some for herself. We struck a deal, and I went back
to my condo to see what amount of crack I was given for my $500.
I dumped the baggy onto the dining room table. I took a count
and saw I had 150 nickel rocks. Not too bad for my money. I then
took a razor blade and cut each rock into quarters, creating 600, $20
rocks, for a total of $12,000 worth of crack. Good deal! I counted out
150 rocks and re-bagged them and put the rest up for later. I went
back to the Poinsettia.
The manager’s name was Karen. I got her, and we went into the
office. I gave her the 150 rocks and told her to give me two grand in
two days. After she calculated how much she'd have for herself, she
agreed. I gave her my beeper number and told her to call me as soon
as she had my money or needed some more rocks. I went on about
my daily routines.
By noon, two days later, Karen was beeping me. I went home
and got the rest of my crack and met her at the motel. She had my
money and was smiling. She said she never had her motel sell as
many rooms as she did now, so it was a hit. I gave her 150 more
rocks, collected my two-grand, and I left for Opa Locka. Time to re-up.
For a couple of weeks, I made a huge chunk of money from my

new enterprise. I also made myself known. Karen, in all her high,
drug-addled glory would tell people where the drugs were coming
from. Lots of people already knew “Tom and Jerry”, were drug
pushers, but crack helped to explode our names, especially mine. It
got me very paranoid to be cruising the beach and have someone flag
me down, asking me for crack. I’d get pissed off and cuss out the
individual, telling them to go by the motel and never, ever stop me for
any of that shit again.
It was no one’s fault but my own, but you couldn’t tell me that. I
was too big for my own britches and thought I was the kingpin, or
something to that effect.
I was earning thousands a week just from this business, so I

had to move into overdrive just to keep both “jobs” on the right track.
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Milo knew about the Poinsettia Motel and didn’t like it, but who
was I to listen to him? I thought I knew more than he did now, and he
was just jealous because I was clearing an extra 10 grand a week with
my idea. But being relaxed and complacent will put blinders on you
every time.
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Chapter 78
One day, I got a call from Karen. She was in jail for possession
and intent to sell, would I please bond her out? Sigh!! So, yes, I paid
her $10,000 bond in cash.
I picked her up at the Fort Lauderdale Jail on Broward

Boulevard, and she told me what had happened.
At about midnight, “The Raiders”, a special drug task force, put

together to combat drug dealers, especially the drug crack houses
and businesses, had crashed into the Poinsettia and arrested
everyone in the place. 32 people were jailed, even Karen’s two young,
crack-addicted sons, who I also bonded out. Someone had snitched
on the motel’s enterprise. Karen said she might know who it was but
wasn’t sure. I didn’t care. I was pissed off. The cops got about 50
rocks and a grand in cash. That was what I was upset about.
I waited about a week to crank it back up again. The motel was

shut down for 72 hours by the city, so I had to await its reopening to
restock it anyway.
Karen and I had racked our brains trying to figure out how to
protect the drugs and the money in case there was a next time. And
there wasn’t any doubt to me that there would be a next time. I knew
the cops would watch this place, so I had to keep my distance. But
first, I had to come up with a way to try to beat the cops.
In the office of the motel was an old, wooden switchboard that

used to be used for phone calls back in the 1950s (it was an old
motel). Next to the switchboard was a huge, lead pipe coming out of
the floor right up next to the desk that held the switchboard. Sticking
out of the pipe was a tangle of wires. I asked Karen where the pipe
led to and she said, “The basement!” I went down to the basement to
see what it looked like.
The pipe was about 6 inches wide, and it went right into the
ground. After thinking on it, I decided to try and open up the pipe and
take all the wire out.
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I went to Home Depot and bought a saw, some pipe cutting

blades, and an extension cord.
In the basement, I cut a 4” x 4” square hole in the side of the

pipe and removed the piece. I then took some of the wire cutters and
cut out all of the wire. It took a lot of work, but I got all of the wire out
of the pipe.
I ran upstairs and dropped a balled-up piece of paper down the

hole of the pipe next to the switch board. I ran back down to the
basement, and sure enough, there was a piece of paper. Ha!
Next, I got some clear epoxy to put the 4” x 4” piece of pipe

back into place. I looked around the basement and found an old
bread-bag tie and positioned it into the epoxy and left just a tiny
piece of it sticking out. Once I had it all in place, I pulled on the piece
of wire and the epoxy, and the plate came away from the pipe. I
thought I was a genius. I put it all back together and cleaned up the
mess. I also dirtied up the pipe, the cut section, and the area around
the pipe, so it’d look untouched. I stepped back and inspected my
handiwork. Not too bad! This would work!
I went back upstairs to show Karen where to put the drugs,

money, and any cocaine contraband that she wanted to drop down
the pipe. She took a book and an old plastic flowerpot filled with
plastic flowers and placed them on top of the pipe to cover the hole.
We were good to go.
Things went back to normal for a bit. Karen sold crack, and I
kept her well supplied. I kept my ass away from the motel and had
her meet me at various places on the beach to exchange money for
more dope. The cops would cruise by the motel all of the time, and
every now and then they’d make an arrest. But it wasn’t raided for at
least another month. This time, I fell, too.
It was on a Saturday afternoon. I was stoned, and in a mood to

just to walk on the beach. The whole beach was packed. I went to a
few of the shops on the strip to say hello to some of my friends and
customers. I also did small deliveries to some of the shop workers.
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One of the T-shirt shop employees asked me if I had any rocks

on me, but I didn’t. I told him I’d get him a couple and return in a few
minutes. The shop was just around the corner from the motel.
At the motel, I had Karen give me two rocks, and I tossed them
into my shirt pocket. Karen asked me if I’d watch the front desk while
she went to do a quick hit or two of crack, and I said, “Sure!” Big
mistake!!
Next to the front desk was a small lobby with a few chairs and a
TV. The TV was on, and a John Wayne movie was showing. I sat down,
fired up a joint, and watched the movie until Karen came back.
Within seconds, a dude dressed in worn out clothing, looking

like a bum, came into the motel and went to the desk. I told him the
manager was in the bathroom and would be out in a few minutes.
The bum got angry and started talking loud and cursing. I told him to
calm down or I’d have to chase his ass off. He said he only wanted to
buy a damned rock, and that Karen was never at the desk when he
came in. He always had to wait. I got frustrated at smelling and
hearing him, so I sold him one of the rocks I had in my shirt pocket. I
stuck the $20 bill he gave me in the same pocket.
About 30 minutes went by and I was still watching John Wayne.

I was so high I lost track of time. The bum came back into the motel
and went to the desk again. Once again, he got upset at not seeing
Karen, so I sold him the other rock I had in my shirt pocket. He left.
The movie went off after about 10 more minutes. I went to

Karen’s office and found her high as a kite on crack. I got two more
rocks from her and told her about the bum. She said she never allows
the bum to come inside the motel because he stinks. I explained that I
sold him two rocks, so he’d probably be back for more. She said,
“Okay.”
I left out the front door and headed right down the side street. I
was going back to TCBY’s Yogurt Shop and then to the T-shirt shop.
As I was walking down the street, I was almost to the rear of Burger
King when a Fort Lauderdale police car pulled up next to me. The cop
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got out of the car and drew his revolver, telling me to get up against
the car.
My first instincts were to run, but I knew I wouldn’t get too far.
I cussed at the cop, trying to cause a scene, but he was steadily aiming
the gun at me, demanding I put my hands on his car. I did what he
said.
He went straight to my shirt pocket, pulling out the two 20s

and the rocks. He cuffed me and put me in the backseat, telling me I
was being arrested for two counts of delivery and sales, plus two
counts of possession.
He drove the car a few feet into the back-parking lot, behind
Burger King, and you should have seen my astonishment. The walled-
in parking lot was full of cops and various uniforms. The “bum”
walked over to the car with a police badge hanging on a chain around
his neck. He asked the police officer if he found the two $20 bills I had
stuffed into my shirt pocket, and the cop gave them to him. He looked
at me and said, “You must be Tom! Pleasure doing business with you,
man. You want to give up your supplier and walk away from this?” I
said, “Fuck you, pig!” He laughed and told the officer driving the car
to take me away. As he walked away from me, he told another plain-
clothes cop, “Let’s go down to this motel!” I laid my head against the
backseat and thought of Milo telling me not to mess with crack
selling. I should’ve listened.
After I was booked, I called Milo and he got William to come

bond me out. All Milo could do was laugh. He also threw in a bunch of,
“I told you so’s!”
Well, this was a lesson learned. I had to toss out all of my items
of identification, because I wasn’t about to go to court for those drug
charges. Milo had William get me a new birth certificate and Social
Security card, and I got myself a new identity. Once I had a new ID, I
got myself a newspaper and looked for a place away from the beach
to rent so I could get off the beach for a while.
I had bonded out Karen, again, but this time she was smart
enough to have stashed the money and drugs in the lead-pipe. I got
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all of it back after the motel was re-opened in three days. I gave
Karen a portion of the rocks and some money and told her I was
going into hiding for a bit. She understood but knew that her party
was about over.
I packed up enough clothes to last me a week and put together

a set of instructions for William should anything happen to me. I was
going to take a week and get high on the couple of ounces of rocks I
had left. I told Milo and he was all for it. Vacation would do me some
good.
I had found a nice two-bedroom, two bath home in Sunrise,

West of Fort Lauderdale. It had a two-car garage and a pool with a
Jacuzzi. Nice! I paid the rent for two months and moved in. It was
fully furnished, so all I had to do was live in it.
As soon as I got my bags unpacked I began smoking crack…... in

full earnest.
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Chapter 79
During my stay in Sunrise, I kept up my delivery business with

Milo. After I got a week’s worth of being cracked out of my system, I
was good to go for a while. My only concern was driving around in
the Vette. Everyone knew “Tom” drove a Pearl White 69 Stingray, so I
decided to buy a new car.
While cruising east on Sunrise Blvd. I passed “The Auto Toy

Store”. A premier car dealership that was owned by one of my clients,
Raul.
Raul owned both “The Toy Auto Store” and “Alpine Jaguar” that
was located beside the Toy Store. His mom and dad owned them until
they both died in a car wreck. He was about 32 years old and had
more money than he had brains, but he was a very reliable client, so I
called him about a car I saw on the showroom floor of the Toy Store.
A brand-new 1987 Monte Carlo Super Sport., jet black, all leather
interior and loaded.
Raul met me at his store, and we came to an agreement on the

price. I called up William and told him I’d need his help to buy it. He
said it’d be no problem.
I gave Raul an ounce of coke for his help, and $32,000 to

William to get the car paid for free and clear. By 5 p.m. I was driving
my new car.
I put my Vette under a tarp at the Portofino to let it rest. No one

but Jerry, Milo, and William knew I had a new car. Raul, also, of
course.
For about three months, all went well. I did my deliveries, took
myself a few days each month to go somewhere and get high, and
then came back to work. My only problem was that I was becoming
addicted to coke. I’d do my binges, but I’d still try to smoke
throughout the week. I’d do my deliveries until I felt no one would
call me, and then I’d go to my condo and cook up an eight-ball to
smoke. Sometimes, I’d have enough self-control to stop when the
eight-ball was over, but mostly, I’d smoke on.
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I’d try to balance it and keep it out of Milo and Jerry’s sight; the
cocaine will control you if you don’t have enough self-control. I
didn’t! I began to smoke crack on a daily basis.
On a scheduled “Vacation”, I had put aside for the month

(sometime in 1987 around July or August) I loaded up my Monte
Carlo for the trip. I decide to go to Daytona. I got myself a couple of
ounces of coke, an ounce of pot, and took off. When I got to Daytona,
it was lightly raining. I found myself a hotel room and a hooker and
got busy.
For days, I partied by myself, or with a prostitute or two. It

rained nonstop, so I had a pretty boring time in the motel room. I
packed up my gear and I decided to get back to Fort Lauderdale. It
was about 2 a.m. when I left.
When I got back to Fort Lauderdale by 5 a.m., I drove to a

friend’s motel on the beach. I wanted to come down some off the coke
buzz, so I parked in a spot in front of the motel and woke him up. I
asked him to keep an eye on my car as I walked the beach. He said he
would. I rolled a couple of joints, locked up my car, leaving the driver
side window cracked about 2 inches. I put the weed and about an
ounce of coke, into the glove box and walked toward A-1-A.
I walked north on the beach and smoked a joint. Then I went to

Ho Jo’s and ate breakfast while watching the sun come up. On my
walk, back down the beach I smoked another joint. I was ready to go
home and go to sleep.
As I turned the corner, on the street my car was on, I saw a

couple of cop cars around my car. I kept walking. I went to a pay
phone and called Milo. I told him what was going on and he said for
me to go see what the situation was. I told him I had weed and coke in
the car. He sighed! He told me to go and see what the cops wanted
and if I got arrested, he'd have William get me out.
So, I walked up on the scene of two cop cars and an undercover

cop car. My friend came out to me and told me that he heard a noise
and looked outside to see what was what. He said he saw a hustler
leaning into my car. He had broken out the driver’s window and was
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tearing out my stereo system. He called the cops. An undercover cop

came first and arrested the kid for breaking into my car. Then the cop
went into the car, searching for the owner’s registration. My friend
told the cop that all he knew me by was “Tom”. When I had walked
up, I saw my car stereo, ashtray, and the drugs I had stashed in the
glove box sitting on the hood of the car.
The undercover cop walked up to me and asked me if I was the

owner of the car. I said, “Yes!” He said he arrested a kid for breaking
in and taking my stereo out of my car. I saw the kid sitting in one of
the police cars. The cop asked me about the coke and weed. I said I
knew nothing of either. He looked at me and sighed. He told me he
knew the kid as a gay hustler and a crack addict. That when he pulled
up and got the kid out of my car, that the kid had a screwdriver, a
crack stem, and a lighter, and my stereo in his possession. The cop
then said first that he opened the glove box to look for the owner’s
registration when my friend could only produce the name of “Tom”
as the owner. In the glove box, he found the cocaine and pot. Not to
mention the many roaches in the ashtray. He read me my rights and
placed me under arrest. I protested vehemently, but the cop wasn’t
going for it. He said he knew the kid would’ve grabbed the coke and
weed instead of the stereo if he’d known it was in the glove box. He
was stealing the stereo to go buy crack.
So, I went to jail and my car was impounded. William came and
bonded me out again. I tossed yet another set of identification
materials into the trash. Milo had William help me get a whole new ID
with the threat of, “This is the last time!”
I had to let my Monte Carlo go. The cops wanted it for their
undercover operations, and since I was a wanted man, I couldn’t do
anything about it. Bye $32,000, not to forget the $10,000 to a
bondsman.
I went home and smoked cocaine for about a week straight.
My whole world was falling apart due to my smoking crack. I

started missing deliveries and running out of cocaine a lot sooner
than usual. I was purchasing kilos from Milo on a weekly basis. I was
smoking them, too. He knew I was falling apart, and he tried to talk to
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me, but I wasn’t trying to listen. The cocaine had me by the balls and
no one could tell me anything.
By the end of 1987 I was cracked out of my mind and almost

broke. Milo tried and tried to help me. So, did Jerry. They talked to me
and talked to me, but it was useless. I wanted cocaine and no one was
going to stop me from having it.
Milo ended up firing me from doing any more deliveries to his

clients. He was afraid I’d shorten the amount of coke I delivered or
keep the cash. He wasn’t wrong, either. I asked Milo to buy my Vette.
He gave me a Kilo for it.
When I smoked it up, I asked him to buy my condo. He gave me

3 kilos for that. I smoked, and I smoked, and I smoked until they were
gone, too. I had lost about 20 pounds and I let myself fall into
dishevelment and confusion. I was a mess.
Milo had given me a month to try and get my shit together, but
I was lost. I ended up packing up a couple of bags of clothes, and
personal items, and left the condo…on foot.
Leaving behind everything was no big deal for Tommy Kaos.

What sucked was having to face everyone he knew—especially those
who knew the well-to-do Tom. Well, now they met another Tommy.
With life, so crazy and Kaotic…... there’s no telling where he’ll end up
next.
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Chapter 80
For weeks, I hung out at various motels all over Fort

Lauderdale. I left with very little cash and some jewelry, but cocaine
got most of that. Now, I was living off of “friends” and their
hospitality, at least, until I ran that dry, too.
I awoke on a motel room floor of someone’s room, not really

knowing where the hell I was. I remember sitting on a bus bench, the
night before, and someone asking me to come to their place. I was
starving, broke, and feeling very suicidal, so I was thankful for the
help.
As my senses came back to me, I knew I had to get a grip, or I’d

either be in prison or dead. I looked around the motel room and saw
how a wall lamp was hanging by a loose screw. I thought, “that needs
fixing.” I glanced around some more and there were all sorts of
despair. For a minute, I thought I was at the Poinsettia, but even that
place wasn't up to par with this hole.
I got up and took a leak and saw that I was the guest of one of
my former prostitutes. She was cuddled up in the bed with some guy,
so I tried to stay quiet. After I was finished in the bathroom, I sat
down in a chair and tried to contemplate my reality. A) I was broke,
B) I was addicted to cocaine, C) I was a wanted felon, and D) I had
nowhere to live. I was fucked, but I had to do something. I always do.
I stole a cigarette from a pack lying on the table and left the
room. I stepped out into the madness. This place was full of people,
either lying by the empty swimming pool or just sitting on a lounge
chair by their room doors. Lots of people I knew, too. mostly street
hustlers and prostitutes.
I was in a motel called the “Lauderdale Terrace”. It was located

directly behind “The Candy Store”. The place was a dive, but it looked
about half full. It was three floors tall with two wings: one on the
backside of “Birch Road” and the other on the side street with The
Candy Store. The inside area was shaped like a box, with a wall
running the back length of the place. It was its own little party city.
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I saw someone I knew, and I walked over to him. “Little John”

was a fag-hustler who bought a lot of drugs off of me. I asked him if
he stayed here, and he told me he crashed here every now and then. I
asked him if he knew who owned the place and he pointed me to an
upstairs apartment and told me to ask for a guy called, “The Fatman”.
I went up and knocked on the door of the room, and sure

enough, a fat man opened it. I introduced myself as Tom and said I
was looking for work. He asked me what kind of work I was looking
for and I told him I was good at fixing things, and I’d trade him work
for room. He said he could use a maintenance man and invited me
into his apartment to talk.
In his room, I stayed alert and cautious because I felt this

“Fatman” character may be a homo. I’d hate to have to beat his ass,
but I’d put that aside as a possibility, as well as robbing him.
He became no-nonsense in discussing a job opportunity with

me. I relaxed a little. He told me the place was in great despair
because he just fired his last maintenance man for stealing from him.
I assured him I just needed a place to live, and I’d be grateful for the
chance to prove myself. He didn’t ask me about any past crimes, so I
didn’t tell him. He not only gave me a room, but he also gave me five
bucks an hour for a 40-hour work week. $200 cash, plus the room.
Good deal!
He had me grab a tool belt and follow him. He led me to an

empty room and showed me a broken toilet. I saw what was wrong
with it and told him the parts I’d need to fix it. He led me to a
maintenance room that had various supplies in it and told me to fix
the toilet, “if you can.” If not, I was to come and see him. I had the
toilet fixed in 10 minutes. Back at The Fatman’s apartment he gave
me the keys to the corner room, with a kitchenette, and a list of the
rooms with damages. I went to my room, first.
At least it wasn’t destroyed. My room had the usual pieces of

furniture, minus the TV and air conditioner. I could look out of my
kitchenette window and look up and down Birch Road, as well as my
former condo building. I was only a block away. Sigh! I sat in the
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kitchen chair and felt great despair. I was at rock bottom, due to my
crack habit, but my mind kept saying its usual mantra, “Fuck it!”
I asked The Fatman to loan me a few dollars and he gave me 20

bucks, “to come out of my first paycheck.” He said. Not a problem. I
took the city bus up to Las Olas Boulevard to a local supermarket and
bought some Ramen noodles, mac & cheese, and tuna. I was starving.
Back at the motel, I ate and remembered that my birthday had

just passed. I turned 20. Big deal, right?! So, what!
I stepped out of my room to take look at my temporary home. It

was a huge change for me, but I’d seen worse. Once again, I sighed,
tucked in my pride, and went to work.
During my first few days, I had met almost everyone at the

motel. It turned out to be an awesome party place. People came and
went at all hours and there was a party in a couple of the rooms on a
daily basis. The Fatman didn’t care, as long as he got paid and no cops
were called. I was invited to almost each and every party.
Cocaine and weed ruled the party life at the Terrace.

Crackheads were plentiful. So were prostitutes. I ended up sleeping
with a few of them, at no cost. Just to let them smoke their dope up in
my room, with me, of course. And whenever they were in the mood, I
got laid. I couldn’t beat that deal. Besides I was a “good customer
when I was rich”, and never treated them wrong, so I was embraced
as a “friend” by everyone. They all knew what it was like to be down
on your luck, so I felt at home among them.
I ended up fixing everything that was broken at the motel. The

Fatman liked having me around. He ended up incorporating my
fighting skills as well. Whenever someone got too rowdy, he’d call me
and another regular resident, Tony, to show the party pooper the
door. Each time, we got us a few extra bucks in our pockets, so I
looked forward to kicking some ass.
I ended up spending close to a year and a half at this place. It

was such a cool place to live, that I never even thought of leaving it. A
lot of craziness went on while I was there.
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Chapter 81
Although winter was closing in, you couldn’t tell it in Fort

Lauderdale. The sun was blazing on a daily basis and the beach
stayed busy. I loved it.
I ended up meeting a girl and falling in love. Her name was

Trisha, and she was a blonde goddess. I met her at “Sweet Things”, an
arcade/ice cream shop on A-1-A. She was playing a videogame, and I
was eating cheese fries while watching her shake her ass while
working the controls of Ms. Pac-Man. She had an ugly girl with her,
and she told Trisha I was staring at her ass. Trisha came over and
boldly grabbed a cheese covered fry and asked me if I was staring at
her ass. I said, “yes I was. What are you going to do about it?” She told
me that I owed her an ice cream cone for it, and I bought her one.
She was 15 years old and living at the Covenant House. Her
mom was an alcoholic and would abuse her, so she ran away and
ended up on the beach. I asked her if she worked the streets and she
got mad at me for asking that question. What was I to think? Every
girl in “The Cuv” turned tricks. I apologized and asked her if she’d like
to hang out. She did.
After a week of hanging out together, every day, I asked her to

move in with me. We went to the Cuv and got her clothes, and she
became my girlfriend. We lived in the Terrace, happily, until I got
back on crack. Six months flew by.
I met a dude, called Vance, at the motel. He was very

flamboyant and funny, but what interested me was his profession. He
was a gigolo. He had numerous older women coming to pick him up,
for days at a time, and he’d come back to the Terrace with lots of
cash, jewelry, and clothes that he’d sell to buy crack with. We met
because people knew that Milo bought jewelry, and everyone knew I
had a line to Milo. So, I’d call Milo and trade off the jewelry for cash or
coke. Vance and I became good friends.
Vance had a regular girlfriend, named Dawn. She was a girl I

had met, and slept with, a year before when I met Gary, the dude I
robbed the nightclub owner with. Dawn was skinnier and looked
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worn out due to her non-stop crack addiction. Vance liked her
because she had a car and would do anything he told her to.
Every time Vance came back with money, he’d come get me
and we’d go somewhere to buy crack. I got Trisha hooked on it, too.
She said she had never smoked it before, but I didn’t believe her. All
four of us; Vance, Dawn, Trisha, and I, would sit in either his room or
mine and we’d smoke until it was all gone. Afterwards he’d call up
one of his females and go get some more money.
There were all sorts of characters at the Terrace. Little John

was a male prostitute. He was 22 years old but looked like he was 12.
He made a ton of money off the fags, but he too, smoked crack.
There was Angie and Tony. They were a couple, but they both
prostituted themselves out for crack money, too. They’d fight with
each other, almost weekly, but would be right back with each other
within hours of the fight.
There was Stoner. He was young and hung out on the beach
playing, “Blanket-Bingo”. Blanket-Bingo was a thief’s job. He’d sit on
the beach wall and watch families lay out their blankets and try to
hide their car keys, wallets, purses, etc., under their blankets or
towels. Once the family went into the ocean, Stoner would casually
walk up to the blanket and wrapped it all up and walk away with it.
He’d go get someone at the Terrace to take him to the mall and would
buy all sorts of stuff with the cash and credit cards.
There was Mike. He’d walk up and down the beach, all day,
selling weed and bits of crack to tourists.
And then there was Josie. He was a huge, muscular black and
Spanish dude who worked a couple of prostitutes. He, too, smoked
crack.
The beach had its share of weirdos, too. Lots of them.
Throughout my stay at the Terrace, I would go through all sorts

of changes. I’d quit crack, but then smoke crack, I’d quit again. Only to
start back up again as soon as I had any sort of setback in my daily
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doings. Angela stood with me for about six months of it. The cocaine
became, “too much for her to put up with.” she cried.
I had acquired a day job for the weekends. The Fatman owned
a small nightclub in Key West called, “The Strand”, on Duval Street.
His assistant manager was stealing from him, so he gave me “Power
of Attorney” and a rental car and sent me down to collect the
weekends books and money. I ended up taking my best friend, Jerry,
on the first weekend.
The Fatman’s manager was a weak individual. I met him once

at the Terrace. He was very soft-spoken and nice, so there was no
doubt in my mind that he wasn’t handling the club as it should be.
What was really going on was the dude was ripping off the place,
while trying to act like the owner of the club, giving away free drinks,
free entry, and loading his apartment with booze.
Jerry and I got there around noon. I couldn’t get into the club
until the manager showed up, so we walked around Duval Street and
looked at the sights.
When I finally found the manager, he was not in a good mood. I

didn’t care. I gave him The Fatman’s letter and the power of attorney
and made him call The Fatman. The Fatman told him I had all access
to everything for Friday and Saturday, and I was to be given all
receipts and logs, plus the weekends take on Sunday. Jerry and I hung
out and had a blast. On Sunday, we drove back to Fort Lauderdale.
After squaring things up with The Fatman, one of my neighbors

told me that Trisha had spent some time with one of the residents. I
saw blood red. I went straight up to my room and questioned Trisha
about it. She said she didn’t do anything inappropriate, but I could
see it in her eyes. But…. Me being gullible and wanting love, I believed
her.
The following weekend went about the same way. Except for
this time, I took Gabe with me. Gabe was an Italian/Puerto Rican kid
that lived in the building, too. He smoked a ton of pot with me and
was like Jerry…... A chick magnet. Although I didn’t cheat on Trisha, I
did do a lot of flirting.
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When I came back home, this time I guess Trisha had had
enough of me, so she moved in with the dude from the weekend
before. I went to The Fatman, and he threw them both out. I went on
a week-long crack binge, after that.

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Chapter 83
Everyone felt bad for me, due to Trisha’s infidelity. A couple of

strippers came to my place and had a personal party with just me.
There were numerous girls who wanted to get with me, but I was in
no mood for another girlfriend, so soon. I just wanted sex. Which was
okay with most of them.
By spring break, of 1987, I was back in full tilt of crack

smoking. I started hanging out with dudes who robbed on a daily
basis. I learned all sorts of robbery tricks without using a weapon. My
mouth was my weapon. I’d trick people into following me into a nice
hotel under the guise of selling them weed, or coke. I’d have them get
on an elevator with me and give me the money for whatever they
were buying. I’d take them up to the top floor and have them hold the
elevator while I went to “the dudes” room to get the drugs. I’d just go
directly to the stairwell and leave with their money. Sometimes, to
never see them again. And if I did…... so what?
Hanging out with Vance was the funniest time. The dude also
had a gift for gab. He could smile in your face and make you think he
was your long-time best friend, until he’d robbed you or cheated you
out of your money.
That “gift” is what got him into many homes of unsuspecting

women, and sometimes, gay men. When he’d find someone, he’d need
help robbing, he’d call me as backup.
I received a call from him, one sunny day, telling me to go up to

A-1-A to a certain building and wait around on the sidewalk for him
to call me. I went and waited about 15 minutes. I heard Vance call out
my name and I looked up to see him standing on the balcony, a few
floors up. He threw down a black bag and told me to take it home.
He’d be there shortly. I got the bag out of the bushes and fast stepped
it to the Terrace.
In my room, I inspected the bag and its contents. The bag was
an old-fashioned medical bag of very fine quality: leather, gold-plated
clasps, and hasps, very expensive. Inside the bag was 2 kilos of
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cocaine and a few grand in cash, plus some jewelry. I couldn’t believe
our luck.
Vance arrived about 20 minutes later. He said he was walking

down the beach, when two fags began whistling at him. They called
for him to come party with them, so Vance, always on the lookout for
possible scam went to see what they were up to. Once inside the
condo he saw that they were both heavily drunk. He helped them get
even drunker.
He said the whole episode took about 30 minutes from start to

finish. One fag went into the bathroom, so Vance walked up behind
the remaining fag and acted as if he were going to hug him from
behind. Vance choked him out. The other fag came out of the
bathroom and Vance pounced on him, beating him up and choking
him out, too. He then tied them up and searched the place. He called
me to come get the goods while he cleaned up any fingerprints. He
said the homos were sleeping soundly when he left.
We opened up the Kilo and began a month-long binge. We

supplied the motel residents with coke for cash, until it was all gone.
After that, Vance and Dawn stayed with me in my room. When

Vance was away with his older women, it was up to me to satisfy
Dawn. Vance didn’t care at all, or so he said. Dawn was a whore for
whoever would have her, but she was madly in love with Vance. She
just fucked me because she wanted sex and I was there. I didn’t care. I
knew Dawn, so she was comfortable to me. She was just hard to
handle while she was on crack.
Near the end of Vance and I hanging out together, he and Dawn
had a huge falling out.
Vance had been M.I.A. for over a week. He had left with one of
his women and said he’d be back in a few hours. He ended up going to
the Bahamas with the lady and didn’t think to tell us. Dawn was livid.
When Vance finally walked in the door, Dawn attacked him. It took
everything I had in strength to keep her away from him. Vance
explained himself and pulled five grand out of his pocket.
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“Let’s get high!” he said. That calmed her down a bit.

All three of us piled into Dawn’s little blue Toyota and went to a
dope hole in Pompano that Vance knew about. We bought a handful
of crack and began the drive back. I was in the backseat with Vance
driving and Dawn in the passenger seat. Vance liked to smoke off of a
can with ashes, so it was my job to fix him up a hit while he was
driving. I got the can set up and passed it forward to Dawn. She was
to hold it for him as he drove, so he could take a hit.
Instead of giving the can to Vance, Dawn put a hit on the ashes
and smoked it herself. I smoked my hit on the glass stem. Vance
didn’t say nothing to Dawn because he was trying to make it up to
her. He quietly waited for her to finish her hit and put one on the can
for him.
After Dawn finished her hit she put another piece of crack on
the can. Instead of handing it to Vance she began to smoke it, too.
Vance asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”, but you could see
she was beaming from the first hit and wasn’t paying Vance any
attention. Vance reached over to take the can from her, but she
turned it away from him. Vance told her to stop smoking the hit and
put another one on the can for him. She wasn’t listening.
Before I could blink, Vance backhanded Dawn. What made the

situation crazy was that Dawn had the can up to her mouth, taking a
hit. Vance smashed the can into her mouth. Dawn and Vance became
two wildcats, clawing and punching each other. Vance had to let go of
the steering wheel, and I, immediately, flung myself over the driver
seat to control the car. I steered the car to the side of the highway, but
I couldn’t control it speed. We were all over the place.
Finally, Dawn opened her door and jumped out of the car
rolling down an embankment. Vance got back into the driver seat and
got him and I back onto the highway. As we drove, we didn’t say a
word. I loaded a hit on my stem and gave it to Vance.
Back at the motel, Vance and I smoked for about an hour. Dawn
came into the room looking beat all to hell. She had a black eye and a
red ring around her mouth where the can had smashed into her face.
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She didn’t say a word. She walked up to Vance and hugged him and
said she was sorry. He gave her a hit, on his newly made can, and all
was well, again. Crazy motherfuckers!!!
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Chapter 84
Vance and Dawn ended up disappearing on me. Neither one

showed up at the motel for about a month, after Vance had another
fight with her. I put all of Vance’s belongings, mostly clothes, into the
manager’s office until he came to collect them.
Another individual who had an impact on the beach was a

character by the name of Josie. He’d stay on and off at the Terrace
working prostitutes. He considered himself the pimp, but he liked to
smoke crack and beat his girls, so he didn’t have much of a business
sense. What I liked about him was that he had been to prison and
liked to fight. I had my share of tangles on the beach and considered
it, “fun” to fight.
Josie was, also, a strong-armed robber. He was a muscular dude

and did most of his robberies without a weapon. He scammed
tourists, sold crack, or whatever he could do to keep himself going.
Near the end of my stay at the Terrace, I had a run-in with

Josie. He was in the passenger seat of a rented Lincoln, being driven
by a college boy from Ohio State. Josie had the kid pull over and pick
me up. Josie wanted some cocaine, instead of crack, and he knew I
had a connection with Milo. He wanted to buy some coke for the Ohio
boy. The dude didn’t want crack. I knew Josie’s plan from that
moment. He’d get to dude some cocaine, get him on it, then push him
onto the crack. I contacted Milo and got them an eight-ball.
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Chapter 85
A few days later, I got arrested. It was about 6 a.m. and I was
wide awake from an all-nighter of smoking crack with one of the
motel’s residents, tired, needing some sleep, and fresh air, I decided
to go out of the motel and sit on the steps in front of the place and
smoke a joint to help me come down off the crack. Sitting on the step,
I could look right up Birch Road. I saw a police car sitting there about
six blocks up the road, half on, half off of the sidewalk. Not thinking
that the cop could see me smoking a joint, I kept on smoking. After a
few puffs the cop car began to come my way. I put the joint out and
put it in my cigarette pack for later.
The cop pulled up to me and asked me what I was doing. I told

him I worked at the motel and was just enjoying a smoke, having a lit
cigarette after putting out the joint. The cop asked to pat me down,
but I refused. I was on private property, and I knew my rights, so I got
up to go inside. The cop grabbed me, threw me onto his car, and
cuffed me. I began raising hell.
What the fuck are you doing?”, I asked him. He told me to calm
down before he arrested me for all sorts of shit. He wanted to search
the steps where I was sitting because he said he saw me smoking a
joint. I knew he had me, then. He stood me up against the cop car and
searched around the steps and in the bushes but didn’t find anything.
He came back to me and began emptying my pockets. All I had on me
were my pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a ring of room keys. He
opened my cigarette pack and pulled out the half joint. Busted! He
smiled and placed me in the back of the car while reading me my
rights. Possession of marijuana. Sigh!
I ended up giving him a bogus name, and not the one I had an
ID for. I didn’t know if I would be able to get Milo to help me get
another set of identification, or not, so I just popped any old name off
the top of my head.
By the time I was booked and fingerprinted it was time for

magistrate court. When the judge called my fake name, I explained to
him that the arrest was on private property and that the officer did
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all sorts of wrong to me. The judge was pissed off that the cop wasted
his time over half of a joint and gave me time served. Ha!
While I was in jail and being moved from the holding tank to a
bigger pod with more people, we passed other pods that was also full
of people. There was a long line of us being herded, probably 30 to 40
men. As I passed the pod, the Ohio boy came rushing up to the thick
glass of a pod and began waving frantically at me. I eased over to the
door to see what he wanted.
He said Josie had robbed someone while they were out and
about, and when the cops pulled them over later on, Josie jumped out
and ran away. The Ohio boy begged me to get Josie to come forward
and help him get out. He was being charged with armed robbery and
possession of drugs. I told him if I saw Josie, I’d tell him.
Later that day, after being released and going back to the
Terrace, I did see Josie. He said he and the Ohio boy robbed a fag, but
he didn’t give a shit about the kid. “tough shit!” was his reply.
The next time I saw Josie he was hanging out on the beach. I
stopped to talk to him, just to see what he was up to. He told me he
was following someone, and pointed out a site you don’t too often see
on the beach… A man wearing a three-piece suit. Josie said the dude
has been going in and out of T-shirt shops and various stores carrying
a leather briefcase. What made him stand out, even more, was that
the briefcase had a chain attached to it and the chain was attached to
the man’s wrist. We both knew that there had to be something
expensive in that case.
Now, that my interest was piqued I asked him what he was

going to do. He said he was still thinking on it when I came up. We
followed for him about 30 minutes he, finally walked across A-1-A, to
the beach side, and walked up to a station wagon that was parked
along the beach wall. He opened the back, rear door, un-cuffed the
briefcase, and placed it in the back of the car. After he locked it up, he
walked away, heading back up the beach. UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!!
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Josie and I walked over to the car and looked inside to see the
case just sitting there. Josie tried to open the rear door, but it was
locked. I tried the other car doors, but they were all locked, too. Josie
told me to look out for the cops as he trotted across the street to a
motel.
He came back with a brick he had stolen from a flower bed and
threw it through the rear window. All sorts of Kaos ensued after that.
When the brick shattered the window a piercing siren went off
inside the car. Josie reached inside, grabbed the case, and off we ran.
The beach was packed with people because it was a beautiful

day, so everybody turned to see where the alarm was coming from.
Even the man who owned the car looked, too. He was only a block up
the beach. I was watching him, as well as the cops, so I saw him turn
and start to run back towards us, yelling for us to stop.
We ran toward Birch Road, behind the motels and condos. We

could hear cop cars revving all over the place, trying to block us in.
Josie and I got behind the motel and hid behind a dumpster. Josie
tossed the briefcase into the dumpster, and I covered it up with trash.
He told me we needed to split up. That, if anything happened, and he
got arrested, to come get the bag, see what was in it and if it was
valuable…. to sell it and bond him out. I said, “No problem.”, and we
ran in separate directions.
I made it back to the Terrace, safely, but it was maddening. The

cops were looking for a black guy and a white guy with long hair. Ha!
The black guy was easy. There were none on the beach, but Josie. The
long-haired white guy, well, they were everywhere. I was safe.
About three hours later, I got a call from Josie. He was arrested
for breaking and entering, grand theft. He told me the case contained
thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry and I was to get it, sell some,
and bond him out. I said I would. I waited till it got dark before I went
back to the dumpster to retrieve the case.
When I got the case back to my place I broke it open. Sure

enough, it was loaded with all sorts of bagged up jewelry, watches,
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rings, bracelets, and chains. Jackpot! The first thing I did was contact
Milo to see if he was interested. He was.
Between Milo and The Fatman, I sold about half of the jewelry
and collected close to 10 grand in cash. I then called the bail
bondsman and to see about Josie’s release. The bondsman called me
back informing me that Josie had “no bond”, due to probation
violation. He was stuck. I called Milo and gave him the rest of the
jewelry, minus some that I was keeping for myself, for some cocaine. I
spent the rest of the night getting high with a couple of girls who
lived in the motel.
The next day, Josie called, and I told him what the bondsman
had said. Josie told me to go ahead and put some money into his
account, and that’s what I did. I put $1000 on his account and that
was the last I seen of him, until 1994.
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Chapter 86
Another character I met, and hung out with around this time,
was “California Matt”. Cali for short. He was cruising one day and
pulled up to me looking for some weed. Jerry wasn’t around at the
moment, so I got in his rental car and led him to a weed-hole off of
Sistrunk Avenue, off the beach, inland.
Cali, as I called him, was a blonde-haired, surfer-type dude

from Los Angeles. He was traveling all over the US for his job. He was
a salesman for an auto parts directory, selling advertising space in a
directory, similar to the Yellow Pages. He went everywhere by rental
car and stayed in hotels. He turned out to be a very cool individual.
After I got him some weed, we rode up and down A-1-A

cruising for girls. It wasn’t long before I had him wanting to smoke
crack. The dude was a party-animal, too. He had an expense account
and made a nice percentage on his sales, so I saw an opportunity to
try and get some of that cash, at first. After about a week of non-stop
partying with him, I had changed my mind about trying to swindle, or
rob him. He was too good a dude.
A couple of episodes with him went like this…... First, we both

got strung out on crack. He had a credit card with an unlimited
supply of cash on it. We’d go to the bank, and he’d go in and come out
with a couple of grand in cash. Off we went to a dope hole, and I’d buy
us a baggie full of rocks. Every time we got low, we’d get more cash
and go right back to it.
He was fascinated by the beach maggots and hustlers and

would have me tell him about the different people I’d point out to
him. Plus, I’d tell him of the scams the hustlers and the maggots did to
survive.
One day, while driving along A-1-A, he saw a help wanted sign
in the window of a Subway sub shop. He found a parking space and
ran inside. When he came out he had two huge subs and a job
application. I asked him what was up with the application, and he
said he was going to get a job there for about a month. Thinking this
was totally crazy I asked him, “why?” He said he wanted to do a scam,
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too. He had been a manager at Subway, in Los Angeles, and knew

everything about the Subway operation. He was going to get the job,
work there for few days to see who was who and what was what, and
then, he and I would rob the place. Ha! I liked this guy’s style.
What was so good about his plan was that his sales job was
based on commission, and he could take his sweet time selling ad
spots. He had no schedule to follow. All he had to do was call into his
company once, or twice, a week with his ad orders, “or lack of” and
that was it.
In two days’, time, he was hired…. As the night shift assistant

manager. His credentials were that good.
I didn’t think he’d be able to pull it off, but he did. He had

forced himself to stay off the crack during his work hours, but after
that he’d call me and we’d go to get a baggie full, and party with a
couple of girls until about three or four hours before his next shift.
He’d go to his motel room and crash until he had to be at work.
After the third day, he told me he was ready to rob the place.
His shift was from 3 p.m. to midnight. The manager worked the day
shift and Cali was the only head honcho, at night. The workers liked
him due to his happy, outgoing personality, so they accepted his
leadership quickly. When the manager left, Cali’s shift began. No one
questioned Cali’s decision to have a sub sale from the home office
memo he had (which he created) selling two for one subs. He had me
drop off a huge poster to place in the window to draw customers in.
By 5 p.m. the place was packed with people wanting their two-for-
one subs.
Around 11 p.m., I showed up. He had me there to help clean up

and to get a couple of foot-long subs for our exit.
When midnight arrived, and the place was to shut down, Cali
and his few coworkers exited the store. In view of the workers, Cali
locked the store and, as he was told, slid the store keys under the
door, into the store. (The manager made him do this for some reason.
I never did ask why, and I didn’t care I was just curious as to how we
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were going to rob the place. I thought he might have all of the cash on
him, but he didn’t.)
We got back to the room with our subs, he filled me in on his

game plan.
“No problem!”, I said. We ate, then went and got us some crack.
Around 4 a.m. it was time to strike the Subway. We retrieved

the items we needed and off we went.
That early in the morning, we had to be careful moving around

on the beach. It was usually dead, with no one out and about, but a
few homeless people. We drove to the small parking lot behind a
strip of businesses and walked to the front of the Subway.
Once there, we went to work retreating the keys. I had brought

along a wire clothes hanger. I unwound the hanger and pushed the
hook end underneath the door. I hooked the keys and Cali got us
inside. We went directly to the manager’s office.
In the corner, bolted into the floor was a round safe door. It had
an opening in the top designed for envelopes of cash to be put
through. It had jagged teeth with steel on both sides of the slot to try
to stop someone from trying to dig the envelopes out of the safe, but I
had just the perfect tool. A pair of hemostats about 8 inches long.
My first task was to put some tape onto the end of the clothes
hanger and angle it inside the jagged slot, to stick to an envelope.
Once the envelope was pulled up to the slot, I grabbed the envelope
with the hemostats and carefully work the cash-filled envelope out.
After about 30 minutes. I had a fat pile of envelopes lying on the floor.
When I got them all we locked the place up and left.
Back at the motel room, we started counting out our loot. Over
$3000 in cash. Not bad for an evening of sub sandwiches.
I asked Cali what he was going to do about the job, and he said
he’d go into work like nothing happened and see what the fallout
would be. I thought he was crazy to go back, but he said he had to, in
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order for him to not be a suspect. I asked him about the fake “two-for-
one,” sale he had initiated, and he said he’d just say he was trying to
generate some more revenue for the company. They had zero
fingerprints and no evidence of his wrongdoing, so all they could do
was fire him. Which was exactly what happened.
He was called to work about 10 a.m. and was told his entire
shift was under investigation and fired.
Cali said, “okay!” And we smoked dope all day long, laughing
about the whole thing.
After a few days went by, we both got arrested. We went to our
usual weed spot and got caught up in a sting operation. Cali was so
excited about it; I couldn’t help but laugh. He had never been arrested
before, so this was an “awesome experience” for him. For me, it
meant, another alias name and wasted hours in jail. We were
released at the same time, with the same two years’ probation. I
asked him about that being a problem for him, but he laughed it off.
He said he’d have his father…. A corporate lawyer call Fort
Lauderdale and get it all reduced to a fine. “Must be nice”, I thought.
After a few more weeks, Cali had to head to Miami. He barely

sold any ads in Fort Lauderdale but said he had had the best time in
his life. He was a good dude and I wished him well.
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Chapter 87
A lot of stuff has happened to me, with me, and because of me,
at the Terrace. At this point, it’s the beginning of 1987 I’m a part of
the fabric that calls itself, “life” on Fort Lauderdale Beach. I’m still
known as, “Tom” to everyone, but I’m not the Tom that I was just a
few months before. I’m not loaded with cash, nor driving a nice car,
and living in a condo. I’m dirt poor, living in a crack infested motel
full of beach maggots and prostitutes. I sort of considered myself, “at
home” with everyone. Like a chameleon, I blended in.
At the Terrace, I fixed every little broken thing, I knew every

inch of the place. Anyone could call on me, at a moment’s notice, to
come fix something, or to just party. I’d even run across the
intercostal, for people, to get them crack.
On the beach, it was the same thing. Although I wasn’t

supplying everyone with drugs anymore, I still had “friends” who
worked at the shops and gave me stuff to go get them drugs.
I still called on Milo at least twice a week, to deliver some coke

for me to resell at an inflated price, to make myself a few extra bucks.
He was still pissed at me, but he was a businessman and money was
money, and if I had it to give to him, he’d come get it. He was
constantly at me to “leave that shit alone”, but I was too much in love
with crack to stop it now.
Yes, I could leave it alone for a week, maybe a month if I pushed

myself, but it kept calling me. I love the initial rush and the chase was
always there, pulling me in. I was helpless, but I just didn’t care. The
euphoria it gave me was what I wanted, every day, every time I took a
hit. That feeling of “AHHHH!!!! All is well in my world!”, was what I
was constantly after.
My stay at the Terrace was coming to an end, soon, but not

before I had more fun. Since Trisha was gone, I was bedding every
available girl I was attracted to. Sometimes, even girls that I knew I
shouldn’t mess with.
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One such girl was Angie. She lived in a motel with her steady
boyfriend Tony. Tony was like me, a fighter. He fought all of the time.
He and I didn’t like each other, though. And she had made a comment
that I was, “fine and cute” to one of the other girls once. He got irate
about it. Angie wasn’t that pretty, but she had a smoking body. Every
guy at the Terrace knew not to mess with Angie, because not only
would Tony fight, but he liked to play with knives. He scared people.
He never said anything negative to me about the comments she
made. But he wasn’t friendly to me, either.
Well, Tony fucked up! He had got drunk on the beach and
pulled his knife on someone in front of a cop. Off to jail he went. He
was on probation, too, so that would cost him a “no bond-hold” and a
future prison sentence. It, also, cost him Angie. She wasn’t the type of
girl to just sit around and wait, so she came to me. I consoled her,
gladly!
Angie stayed with me only a couple days because she was a

mess, mentally. She was an alcoholic, and I can’t stand a drunk, from
my past experiences. The sex was great, her body was delicious, and
she worked, but I couldn’t deal with the whole getting drunk and
whining bit. I had her move on.
Next, was Jen. She lived with a guy everyone called, “Tattoo”.
He did a lot of crappy ass tattoos, on anyone, for $20 so he could buy
some crack. Jen was a condo timeshares saleswoman who rode a pink
beach cruiser bicycle up and down the beach while trying to hustle
clients for sales of the condo. She, also, prostituted herself as a
sideline income. I had used her services once or twice in the past. Just
like Angie, she wasn’t that pretty, but she had a good-looking body,
too. She showed it off all over the beach while constantly wearing a
pink polka dot bikini. She sold a lot of timeshares, as well as herself!
Like Tony, Tattoo went to jail for something stupid, and for
some odd reason Jen came to me. I let her stay with me for about a
week and, of course, we slept together. Jen fell in love, but I wasn’t
with it. As soon as she told me she loved me, I booted her out.
Everyone said I was crazy for that, because even though she
was a part-time prostitute, Jen was a very good girl. She gave all her
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money to her man and just wanted to be loved. But…. I wasn’t with it.
Trisha killed my heart and I, in turn killed Jen’s. Sorry Jen!
Next in line was a girl and her girlfriend. Ann was a stripper
who was gay, but her girlfriend, J. J. was bisexual. One day, I got so
drunk that I passed out in a lawn chair by the pool. I woke up in bed
with J. J. and Ann, not knowing how the hell I got there. J. J. said she
saw me by the pool, and it started to rain. Her and Ann got me inside,
cleaned me up, and decided to have some fun.
Well, now that I was awake, I said, “what’s up?” We ended up

having “fun”, time and again. At least until J. J. and I had sex without
Ann there. Ann got irate and her and J. J. moved away. It was fun
while it lasted.
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Chapter 88
Out of the blue, The Fatman called me to his office and asked
me if I’d be willing to go to Boston, Massachusetts to do some
renovation work on house he owned. With nothing better to do, I
said, “sure!” He got me a rental car, gave me directions, and $1000,
cash.
There was a dude who was staying at the hotel called Terry. He
heard about my trip and asked me if he could go, too.
I told him I wasn’t feeding him, and I was going there to work.
He said he had enough money to take care of himself, but what he
really wanted was to go to Wildwood, New Jersey to see his folks. I
thought, “why not?”
It was the end of February, warm in sunny south Florida. I had

packed some clothes for the trip, but I wasn’t thinking properly, nor
did anyone tell me to pack anything differently. When I pulled into
The Fatman’s driveway it was snowing. UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!!!!!
I had Terry get out of the car and go knock on the door. An
elderly black lady answered it and gave Terry some directions to a
store where I could buy some warmer clothes. All I had packed was
one pair of jeans and no sweaters, jackets, or coats.
I got myself a good coat and another pair of jeans, I was ready
for the snow. Being from North Carolina, I already knew about how
cold it could be, but Boston was freezing. At the Fatman’s house, the
maid gave me directions to where Terry and I would be staying while
we worked. The Fatman had a couple of apartment buildings close to
his house, so we got to stay in one of the apartments. From having
lived in the Fort Lauderdale Terrace., I figured as to what state of
disrepair the place would be in, and I was right. It had five other
apartments, also. The one Terry and I went to bed and had no
electricity, so we froze the first night. We put down blankets in the
kitchen and used a kerosene space heater to keep us warm. The next
day, the Fatman had our electricity turned on.
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For the first week, Terry was very helpful. The weeks after
that…...he disappeared. I had to do most of the renovation all by
myself.
I had a little fun while in Boston. I got to go and see the real
“Cheers Bar”, and I cruised around Boston University. At night, I’d
cruise the downtown area and pick up a prostitute from the many
young college girls who worked at night to pay for college. All in all, I
liked Boston, but I was very ready to go back to Florida.
On the day I was to leave, Terry showed up. He had said he met
a fat girl at a bar and she “kidnapped him”. He said he had laid up in
bed the whole couple of weeks and apologized for him not helping
me. “No problem!”, I said. I had already paid him for the week he
worked, so I owed him nothing.
On the drive south, he wanted me to stop in Jersey so he could

see his folks. We veered off into Wildwood, New Jersey, that evening.
His family had a nice house, in a nice neighborhood. His mom

was ecstatic at seeing him, but his dad was stand-offish. His one-year
younger sister was very pretty and happy to see us both. She flirted
with me unmercifully and I ate it up. We stayed the night there, with
me sleeping on the sofa. His sister snuck into the living room, and we
had a quiet, fun time together. The next day, she was wanting to leave
with us, but her folks weren’t having any of that. I wouldn’t have
minded, but…. She bowed down to her parent’s demands, and off we
went.
We got to North Carolina, and I did a surprise visit with my

family, too. My first stop was at grandma’s house. It’s like time stood
still while I was gone. With the exception of a couple of things…...
Uncle Rob had moved out, and my cousins Dan and Larry had gone to
live with their dad. Grandma was all alone. I gave her a ride to the
grocery store, and she filled me in on everyone and everything. I
asked Grandma if she’d let me take her out to dinner and she
approved. I told her I was going to ask Mom if she wanted to go too.
I ended up finding Mom and Uncle Rob at the same old

apartment I had moved out of and had Uncle Jimmy rent when I
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moved out and moved in with Cheryl. I couldn’t believe they were all
living in that rundown, one-bedroom apartment, but there they were.
Uncle Jimmy was out on the road, but Mom, Uncle Rob and Mom’s
boyfriend were sitting in the living room drinking. I told Mom that if
she were sober by that evening, that I’d take her and Grandma out to
eat, but it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t know why I was trying to be
nice to her, but I gave it a shot. I then went and seen a lot of my old
friends.
That evening, I went and picked up Grandma and went to get

Mom. As I expected, Mom was drunker and meaner. Grandma got
upset and refused to go out to eat after that, so I got us some
Kentucky Fried Chicken and we ate at Grandma’s house.
The next morning, Terry and I got back on the road and headed
south. I was ready for some sunshine and good drugs. The Fatman
owed me a couple of grand and I was ready to party.
When I pulled into the parking lot of the Terrace, I knew

something was very, very wrong. First of all, there weren’t any
vehicles in the parking lot. Secondly, there weren’t any curtains on
any of the windows. I thought, “what the fuck is going on here?”
Terry and I got out and went to the entrance only to see a
notice from the Fort Lauderdale zoning commission, saying that the
building was “condemned and due for demolition.” UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!!!!!
I got back in the car and was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe

what I was seeing, but most of all, what the fuck happened in the last
30 days that I was away? The Fatman didn’t say a word to me about
none of this. I had a lot of questions for his fat ass. Especially, “Where
are my belongings?”
With no idea of where to go, or what to do, we just sat there in

the car. I didn’t know what to do. I had called The Fatman a couple
days before to let him know we’d be back today, so he knows I’m
here. WOW! Total confusion!
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After about an hour of sitting there, pissed off, The Fatman

showed up in his caddy. He was laughing his ass off at the looks I was
giving him, but I wasn’t in any kind of laughing mood. He immediately
apologized to me, telling me he was just having fun with me, because
he knew how serious I was all of the time. He explained how the city
of Fort Lauderdale bought the Terrace for five times the actual value
because they were putting a southbound, A-1-A Road. Right through
his property. He couldn’t resist the offer. I asked where my stuff was
at, and he told me to follow him.
We drove up the beach to an area via the local high school

called, “Stranahan High School.” It was in a semi-black neighborhood.
We pulled up to a house and we all got out. The Fatman led us inside
and told me that I’d be living in this house, while I continued my job
as his “handyman.” I was still confused!
After he sold the hotel, he took the money and bought a bunch
of cheap, foreclosed homes in a three-block area of the school. There
were eight homes at first. My job was to live in each home and
refurbish it into an apartment house, turning each bedroom and the
garage (if it had one) into mini motel rooms. My rent was still free,
and I still earned a weekly paycheck, just like I did at the Terrace. He
got everything that was movable out of the hotel and put it into
storage, every lamp, table, chair, bed, lightbulb, curtain, dresser, etc.,
etc. Anything I needed to refurbish and create new bedrooms that I
could go get.
He had put all of my belongings in the master bedroom of this

three-bedroom home. He gave me the key and my pay for my Boston
work and drove me around to look at other houses. I had a lot of
work to do.
When he finally left me at the house I was to stay in, I got into
the rental car he had gotten me and went to a pay phone. I called, “T”
and had her meet me at a local motel for some sex, and to buy some
drugs, of course. I hadn’t seen her in a while, so we had some catching
up to do.
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Chapter 89
Throughout the spring and summer of 1987, I worked on the

houses. I’d stay in one of the houses and work on it until it was
rentable. I’d then, move to another house and refurbish it until it was
done. Having everything from the Terrace was a blessing for The
Fatman because he didn’t have to buy any furniture. All he had to pay
for was paint, caulking, and anything else I needed to fix these places
up.
Once the homes were complete, he’d run an ad in the local

newspaper, The Sun Sentinel, and rent out the rooms on a weekly, or
monthly, basis just like a motel. The homes paid for themselves in the
long run. The Fatman knew his business.
When I got bored with doing the work, I’d go and buy some
crack and smoke, smoke, smoke. I was getting back into my non-stop
binging, and it was slowing me way down. Not to mention, I was
having to go back and forth to some of the other houses I had
finished, because some tenant would break something, and I had to
fix it. I was getting tired of it all, so I ended up quitting and going back
to the beach.
The Fatman hated for me to quit on him, but I wasn’t hearing it.
I had to go. He gave me a few grand for my parting and I went to the
beach to find a place to live for a while.
I stayed with Sandy at her hotel for about a week. She was all
right to stop in and see, every now and then, but not to live with. I
ended up at a motel called, “The Raymonde”.
The Raymonde was a fleabag dive, but it was the cheapest spot-
on Lauderdale beach. For $20 a day, or $90 a week, you had a roof
over your head. The owner was an old drunk lady who didn’t give a
shit what you did as long as you didn’t tear the place up, or have the
cops come. I just wanted a place to get high in peace. I was put in the
rear most room of the place, so I was content…... Until I couldn’t find
some easily accessible crack. Then…. I got upset. Usually, there’s a
dealer or two, to buy from on the beach. But at this time, there were
only a few smokers, here and there, and they’d get a couple of rocks
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just to break them down and resell them. I decided to do the same
thing. I got a dude to give me a ride to Miami.
I ended up buying a couple hundred dollars’ worth of crack and

I set up shop at the Raymonde. It wasn’t long before the beach people
knew, “Tom” was back in business.
In two weeks’, time, I was doing as I wanted. I had plenty of

dope, plenty of cash, and was back on top of my little world, or so I
thought. People came to my room, at all hours, just to buy some crack
from me. Mine was bigger and better than anything coming across
the Intercostal. The only problem I had with that was I could barely
leave my room. The landlady didn’t give a shit about the traffic. She
was just as drunk as I was high.
I got into a routine that let me finally get outside. I had Jerry
doing the marijuana trade and I had the crack locked down. Milo still
brought me cocaine as I needed it, but I wasn’t ready to try and sell
for him again just yet.
Part of my routine was to get high and go up on the beach to

watch the wet t-shirt contest at the Candy Store. Spring Break 1988
was booming, and bikinis were everywhere. Instead of going inside
the Candy Store, I’d climb up on the red brick wall that surrounded
the outside stage by the pool and get a rear-view shot of all the girls.
Whenever that was over I’d roam up and down the beach
selling crack and stopping in business bathrooms to do a hit. I was
staying high and enjoying the beach at the same time.
Word got to Jerry and me that a couple of black dudes were on

the beach selling crack. At first, I didn’t care, but then a prostitute told
me the two dudes were talking about setting up a permanent spot to
sell from. I wasn’t having any of that, so I went in search of a weapon.
I ended up finding a beat up, old 38 pistol with three bullets left
in it. I gave the dude a couple pieces a crack for it, so I felt I got a good
deal. I also felt invincible now that I had a weapon.
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Later that day, I got in touch with Jerry and told him about the
two black guys selling crack on the beach. We felt that the beach
business was ours, so no one had the right to come in and set up shop
without at least getting our permission. Jerry wanted to know what I
was going to do, and I told him I was going to chase them off “our”
beach. Jerry wasn’t with it at first, but he gave in to me when I
assured him I wasn’t going to shoot anyone. I was just going to scare
them away.
Jerry and I had put out the word that we were looking to talk to
the two dudes who was selling crack. That afternoon a maggot came
to my door and told me the dudes were hanging out by their car just
north of the Pavilion and drug wall. Jerry and I locked up the room
and we went to the beach.
Jerry has never been in any kind of trouble in his life. I wasn’t
about to drag him to jail with me if that were to happen, so I had him
walk on the beach side as I walked on the sidewalk towards the
dude’s car.
It was two skinny black guys in a primered Chevy. They were

sitting on the trunk of the car surrounded by a couple of beach girls. I
got parallel with them on the sidewalk and pulled out the gun.
I yelled at them, saying, “This is my beach and if you want to

live, you’ll get off of it!” I took aim at them.
The girls saw me and took off. The blacks saw me aiming at
them and they too, took off. They jumped into their car and peeled
out of their parking space. Not wanting them to come back any time
soon, I shot two bullets into the trunk of their car. They hauled ass
away, and so did I.
I ran home and took the gun and hid it. I put it in an old potato
chip bag and put it in some bushes next to the motel. Not knowing if
anyone would tell the cops it was me or not, I took all of my crack,
weed, and paraphernalia out of my room, too.
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Jerry showed up long enough for me to tell him to go home and

don’t worry about it. And... If he saw the two black dudes again, to let
me know. He laughed at me and left.
About two weeks went by before the black dudes came back.
Except, this time, I didn’t have to chase them away. The cops did.
It was a beautiful spring break day, and I was posted up on the

red brick wall of the Candy Store, watching the bikini contest. From
the north, I heard police sirens. Looking up the beach all I could see
were cars and people, jam-packed everywhere. It was bumper-to-
bumper traffic with revelers all over the sidewalks and streets.
The sirens moved to the back streets, so I focused my attention

on the girls in front of me. In a few seconds, all hell broke loose.
On a side road, beside the Candy Store, the primered Chevy

came screeching around the corner with three police cars, and a
couple of motorcycle cops, giving chase. The Chevy sped up the street
and crashed into the traffic on A-1-A. As they crashed into cars, the
passenger tossed out a brown paper bag hitting me in the leg. I
dropped off the wall, grabbed the bag and went towards my room.
The Chevy was still slamming into cars, trying to get away. When I got
to another corner, I took off running for home.
At my room, I dumped the bag out onto the bed and couldn’t
believe my luck. The bag had about 100 crack rocks, some mediocre
weed and about two grand in cash. Awesome, come up. I called up a
prostitute and hid out for few days. Talk about good fortune. Ha!
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Chapter 90
It wasn’t long before I smoked up every penny I had. The crack

had me by the balls and there was no way I was quitting anytime
soon. I had no money, very little hope, and the 38 pistol with one
bullet in it. I figured that that one bullet would be my savior. When I
was finished with being hopeless, I could always blow my brains out.
Instead, I decided to go on a robbery spree until I crashed back

into jail or died. Either one, didn’t matter to me. I felt hopeless and
helpless when it came to the call of crack.
I ended up robbing everyone I could think of…. Everyone, but

Jerry and Milo.
I got so bad that as soon as I’d walk onto the beach, people that
knew me would go in the opposite direction, for fear I’d try to,
“borrow” money, or rob them. I robbed every prostitute (male and
female), every little store around, and any fag stupid enough to walk
up next to me thinking I was on a stroll.
I have the fags, I was robbing, drive me to a dope hole before

I’d let them go. I even made them go to an ATM machine and I’d take
whatever money they got out.
It lasted about six months without any arrest. When I did get
caught it was for sleeping on a bus bench with my crack pipe in my
hand, out in the open. I was arrested for possession of cocaine
paraphernalia and released on two years’ probation, under another
alias name. Again!
My gun was still stashed in the same spot I had left it in, so I got
it and robbed the first fag that came along. Crack called!
By the time the new year came around, I was skinnier, more
cracked out, and tired. Nowhere to live, sleep, bathe, or just relax. I
was a mess. No one trusted me, no one cared, so, why should I? I
wanted to put the gun in my mouth and pull the trigger, but I didn’t
have the guts for it. I put the gun into a tossed-out burger bag and put
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it in some bushes. I tossed out my crack pipe and sat on the bus
bench, next to the drug wall, and awaited a police officer to come by.
I didn’t have to wait long. It was about 2 a.m. and the beach was
dead. It was cold outside, and I was tired. A black female cop pulled
up to me and asked me why I was waving at her. I told her I was
wanted under numerous names and was wanting to go to jail. She
took down my real name and placed me in the back of her car, un-
cuffed. I explained that I was a crack addict and needed help. She told
me not to worry, that she’d put it in her report that I turned myself in,
seeking help for my addiction. I was carted off to jail a happy and
content man. I was ever so ready for a long rest.
Being booked and fingerprinted had me very tired. I was ready

for some long, well-deserved sleep. After being shuffled all over the
jail, I was finally put into a quad where I could fall asleep. I found
myself an empty space on the floor and crashed out. I was content.
I only had to wait about two months before it was sent off to
prison. The judge gave me some leniency since I turned myself in, so I
didn’t get that much time. 3 1/2 years would be the most I would do.
A year and a day, the least. With all my probation violations, I thought
I’d end up with at least 10 years to do. Everything was to run
concurrently, so I only had to do about a year. I was sent to Florida
City, Florida to Dade Correctional Institution.
“Florida City”, as it was called, was one of the sweetest prisons

to be in back then. I spent about a month at the main unit until my
custody was lowered and I was sent to the Florida City’s work camp. I
spent most of my time, either working or working out. I was given
minimum custody and a job at the Department of Transportation
compound washing city vehicles. Sweet job!
For the rest of that year, through January of 1990, I did my time
at the Florida City Work Camp. The only thing that made any of this
outstanding, or even worth remembering, was a woman I met at the
DOT yard.
As I said, I was given a very sweet job as a car detailer. I was to

wash every vehicle that was driven to my area. I got to do all of this
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while being shirtless. There was only one female worker at the DOT
yard, but she was old and stayed in the garage office, doing her
secretarial duties. Just outside of the huge area I worked at was a
small building that housed most of the bosses and supervisors that
ran the whole operation. These people would drive their company
cars to my area to be cleaned. That’s where the women were hiding,
in that small building.
During my first week, I washed all sorts of vehicles; cars,

trucks, vans, dump trucks, semis, etc. Then, Pam drove up. She was
driving a white DOT station wagon. When she got out of the car, she
got out with a smile. I was standing there without my shirt on, and
very fit. She had on tight blue jeans, and a flowering silk shirt, with no
bra on, and nipples standing at attention. I smiled and introduced
myself.
I ended up talking to her for over an hour, as I cleaned her car.

She was a “Contracts Engineer”, putting together contracts for any
route work or bridge repair. She was 36 years old, single, and very
flirty. I, of course, flirted right back. When I was done cleaning her car
she asked me if I was allowed to eat anything other than the prison
bagged lunch. I said, “Of course!” And she said she’d bring me back
something to eat. That started a relationship that lasted past my
prison release.
During this time, she’d bring me lunch every day. Sometimes,

when the DOT yard was empty, we’d drive her car to the rear of the
lot where a huge 30-foot wall was built to separate the compound
from the turnpike. We’d pull her car just behind the wall and climb
into the backseat of the car and have sex.
Also, during this time, I’d leave the DOT yard on foot and cross
the highway into a neighborhood, called Richmond Heights. It was an
all-black neighborhood, full of drug dealers. I went to get some
marijuana to take back to the work camp to sell. In a nutshell, I was
escaping and returning. The locals didn’t like that a white man was
running through their neighborhoods in prison blues, but money
talks.
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I’d run a couple of blocks to a small store where most drug

dealers hung out to sell their goods. They’d see me coming and holler
for the weed man. They’d tell me I was a “crazy fucker” to be doing
what I was doing, but I didn’t care. It was exciting to me. I never got
caught.
Pam and I were doing well. I was fixing to be released, so we

were thinking about my future. She wanted me to move in with her
and get a job at the same DOT yard, since they hired convicts. I didn’t
want to work at the yard. I wanted to do my own thing and I didn’t
have any idea as to what “my own thing” was.
In December of 1989 I was transferred to work release. I was

sent to a work release center in West Hollywood, Florida. It pissed
me off about being sent there, since I only had 30 days or so left until
I was released. It made no sense to me. But we worked with it, and I
spent 30 days cleaning up the grounds of the center.
On January 4th, 1990, I was released from prison. I was excited,

but nervous, because I had no idea what my future held. Pam drove
me to a local DMV, and I got a driver’s license with my real name. We
then drove to Miami, to Pam’s home. She showered me with clothing
and everything I’d need. She fed me, had sex with me, and gave me a
bag full of pot. She “had a friend”, she said. I had a good day. The very
next morning got even better.
She was supposed to drive me to Fort Lauderdale to visit Jerry,

Milo, and a few other friends, but she had other plans.
After I got out of the shower and dressed, Pam told me she was
going to let me drive myself to Fort Lauderdale. I thought, “Cool!” She
told me she had a couple of surprises for me and led me to the living
room. She picked up an envelope up off the coffee table and handed it
to me. I opened it up to find a car key and the title to a Mazda pickup
truck in my name. I was ecstatic. She led me to the front door, and we
went outside.
Her home was a duplex townhouse in a gated community, so

the parking lot was full. I immediately, seen the blue truck sitting
next to her car. I took the key, opened the door, and sat inside my
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new/used truck. I cranked it up, played with the radio and all of the
other gadgets, like a kid with a new toy.
I got out of the truck, scooped up Pam in my arms and kissed

her. She told me to come back inside because she wasn’t through yet.
Wow!
Back inside the house, she went to her purse and produced yet
another envelope. She sat me down and told me she loved me and
trusted me and wanted me to have everything I wanted. Even any
type of career I chose. I opened that envelope to find a cashier’s check
worth $25,000 in my name. I was dumbstruck. That was a lot of
money to be given to a roguish thug like me, but at that moment, all I
could do was stare at it and wonder, “why me?”
After that, she told me to go to a certain bank and to see a

certain man about helping me open an account. I was to put the
money into a checking and savings account and use the money to
start my own business. Whatever it was that I wanted to do, she said,
I could pay her back by being successful at it. Once again, I hugged
her and kissed her and couldn’t believe my luck. She led me to the
door and told me to go see the man at the bank, and then get to
Lauderdale. She didn’t have to tell me twice.
After setting up an account, I got five grand in cash and drove

to Ft. Lauderdale. It felt great to be free again. I went straight to the
beach to see how it had changed while I was away. Sure enough, the
Terrace was gone. So was a lot of its other hotels, too. Even Sandy’s
place was gone. In place of the hotels was a southbound two-lane
road, making it A-1-A. Crazy!
I called up Milo to let him know that I was out and then went to
see Jerry. We smoked a couple of joints and cruised around in my
truck until I had to go home. I stopped in on a couple of old, “friends”
and paid back some money I, “borrowed” during my crack addicted
idiocy, and then went right back to cruising A-1-A.
It’s no secret that my mind was racing and urging me on to go

buy some crack. Part of me wanted to go back to Miami and put all of
this mess behind me, but my junkie part was stronger.
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I cruised for a while, until I saw a girl I used to pay for sex. I
always liked her, so I picked her up and we chatted about old times.
When she asked me if I wanted to trick with her, I declined. Instead, I
asked her if the “dope holes” were still open. (“Dope holes” are
places in the hood where you go by drugs). She pointed me to 13th
and 8th Avenue, off of Andrews Avenue, and introduced me to
Maurice; a fat black kid, around 15 years old. I bought $100 worth of
crack and began another binge. What a dumb ass!
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Chapter 91
For three days, I drove around and smoked crack, picking up

various prostitutes, and cruising old neighborhoods, reliving the past.
Crack had such a hold me that I didn’t care what I was doing to Pam,
nor myself. I felt I was on top of the world. I had money, a vehicle, and
a bunch of crack. What more could I want?
Early in the a.m., on my third day, I was pulled over by a cop. I

was coming down Andrews Avenue, after waking Maurice up and
buying some crack. All of the traffic lights were flashing red, due to it
being so early. My truck was the only vehicle on the road that I could
see.
The cop asked me what I was doing out and about this early in
the morning, and I told him I was coming from a friend’s house and
was heading home. He said he pulled me over due to a broken
taillight and asked me out of the truck to show me. I told him that I
had just received a truck, two days prior, and didn’t realize it. He told
me it was no big deal. He was just going to run my name through the
database, and if all was well, I was free to go.
I thought I’d be okay since I was just released from prison and
not extradited back to North Carolina for the violation of parole
there. But…. As my luck would have it, the violation was there. I tried
to appeal to the officer’s kindness by showing him my prison ID,
which still I still carried as a token of remembrance, but he said he
had to do his job since he already called it in. Sigh!
He cuffed me and put me in the backseat of the cop car. He

called a tow truck to collect the truck and then he took me to
Broward County jail and booked me. Home away from home, it
seemed.
When I got processed and given my phone call, of course I

called Pam, it was around 7 a.m. By then, I didn’t have to wake her up.
She said she’d been up by the phone for the past three days, worried
sick. She immediately screamed at me, “Where the fuck is my
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money?” Not, “Are you alright?” Or “What happened?”, but “where the
fuck is my money?” Ha! Yeah, that’s what I thought--- love!
Sitting in the holding cell, for hours and hours, gave me plenty
of time to think of the lies I could tell her, so I began them in earnest. I
turned her anger against her by accusing her of not inspecting the
truck thoroughly enough. I explained about the broken taillight and
my North Carolina violation. I even lied and said I’d been in jail since
about 9 p.m. the same day I left her home. But, being a white boy, I
couldn’t get a phone call until just then. It seemed to work on her. She
cried and apologized and said for me not to worry. She’d get me a
lawyer and see if I could get released. I assured her that I wasn’t
going to be freed until the North Carolina issue was resolved. She
vowed to get it done.
I eased her mind by letting her know her, “precious money”

was still sitting in my account, and I even told her to call her friend at
the bank. She said she had already done that, so I accused her of
caring more about her money than she did me. She cried and begged
for forgiveness, and inside, I was proud of myself for the deception.
For 30 days, I awaited my transfer to North Carolina. The 30th

day I was shackled and cuffed and driven north by a North Carolina
transport officer and taken right back to my old stomping grounds.
Home Sweet Home!
Pam had contacted an old friend of the family who is a bail

bondsman. She paid $5000, in cash, in my name, for my release.
When I arrived at the jail it was as if I stepped back in time. The

jailers came out to see young Tommy Kaos, once again. I was led to a
chair sitting with its back to a folded-out table and made to sit while
the transport officer took off my chains and cuffs. While he did that, I
chatted with the jailers and told them of my Florida experiences.
After I was unchained, I was told that my bond had been posted
and I’d be released in a while. I just had to wait on the paperwork to
get completed. I was told to stay in my chair until they were ready to
release me. “No problem!” I said.
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While I was sitting there, with my back to the table, I heard a

female officer talking to a female inmate. I turned in my seat to see
the officer and the female. All I could see of the inmate was the back
of her head, but I was sure I knew her voice from somewhere. The
officer told me to turn back around in my seat and I did, but I just
couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew the inmate. When the officer
walked away from the inmate I turned around and said, “Excuse me,
Miss,” and her face turned towards me. My mother!?! UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!!!
I asked Mom what the fuck she was doing in jail, and she said
she got arrested for assault. She did 90 days and was being released.
The female officer came back and started to admonish me for talking
to Mom, until I told her who mom was. She just shook her head and
told us to talk quietly. I told Mom what I was doing there and told her
to wait on me when she gets in the lobby, and we could get a ride
together. She said she would, but when I was released she was
nowhere to be found.
When I got out, I called Red to come pick me up. I still had
about a grand, in cash, so I was able to get a motel room. I called Pam
and told her I was free. She told me to go find an attorney and see if
he could help me get this probation violation squashed. I said I would.
She said she was going to take a week off of work and come up to be
with me. I wasn’t expecting that, but I figured I could work it to my
advantage. I had already planned on not going back with her, but I
needed her funds to help me make my legal problems to go away. She
didn’t “love me” and I knew it. She just wanted a young stud to carry
around on her arm and get her pregnant. I wasn’t going to be the one.
I really liked her when I first met her, but she slowly let her
intentions come out, and I’m not stupid by a long shot. I had to think
over how I was going to take advantage of the situation, but right
now…... Tommy Kaos was home, and he wanted to party!
Red and I went to a Honda dealership, and I rented a car for a

week. I’d need one for Pam and me, when she came up the next day.
We parked Red’s vehicle at his house and drove the Honda to a dope
spot called the Hill. I introduced Red to crack cocaine. We rode
around and smoked crack until early in the morning. Red had to
work, so I dropped him off at home and called it a night.
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The next day, I picked up Pam at the Hickory Airport. We went

to the motel room, had sex, and talked over what I needed to do. She
said she was willing to pay anything to get this behind us, so I could
go back to Miami to start, “our” life, but I had other plans.
Before I rented the Honda, I had Red take me to an attorney

who was a friend of my family. He was the slumlord I had rented my
apartment from when I had knocked mom out and left home. I
explained to him my situation and he said it was a simple process and
he’d charge me $750 to represent me, since it would be a walk-in
hearing. He made a call to the DA and worked out a deal where I
could pay a fine and court costs, and that would be the end of it. Since
I just got released from prison in Florida, and was going back to
Florida, the DA would gladly get rid of me. Cool! But…. I wasn’t done
yet. I asked him if he could make up a fake agreement, charging me
$10,000 instead of $750. He sat back in his chair and looked at me,
questioningly.
I explained that I was involved in a situation where I could

make some money by having someone else (an older woman) pay for
my expenses, and she’d never question the price tag. He asked what
was in it for him. I told him I’d give him an even two grand, $750 for
the representation $1250 for the bogus agreement and a receipt. He
thought it over for just a second, then, agreed. Ha! Don’t you just love
attorneys!!
I had a very quick court hearing set for the following Monday
morning, so we could resolve this issue. Since it was the beginning of
the week, I still had a week to kill, so I took Pam and introduced her
to some of my family and friends, saying she was my fiancée. I took
her to the mountains, to some theme parks and attractions, and
showed her very good time. I may as well, she was paying for it.
She had to fly back to Miami on Sunday morning. This would be

the next to last time I ever saw her again.
On Monday morning, I went to the Catawba County Courthouse

and met the attorney. He said we would walk into court, stand before
the judge, “Yes sir” him to death and I would be free. And that’s
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exactly how it happened. The state’s attorney argued for me to do

some more prison time, but it was all a show for my benefit, to try
keeping me from coming back to North Carolina. I assured the judge
that I was heading back to Florida the next day. He made me pay a
fine of $350, plus court costs. My lawyer asked if the money could be
deducted from my cash bond, and he agreed.
We walked out of the courtroom we went downstairs to the

clerk’s office to collect the rest of my bond money, minus $415 ($350
for the fine and $65 for the court). I was given a check for $4585 in
my name, and we left.
Our next stop was the Bank of Granite, so I could collect my

share of the ten-thousand-dollar check that Pam had written to the
lawyer. He cashed it and gave me $8000, cash. I cashed the courts
check too, giving me over 12 grand in cash.
When I left that bank I went to the Bank of America and

emptied out my account of $20,000, that had sat there for over 30
days. I had a chunk of cash on me, and I was ready to party.
I cruised around for a while, to trying think on what I would do.

I knew I wasn’t going back to Pam. That was out! I wasn’t fixing to be
a stud, a boy toy, showpiece, or arm candy for anyone. Unless of
course I was being paid handsomely for it, and I didn’t believe she
had that in mind.
I called Red and told him to come to the motel when he got off
work. I went to the hood and got some crack and got high until he
showed up. He asked me what I was going to do about Pam and
Florida, and I told him I was going back to Florida, but not to Pam. I
wasn’t looking for a wife, or child, or settling down. I was 22 years old
and fresh out of prison. I wanted to party, not be a homemaker. We
cruised the hood and found a white girl hooking. We took her back to
my room and then had some fun with her. I even bought a Polaroid
camera and took two packs worth of photos of the girl, in various
positions, lying on all of the money I had. Being an asshole, and a son
of a bitch…. I mailed all the pictures to Pam. “Have a nice life”, was all
I wrote her.
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The next day, I took the car back to the dealership and Red
drove me to the bus station. I had called and reserved a one-way
ticket for Fort Lauderdale. It was time for me to go back and have
some fun now that I was strapped with over $30,000 in cash. I was
free from any obligations; court, prison, females, etc.…. I could do
anything I wanted to. My dumb ass chose crack. It was what it was!
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Chapter 92
Before I arrived in Fort Lauderdale, I contacted The Fatman,

and he set me up in a room and one of his houses. He rented me a car
rental for a month, so I’d have transportation. I went around and saw
everyone, again, and did a couple weeks of partying hard. I burned
through the money in no time at all. It wasn’t long before I was back
to working on houses for The Fatman, just to earn some money. But
that shit got old, quickly.
I called Milo to see if he’d let me drive for him again, or just set
me up with a kilo, so I could sell it and come up. He was hesitant but
he gave in, since I lied and said I hadn’t done any coke since being
out. He then gave me a few ounces to sell, and I was right back in the
thick of things with that life. Except for one thing…. I was still on
crack.
I got Milo his money, immediately, so he’d give me more. I kept

that up for a few weeks, kidding myself into thinking that I could be a
drug dealer, and a drug user, as long as I did it in moderation and
handled my business before pleasure. I really believed I could
manage that, but…. Like every good lie I’ve ever told myself, at all
crashed down around my head.
I’d gotten to the point where I paid Milo for any drugs he gave
me, in advance. I knew if I didn’t give him cash, up front, I’d end up
wasting it on crack. I never wanted to asked Milo without having any
money. But the crack cocaine is a mother fucker and will tell your
frenzied mind all sorts of shit to get you to do some crazy ass things
to get it. I ended up “borrowing” a few ounces from him and then
smoked it all up. Now, I owed him and didn’t have the cash to pay
him. Time to go robbing!
Armed with just a butcher knife and a rented get-away car, I

went on a robbery spree of 7/11’s, Circle K’s, and any little mom and
pop store I could find. When I got all Milo’s money together and paid
him back, my conscience kicked in as well as my self-preservation. I
went in hiding for a while.
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After paying Milo back I told him what I was up to and that I
wanted to quit cocaine but was too weak. He said he sympathized
with me, but he had no idea. He wasn’t addicted like I was. I still had
about two grand from the robberies and didn’t want to waste it on
dope, so I had him help me look through the newspaper to find
myself a place to live, where I could hide and lay low. That’s how I
met my new buddy Joe.
I called about an ad for a room for rent in a condo just off of Los
Olas Boulevard; an offshoot off Broward Boulevard that goes directly
to A-1-A and the beach. I met with Joe when he got off of work and we
talked.
Joe was a copy editor for the local Sun Sentinel newspaper. He
was a very nerdy kind of guy but had a great sense of humor. He was
about 40 years old, skinny, but very neat. His condo was immaculate,
which I found out was due to his girlfriend, Mary. She also had a
condo in the building, but it was night to his day. Where he was
skinny, she was big boned and huge. She lived with her mother and
was a copy editor as well. Somehow they got along great. She didn’t
like me at all. But Joe did. So, he rented me the room for $300 a
month, everything included. Even food if I chose to eat what he ate.
Cool!
I had explained to him that I was a recovering addict, ha! And

was trying to make a new start. He was very sympathetic saying he
too used to be an addict, when he lived and worked in Texas. He
wanted to help me kick my habit, so I moved in with the hopes of
making a new start. I truly did need one. I slept for two days, with
little food, but I was hopeful.
When I got up and got familiar to my surroundings, I decided to

go in search of a job. Since Joe worked at the Sun Sentinel, he had a
stack of newspapers that I perused through. I circled various job
opportunities and made some phone calls. Not having a car, I had to
take the city bus to get to my destinations, but I felt alive. Like I
finally decided to enjoy life instead of distorting it with cocaine. I felt
good, confident, and happy with myself. It was a good start.
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After various places and applications, I went back to the condo.

Every place I went to had my new number, and all I could do was
wait. I went to numerous restaurants and applied for any position
available. It’s what I knew from my childhood, so how could I go
wrong with going back into the field I felt comfortable with?
The very next day, the Olive Garden called and asked if I’d be
willing to train as a waiter. I said, “No problem!” And was told to
come see the manager at noon. I was there at 11:30 a.m. I wanted the
job.
The manager was a nice, older lady who informed me how the
Olive Garden hired its employees. It had an orientation process
where we’d be paid minimum wage for the hours it took to learn the
information (i.e., Menu, the how-to and cooking and preparing the
food, and the ins and outs of the money process, as well as the steps)
very professional. I was scheduled to come back on Monday at 9 a.m.
to start orientation with the other new hires. Awesome! I had a real
job with a real paycheck, and I wasn’t wanted by any law
enforcement, that I knew of. I let out a huge sigh of relief and took the
bus home.
That evening I explained my good fortune to my new

roommate. He gave me some good advice about this and that and told
me I’d need to find myself some transportation. I could rely on the
bus, but that if I missed it, I’d have a hard time explaining to the
manager why I missed it and was late. I still had a few hundred bucks
left, so we searched the newspaper for some sort of transportation. I
ended up finding a brand-new/one month owned blue Tomes moped
for $700. I called the person who owned it, and bought it, with only
about 60 miles on the odometer. For the rest of the week, I had fun on
that moped.
On Monday morning, I got to the Olive Garden early and met

the other “Recruits”, as we were jokingly called. It was a mixture of
ethnic people, but I was more interested in the girls. There were
about 15 of us in the group, with only three guys, me included. I was
to be the only waiter from the guys. One was a Mexican who spoke
very little English, a busboy. The other guy was Dave, a bartender.
Dave and I became friends fast and flirted with the females.
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The woman who supervised us was cute and funny and took it
upon herself to stare at me the whole time she talked. Dave kidded
me that she was, “enchanted” by me, but I blew it off. I was
“enchanted” by Nikki, a soon-to-be waitress. She was hot and our
eyes strayed all over each other. But the supervisor wasn’t giving up
without a fight.
After the first couple of hours of orientation, Susan (the

supervisor) called me aside and asked me if I’d like to go to a party at
her house, that weekend. Talk about fast, she wasn’t wasting any
time. I said, “sure, why not?!” And made a date with her.
After orientation, Dave took me to a local pub, called the

Stained-Glass Pub, to play some pool and get a beer. A couple of other
newbies came along, such as Nikki. Her, Dave, and I played pool and I
flirted with Nikki, openly. She flirted back, but later told me she was
living with someone and couldn’t go out with me. Damn! Well, onto
the next one.
All that week was orientation. Friday, we finished and was told
we’d begin work on Monday. That left me the whole weekend to do as
I chose. That night I met Susan at the pub when she got off of work
and we went to her house
She lived with her parents, and it was her older brother who
had the party. She turned out to be a sex starved little nympho and
had my dick out as soon as we jumped into their swimming pool. I
didn’t care that there were almost 100 people around, and in the
pool. I had sex with her there in front of everyone. No one seemed to
care, so I didn’t either. But it instantly turned me off to her as any
kind of girl to have a relationship with. I slept with her a couple more
times that evening, and she drove me home early in the morning.
On Monday morning, I went to work. I was given everything I’d

need to be a waiter, who was nothing more than order receipts and a
small leather folder to hold them in. I was given a three-table section
at 11 a.m. I began to be a waiter. I loved it, instantly.
Susan kept coming up to me and acting like we were boyfriend

and girlfriend now. I got perturbed because she kept grabbing my
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ass, or trying to hold my hand during work, so I had to take her aside
and let her know, in my complete assholeness, that she was acting
like an idiot in front of the other workers. I thought I’d get fired, but
she just looked at me like I slapped her and stalked off. After work, I
told her I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend and she played it off, saying
she wasn’t wanting a boyfriend either. We ended that, right then and
there. I found out later that she had had a hard time getting a
boyfriend, due to her needy ways. No shit!
Being the dog that I am I ended up, “being” with almost every
available girl who worked there. All the other male waiters laughed
at me for it, but I turned it around on them and teased them for not
getting any pussy. Dave was married to a very hot girl, so he was
exempt from my comments. He still flirted, but he was faithful to his
girl.
After a few weeks, Dave put me up on a cool scam. He was

selling drinks for cash and pocketing the money. He had me talk
customers into buying drinks as a “special” and if the customer paid
cash, instead of credit cards, we split the cash for the drinks after
every shift. Not too many people had drinks during lunch, but dinner
was another story. We racked up a lot of extra cash in the evenings.
After some thinking on it I gave Dave a scam to rake in even

more cash. We, as waiters, hated working during the lunch hours. The
tips were very poor. I cleared about $15-$20 after every lunch shift,
which isn’t bad, but not to my liking. I noticed how people paid in
cash, more than credit cards, so I came up with an idea that let me
pocket all the cash I wanted.
We were given about 10 receipts, every shift. Each receipt was

basically an order slip, that was called a “check”, that had the tables
order on it. What I did was this…… Most of the lunch customers ate
the soup, salad, and breadstick specials of $6.95, plus a drink. I placed
the check on the table of two or three customers and see if they paid
cash. If they did pay cash, I’d go and make changes out of my own
pocket or go to Dave at the bar. I’d give them their change and they’d
leave a tip and go about their business. I’d pick up the tip and the
check and go to see about my other tables. At the next table of two or
more customers, I’d simply place that check on their table and keep
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doing that until someone paid with a credit card. Then, I’d turn that
check in and start another one. I’d end up with $75 to $200 in my
pocket for about two hours of work.
At dinner time, I’d changed my game up, just a bit. I had to

incorporate the cook into my scheme in the evenings. I’d just take the
customer’s order on a napkin and slide that to the cook, who got 25%
of my total scam for the night. If the customer paid cash, I used a
stolen check and pocket the cash. If they paid with credit card, I’d
rewrite a legitimate check and turn it in. It was too easy.
Except for one thing…… Having sex with almost every female
who worked there didn’t do my scamming much good in the end.
After Susan, I went for Nancy, a waitress. After her, I went for a
Mexican bus girl who could barely speak English. Then, another
waitress, and another. I ended up beating up my buddy Tony because
he thought I was moving in on his girl, but that wasn’t the case. She
was a good girl, but too skinny for my tastes. Besides, she was jacked
up over Tony, and I respected that. He just got drunk at the Stained-
Glass Pub because she had just kicked him out. He thought I was the
cause and picked a fight with me. I smashed his face. Then Tony
couldn’t work for a week. Needless to say, they got back together, and
they both hated me after that. Even after she told me I wasn’t the
cause for their breakup. Go figure.
Anyway, after the Mexican girl I got a hold of the assistant

manager. She was older than me by about 10 years. She’d heard
rumors of my being a horny bastard and she wanted some. So…. I
gave it to her, then dumped her as soon as I saw the new hostess.
This girl was absolutely hot in my eyes. She was a bit thicker
than most of the girls I’ve “dated”, but she was proportioned very
nicely; blonde hair, green eyes, short-short dresses, and sexy legs.
Plus, she eyeballed me like a steak. Vice-versa in my mind. Connie
was new, available, and next in line for me. The only problem with
her was she was too nice. I mean nice, nice.
I asked her out and she agreed on the spot. I took her to the
Stained-Glass Pub first, then we went to Dave’s place. Dave had a live-
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in girlfriend in a duplex apartment. The apartment had a garage with

a pool table, and a refrigerator with a built-in keg on tap. Party pad!
We hung out there and smoked some pot before she had me take her
home. (Oh yeah, since I was raking in the cash at work I bought a
used Chrysler LeBaron. A very nice car) She lived with her family in a
nice, gated community. She didn’t invite me in.
After that, she was the girl I wanted. She didn’t act like the
loose girls I was used to, so she attracted my interest immediately.
We dated for about a month. When we did have sex, she made me use
a condom and she was very timid. I was her “second” bed partner,
she said. The first broke her cherry, and her heart. I just broke her
heart, again. I felt bad about her because she was a really nice
person… but… I wasn’t. After another month of dating, it all came to
an end. She snitched on me for me erasing her seating chart where
my name was concerned. I was pulled into the office and fired. The
manager said he knew I was doing something illegal but couldn’t
prove it. He could fire me for any reason, so he chose to use the
erased seating chart as his excuse.
Connie ended up crying like a baby when I accused her of

getting me fired. She said she couldn’t lie to anyone. Too nice for me! I
ended our relationship right in the lobby of the Olive Garden. I left
her sobbing on the floor where she collapsed. She called and called
my apartment, over and over again, but I was done with her. On to
better shores.
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Chapter 93
Since I’ve only been out of prison a few months, I decided to go

to a job placement organization in Hollywood, Florida to see if they
could help me find something. After the Olive Garden, I went to
another Olive Garden on 17th St. Causeway, near the beach. They
hired me on the spot as I sold myself as an already oriented
individual and proved it by singing the “Congrats song”, and by telling
the female manager (Ahem) all of the shortened words used by
waiters when ordering. I failed to mention my working at the
Oakland Park store saying instead that I had worked in one in North
Carolina. I worked for a week until I was called to the office and told,
point blank, that I was fired, and I would never be hired back by that
company again. I was, “blacklisted” due to suspicions of theft. What
really sucked was I enjoyed this Olive Garden even more, the females
loved me, and the managerial staff were airheads. I made close to a
grand that first week. Well, time to move on.
The job placement place I went to told me to go to a Howard

Johnson’s on Hallandale Beach Boulevard, which sat right next to the
entrance to I-95. They needed a maintenance man, and since I listed
my skills as an “all around handyman”, that might be the job for me.
The manager was called and was told I was an ex-con, so that was out
there when I arrived for the interview.
Meeting the manager was a very different experience for me.

He was a very young guy from New Jersey. He was recently sent
down from his home office in New Jersey to oversee the hotel due to
its past poor handling. The hotel was just a block away from the hood,
and crack town, and right across the street from South Florid’s
premier heavy metal nightclub called “The Button South”. The place
had had its share of destruction and police visits. The parent
company was hoping that a white manager would turn the place
around, since it used to be run by an all-black staff. Jim, the young
manager, was the only white person I ever saw, beside myself, who
worked there.
Upon meeting Jim, he was impressed that I was fresh out of

prison and wanted to work to stay off drugs. I’d given him a sob story
of being a crack addict on the comeback. He took me to an unused
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room and asked me a question having to deal with the bathroom tile
and how to fix it. I explained exactly how to repair the damage and he
said that was good enough for him. I was hired.
Jim took me around and showed me all of the must do duties,

(i.e., Check the chlorine content of the pool, run the diesel generator
once a week, make sure housekeeping is running smoothly with the
washers, dryers, and vacuums, etc.) He introduced me to the assistant
manager Jeff, (who was recently promoted from senior clerk), as well
as all of the maids and the restaurant staff. I was told that I had free
meals and drinks and could run a credit line with the clerk at the
front desk. Whatever I “got” would be deducted from my paycheck.
Cool!
I was to start work on Monday morning, so I went home and

relaxed all weekend.
I went in about 15 minutes early on Monday, to make a good

impression. Jim gave me a set of master keys to every door in the
building and led me to my new “office” which was nothing more than
a storage room with all sorts of maintenance supplies. He gave me a
walkie-talkie and a maintenance belt and told me to go see the lady in
charge of housekeeping for a list of rooms that needed repairs and to
also see the desk clerk for her list.
I was swamped the first week on the job. The place was a
complete mess. I fixed toilets, leaky faucets, broken lamps, and lots of
dead light bulbs. By the following Monday I had all but a few rooms
back in rentable shape. Jim was happy with my work, and he gave me
some pride to have a good boss that appreciated it.
The company that owned the hotel, also owned the Button
South Nightclub across the street. One day, Jim asked me if I’d go over
to see the manager of the club. He said he needed me to fix a few
things if I was willing. I’m a Heavy metal enthusiast and had been to
the club before, so I jumped at the opportunity to be of need to the
place. All they needed me to do was fix a couple of toilets and some
lighting. So, when the manager asked what I wanted for payment for
my work, I suggested he let me have free admission to the place and
I’d fix anything, any time, he needed me to. He immediately loved that
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idea, so he gave me a VIP card to the club for free admittance and free
drinks. I loved my job!
It was the beginning of April 1990, and I was doing pretty good.
My LeBaron turned out to be a real lemon, so I traded it in for a
Subaru GL sport. For $10 I could fill the tank and drive all week long.
But what happens when you feel comfortable? I go back to my old
friend crack cocaine.
As my habits go, I got my second paycheck and cashed it at the

front of the desk. Being comfortable with my life, I felt I could
celebrate the weekend with a little “party” for myself. So…. I drove to
the hood I was comfortable with and bought a dime bag of weed and
a $20 rock.
Earlier in the day I asked Jim if I could occupy one of the hotel
rooms that was “off the books” for repair for the weekend. I told him
I’d stay, “on call” for the front desk and housekeeping, and I’d only
need the room for the weekend. He didn’t see any problem with that,
so I got myself a suite on the top floor to party in.
I had stopped by my apartment to tell Joe I’d be gone for the

weekend. He didn’t question me, so off I went in search of a prostitute
to party with. Come Monday morning I was broke and in debt to the
front desk for $50. Let the Kaos begin.
Things began to spiral downhill for me, once again. But not
before I had a shit load of fun first.
I ended up spending almost every weekend at the hotel. With a

free room and free food, what more could I want?! I got a weekly
paycheck, minus the funds I borrowed from the front desk. So, I’d go
buy weed and crack each Friday evening.
One day Jim asked me if I could get him some weed. At first I
was shocked and acted like I had no idea about such things, but he
told me he could smell it on me sometimes. So, I admitted that “Yes, I
could get him what he wanted.” He said the stress of running the
hotel was too much for him and he needed to relax. I went to my spot
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and got us a couple of dime bags, and some crack for myself for later
on.
I took Jim up on the roof so we could smoke in private. He

poured out his life’s problems to me and, in turn, I told him I was
fixing to lose the room I was renting due to my poor financing
abilities. He said I could stay at the hotel for as long as I needed to, as
long as I stayed in an “off the books,” room and stayed on call 24-7. I
agreed, and that was that. I promised to keep the pot smoking a
secret and he promised to give me 16 hours of overtime pay each
week to help me pay for an apartment in a month. “No problem!”
My roommate Joe wasn’t happy that I was moving out but

understood when I confessed to him that I was smoking crack again.
He didn’t want me doing it in his condo, but he voiced his concern
about my addiction problem. I packed my belongings into my Subaru
and moved to room 525 at the Howard Johnson’s, the topmost corner
suite.
During this time, there was a crew of magazine subscription

“hustlers” living on the third floor. They rented about 15 rooms for
the 25 to 30 youths who were employed by a man and his wife.
They’d go into towns, colleges, shopping centers, and apartment
complexes to sell magazine subscriptions. Most of it was a scam. If
you paid in check you might get your subscription, and cash... forget
about it. Most the workers were between the ages of 18 and 25 and it
was a mixed bunch of boys and girls, all white, from various parts of
the country. Some were runaways, some were running from the law,
and some were just wayward individuals with no roots and just
wanted to travel. But every one of them had the gift of being a
salesman, or to be politically correct, a salesperson.
On a daily basis, they’d pour into many vehicles and scour the
area for places to put out a couple of girls, or couple of guys, and
they’d blend into parking lots. Or going off door to door to sell their
150 different magazines and sell one, or two, subscriptions. Each
person had their own spiel that they made up on their own to get
unsuspecting, “marks” to purchase one subscription, or more.
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The boss gave out quotas for the day and when you filled the
quota, you could take the rest of the day off. Usually, each worker
would bring in about 15 sales a day, averaging $26.50 a subscription.
Some subscriptions were pricier than others. A good salesperson
could rake in $4500 a day. The boss got 50%, leaving the other half
for the worker. The worker could only get about $20-$40 a day of his
share, while the boss banks the savings of each worker. The money
saved was for when the worker decided to leave the business; they
have a nice chunk of cash to move on with.
On the weekends, it was like a great big family. They’d be

allowed up to $100 from their savings to use for themselves, however
they wished. This is where I came in the picture with that many,
“kids” each having $100 to spend, and most of them were potheads or
crack addicts. I was the go-to-guy for the drugs.
I flirted, hard, for the feel of the girls and had one or two of
them in my room. When they found out I could get drugs I became
everyone’s best friend. Every evening I had to make runs to the dope
spot to get everyone what they wanted. I literally had to take a
shopping list of who bought what just to pass it out when I got back. I
got high for free most of the time.
While this was all taking place, another episode was in the
making. Jeff, the assistant manager, had a friend who wanted to rent
the two banquet rooms for a birthday party. He got all of the
paperwork and the money approved by Joe, but Joe wasn’t trusting
his assistant. He called me to his office and asked me to work as
security for the party that was to take place the following Friday
evening. With promises of extra pay I agreed.
When Jeff found out I was to work as security he got pissed off
but wouldn’t go against his boss. Instead, he offered me $100 to be
laxed in my duties. I was “supposed” to ID everyone coming into the
party. It was “supposed” to be a “21 and over” party, with alcohol and
a live DJ. I was told by Jeff that there would be people under 21 and I
was to let them in. No problem!
What turned out even better for me was when I stepped

outside to smoke a cigarette. The dude hosting the party, “B” pulled
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up in a caddy with all the drug dealer bells and whistles on it. When
he got out of the car I immediately recognized him from a previous
stint at the Florida City Work Camp. He recognized me, too and we
shook hands and laughed about it being a small world. We talked for
a few minutes, and I filled him in on my obligations for the party. He
asked me what I’d need to just “disappear for the evening.” I told him
I wanted some rocks.
He said, “how much?”.
And I said, “bless me!”
“Not a problem!" He said and went inside to check out the

rooms and to talk to Jeff.
Come Friday evening, Jim was all over me about keeping the
place secure and safe. I told him as long as Jeff was there we should
be good. Jeff, adamantly, promised to keep things smooth. Oh, what a
lie he told.
When the boss left for the day, Jeff and his friends were loading
the banquet rooms with DJ equipment and booze. They were going to
party hard. Jeff came up to me and gave me the hundred dollars he
promised me. Then, B pulled up and called me over to his car. He
produced a huge pill bottle, with at least 100 rocks inside. He asked
me if it was enough, and I just laughed.
“Hell yeah, bro! I’ll see y’all later.” I said and went directly to
my room. I called up one of the girls from the magazine crew and we
got down to some smoking and sex.
For hours, we smoked and just hung out naked. Then, all hell
broke loose. My phone rang. It was Jeff telling me to get to the third
floor, ASAP. I didn’t get a chance to ask why before he hung up on me.
I got dressed and ran for the elevator, but it didn’t work. I could hear
a fire alarm going off somewhere in the building. I almost went back
to my room, but I had to see what the problem was. I took the stairs.
When I stepped into the stairwell I could hear what sounded

like a waterfall. As I got down to the third floor, that’s exactly what it
sounded like. Water cascading down the stairs, coming out of the
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third-floor stairwell exit. I opened the door and saw the water
coming from the sprinkler system in the ceiling. Lots of magazine
crew occupants were standing inside their doorways, angry as hell.
They asked me what the hell was going on and all I could do was say,
“I don’t know!”
Jeff arrived and told me to go into each room and make sure
the water wasn’t going into any of the rooms. Just then the water
stopped. The fire department had arrived and cut it off. The police
came, too. I ran to housekeeping and grabbed an arm full of towels to
put down in the doorways of the rooms. Only a minor bit of water got
past the thin marble barrier that ran across each doorway, so that
was a blessing. But the occupants were still pissed off for having been
inconvenienced, and awakened at 1:30 a.m. Those that were asleep
anyway.
After about an hour of squeegeeing the water towards the exits,

I was tired and needing a fix. I stepped off into an empty room and
took a few hits to bring me back to the Nirvana I was chasing ever
since I first got high on crack.
Jeff was dry vacuuming carpets and swearing like a sailor. It

seems the police shut down the party in the banquet rooms due to a
noise and occupancy ordinance. Not to mention underage kids
around so much alcohol. Jeff figured he’d be fired for his blunder, and
he was right. On Monday morning, the police came to talk to Jim and
that sealed his fate. I was called into Jim’s office, after he fired Jeff,
and he questioned me about why I didn’t do the job he assigned to
me. I put it off on the freshly fired Jeff as having ordered me to leave
the party to him. Jim bought my story, and I still had my job…. And
my room.
No one knew what caused the fire sprinklers to go off, but I

found out, the morning after the mishap. Some of the magazine crew
had decided to have some fun and chase off the growing number of
blacks that were entering the hotel, so one of them held a lighter to
an alarm and that was that. I never told a soul about it until now. Can
you keep a secret? Ha!
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Chapter 94
After Jeff was fired, and the hotel was back too normal, Jim got
very uptight with everyone. He had to notify his home office about
the fire alarm situation and was told that a representative was
coming down to see how he was handling things. The first thing I was
told to do was to go into the banquet rooms and clean them up. He
couldn’t have the representative see the mess that was left behind.
The rooms had been sealed by the police until Monday, when
the police chief came by and spoke to Jim about the “overcapacity and
fire hazards”. I went into the rooms, knowing I had a lot of work to do
to clean it all up. I went with hefty bags and a wet dry vac.
The place was trashed. Liquor bottles, beer bottles and cans,
food wrappers, drug paraphernalia, even cash was just lying around. I
went and scooped up all of the drugs and cash I could find and rushed
them to my room. I had found a fat baggy of crack behind one of the
speakers, so I had to try it out before I got back to cleaning. Good stuff
too!
By 3 p.m. I was done. I boxed up all the liquor and the leftover
food for B to pick up. He was supposed to come over after Jim left to
retrieve the music and DJ equipment and leftover stuff, so I had it
ready for him. When he arrived, I helped him load everything into a
truck. He asked about the baggy of crack, saying one of his, “brothers”
said they stashed it behind the speaker, but I said the maids cleaned
rooms. I had no idea about any of it. He gave me a handshake and left.
I went up to my room and smoked crack for about three days on what
was in that baggy. Thanks, B!!
Every evening I hung out with some of the magazine

crewmembers. It was a guy named, “Kid” with spiked blonde hair,
and another dude named Shane, and a girl I was having regular sex
with, Jen. They’d pull their money together and I’d go to my dope spot
to get them what we needed.
They kept trying to get me to go out with them on one of their

daily sales outings, but I was always too busy doing my maintenance
job for the hotel, or for The Button. One day I got Jim to give me an
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afternoon off for, “personal business,” and I went out with Kid and
Shane to see what they were up to.
What they did was go to a Winn-Dixie parking lot to show me

their magic. Kid had me follow him first. His spiel was simple…….
He’d run up to anyone who was either getting into their car or getting
out. They preferred people getting out of their car because they’re
thinking was that the person hadn’t spent their money yet, so maybe
they could get some of it before the individual got into the store. Kid
would tell the people he was a student from college in California and
was out promoting magazine sales for S. A. D. D. (Students Against
Drunk Drivers). He’d say he had a friend who had died by a drunk
driver, and it was his mission in life to support the S.A.D.D.
Organization. He also said that 20% of all sales went to the charity.
Out of three people I saw him talk to, each one bought a magazine
subscription. He collected more than $100 in less than 30 min.
Shane’s spiel was different. He was collecting magazine

subscription sales to benefit the Cancer Society. He sold to three out
of four people, for over $100 as well.
I couldn’t believe how gullible people were to believe that crap,

but it gave me a whole new perspective on how to deal with people.
Shane and Kid encouraged me to give it a try, and being new at it, I
wasn’t ready to talk openly as they did. I stumbled and mumbled my
way through three people that didn’t give me a dime. But…... I had the
fever to keep on trying. I decided to quit my job and become a
salesman, too.
I went and talked to the crew’s manager, Mike, and he

explained all the ins and outs of his business and what I could expect
while working for him. I could leave the crew at any point in my
travels with whatever cash money I had saved up, plus a bus ticket.
I’d have to share room with whoever I chose, and I’d have to pay $11
a day for that. I had to feed myself out of my own money, but he’d
loan me some whenever I was in need. If I claimed a quota of say 15
subscriptions a day, and didn’t meet that quota, I only received 40%
of every sale. I got 50% of sales if I met the quota. If I exceeded the
daily quota, I’d get 60%, plus an extra $20 to spend on top of my daily
allowance of $30.
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Each morning was the crew meeting, where everyone piled

into Mike’s room to state your daily quota and receive your daily
allowance. You picked the crew you wanted to ride with, (boys with
boys, girls with girls) and then Mike would map out each crew’s
destinations for the day.
To me, all of it sounded exciting and adventurous, so I signed

on. They were leaving the area and heading to Jacksonville, next. I
had a week to get my affairs in order and then we were off.
I gave Jim a notice and he wasn’t too thrilled about it. He threw
up in my face all he had done for me, and I told him I had appreciated
his help, but I was leaving, no matter what. He tried to give me a
dollar raise, which would have been great, but I was all set in my
mind to go out and try this new opportunity, to scam people and have
a blast doing it.
Taking my car wasn’t financially feasible, so when the day

arrived for us to pull out, I had Shane follow me to the buy-here pay-
here lot where I had purchased it, and I dropped it off. I left a note
saying, “sorry, but I don’t want it any longer.” I was two weeks behind
on the payment, anyway. Mike said I could take it with me, but I’d
have to pay for my own gas and repairs, if I did. I didn’t need the car.
Everyone rode in vans, suburbans, or Chevy Blazers. I rode with
Shane and Kid in one of the Blazers.
By the time I got to Jacksonville I had my spiel down pat. I was

using the University of Miami as my college, and the guise of being a
“Communications Major” trying to raise money for the S.A.D.D.
Organization. I learned my lines and used them on Shane and Kid as
we drove north on I-95.
My first couple of tries were sketchy, but I finally sold some

magazines. When I did, my confidence grew, immensely. What I really
enjoyed about this “work” (if you could call it that) was meeting all of
the women. I focused primarily on them. In less than a week in
Jacksonville I was raking in the cash. Everyone said I was a natural
with the gift of gab and that gave me even more confidence to go after
more subscription sales.
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What surprised me the most about the adventure was the

loneliness of a lot of women. That, and learning that women are no
different than men… They wanted sex anywhere, anytime, and were
willing to have sex with a stranger just for the excitement of it.
I’d flirt with almost every woman, young and old. I’d meet them
before the day was over and I’d have sex with one, or three, in their
cars, our blazer, in-store dressing rooms, or supermarket bathrooms.
It was wild, unprotected sex and as raunchy as you could get.
My favorite places to chase women were at colleges. We went

to the University of Georgia, University of South Carolina, University
of North Carolina, North Carolina State, University of Virginia, and
every local community college there was. I was secretly pulled into
sorority houses, all over the east coast, just for sex. At every college
town we went to, I got laid numerous times, by numerous girls and
women. Not to mention getting paid for it. I was handed cash and
checks and told to donate the funds to the charity or buy a
subscription and give them away. Of course, I pocketed the cash and
laughed about it.
Shane and Kid weren’t as lucky as I was with the women. Shane
got laid quite a bit, but Kid wasn’t the kind of guy normal, everyday
women went for. He sported all sorts of wild hairdos to try and stand
out, but it mostly turned women off. When I knew him, he had a
spiked, bleach blonde Mohawk. I don’t know how he sold magazines,
but he was a top earner. That dude could talk to shoes off of the
statue. He was so good. Then my having sex with lots of women was a
sore thorn in his side. He began to hate me for it, while Shane and the
other guys admired me for it.
The girls on the crew were the real earners. They made way
more money than the guys, but they were supplementing their
income by quietly prostituting themselves out in the same parking
lots they sold magazines out of. Their favorite places to go were
military bases. They’d sell almost twice as many subscriptions as the
guys, but the females didn’t tend to stick around for very long. They’d
meet some sort of boy, or man, and run off with them to live happily
ever after. Some would pop back up in another town and rejoin the
crew, while others were never heard from again. Even Jen, that I had
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sex with at the Howard Johnson, disappeared one day saying she
found a sugar daddy and was off to Vegas. “good luck and God bless!”,
we all said.
The episode that’s most worthy of talking about was when Kid
and I got into a fight. Well, not really a fight, it was more of a one-way
situation…. Shane was sick, so Kid and I had to go it alone for the day.
Kid was a weird dude and Mike made a huge mistake by putting him
in charge of the blazer, and me. He found that out later on.
Kid and I were told to go to Walmart. We were in Raleigh,

North Carolina and Kid was in the driver seat. An unspoken rule
was... “We weren’t to have sex of any kind in the vehicles”, but Shane,
Kid, and I used the blazer at our own discretion. Except for today.
We set out to do our business in the Walmart parking lot.

Around lunchtime I met a girl who wanted to have sex with me, but
we had nowhere to go. She lived a couple of blocks from Walmart and
had to walk there. Not wanting to leave the parking lot, I suggested
we climb into the back of the blazer. About halfway through our romp
the back door opens up and Kid is standing there looking at my ass,
pumping away. I turned to tell him to shut the fucking door, but he
got all high and mighty and cussed at me. Telling me to get the fuck
out of the blazer. I told him; I’ll be out when I’m done. He ain’t
budging, he says, “until we stop our rutting and get the fuck out of the
blazer, he’s not moving!” Now, I’m pissed off and the moods over for
me and the girl. I climbed off of her, pull my pants up, got out of the
blazer, and punched Kid in the mouth. He tried to get up, but I hit him
again. This time in the eye. The girl ran off. Kid whined that I’d be
fired, and I’m gonna pay for putting my hands on him, blah, blah, blah.
Since our day was shot to hell, we got back to the motel where we
were all staying at, and he tells Mike what I did in the blazer. Fuck
him.
Mike is a cool dude and knows what it’s like to chase pussy. He
started out as a crew member until he decided to run his own crew.
He sympathized with me, but he’s had Kid on his crew for about a
year, where I was the new guy. Here’s Kid with a split lip and a
swollen black eye, whining about me not following the rules that Kid
himself had violated in the past. What was he gonna do?
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He tells Kid to leave his room for a few minutes so he can talk
with me. When Kid exits the room, Mike tells me I was the first
person to ever stand up to Kid. Kid had a bad reputation as a bully,
and everyone was scared of him because he always talked a violent
talk. I told Mike; Kid was pure pussy in my eyes. (No one knew
anything about me or my Kaotic past) Mike said he wasn’t going to
fire me but asked me to stay away from Kid. I said, “No problem!”
He called Kid into the room, and I apologized to Kid for hitting
him. Mike told Kid to move out of the room with me and Shane, and
he was to trade places with Shawn, another member of the crew. He
asked Kid if he wanted a straight up fight with me to settle the
situation, but Kid was a real coward and refused. (I had made the
suggestion to Mike knowing that Kid wouldn’t want that.)
Also, since I had hurt Kids face he wouldn’t be able to sell many
subscriptions, so I was told I had to donate 10% of my daily sales for
a week to Kid until healed. “No problem!” Again. We were made to
shake hands and that was that. Or so I thought!
When everyone came back in that day they had heard about my
kicking Kid’s ass, so everyone stopped by my room to congratulate
me for bringing down the big, bad, Kid. I laughed it off and let
everyone know that Kid was a pussy at heart. “Don’t fear him
anymore!”, I said.
Well, Kid heard about my comments and didn’t like it, at all. He
armed himself with a steak knife and came knocking on my door. My
bed was closest to the door, so I jumped up to answer it. When I
opened it, Kid lunged at me with the knife. My quick instincts took
over. I slammed the door shut on his arm with the knife. Kid tried in
vain to get at me, but Shane jumped up and helped me and rammed
the door on Kid’s wrist, making him drop the knife. The door broke
his wrist and he screamed like a scalded cat. That brought everyone
else out of their rooms to see what all of the noise was about.
Shane was more angry than I was. He grabbed the knife off of
the floor and opened the door. I had to grab him from going after Kid.
When Mike came rushing up to the scene and saw Shane with a knife
he thought Shane had stabbed Kid. Kid was sitting against the wall
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holding his broken and swollen wrist acting like the victim instead of
the attacker.
Everyone tried telling Mike what happened at the same time,

so it was total Kaos. Even the motel’s manager came out to see what
the hell was up. He told Mike we had to move out. That really pissed
off Mike, to the point of firing Kid on the spot, once he heard the story
from Shane. Mike cussed and yelled at everyone to “pack the fuck
up!” We all left Kid, sitting on his ass, and whining about his broken
wrist. Me, Shane, and Shawn packed up our storage trunks and
loaded them into the blazer.
Mike had one of the other drivers take Kid to the hospital, but
he didn’t force Kid to leave his job. He made Kid a driver of one of the
vans and told both of us that if we had any more altercations we were
basically fired. I had no problems with that ultimatum. Kid steered
clear of me, and I left him alone.
By the time we reached Virginia I had saved up a few grand and

was earning as much as the top earners on a daily basis. I was having
so much fun it was insane. We’d be done with our sales by noon and
then it was all about partying for the rest of the day. I was designated
as the “drug hound,” the dude that could find it in any town. It was
simple, just look for the area that the blacks lived in, and you’d find
the drugs.
Another moment to talk about was at Norfolk Naval Base. All

around the base were apartments and houses for the naval personnel
and families. I was dropped off at a set of apartments, by myself. I
hated doing door to door sales. I’d rather chase women in the parking
lots. At least, until, I had this experience…...
I knocked on the first door and it was opened by a woman just

a few years older than I was. She was wearing a pink bathrobe,
holding it closed at the neck as if she didn’t want anyone to see inside
her robe. Two little toddlers were sitting in front of the TV, watching
cartoons. I, immediately, began my spiel. She asked me to come inside
her apartment. I went in.
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I continued my spiel while standing just inside the doorway.

She said she was interested in the children’s magazines, and I showed
her what was available. I kept glancing at her face to try and read
whether she was going to buy anything or whether she was just
checking me out. She kept looking at my face like she knew me or
something. As I was still talking about what deals we had and what
charity she could donate to, she stopped me by placing her hand on
mine. She asked me if I had to be anywhere, anytime soon. I told her
that I wasn’t going to be picked up until noon. She said, “good! follow
me.” She told her kids to continue watching television as she led me
to her bedroom. She asked me if I’d have sex with her. It was a simple
as that. I said, “I’d love to.” And we got naked and had sex.
When it was over with she told me she was going crazy being
cooped up. Her husband was in the Navy and had been gone for the
past five months. She needed the release that I gave her. I said it
wasn’t a problem for me. I enjoyed it. She smiled and thanked me and
bought three magazine subscriptions.
I asked her if she had any friends in the complex that she could
steer me towards to help me sell some subscriptions to…. she said
she did. She called up a few women and explained what I was doing,
ahem. She wrote down three apartment numbers and gave me a kiss
goodbye. She told me to “have fun with her friends,” as well.
By noon, I had my quota and a big case of sore balls! Each

woman wanted the same kind of attention. I was totally tuckered out
by the time the blazer picked me up. Shane and Shawn said they, too
had similar experiences at the apartments they went to. We laughed
our asses off at Kid not being able to join in our fun. For the rest of
the week, we focused primarily on the surrounding apartment
complexes near the naval base. I swear I never went through so many
females in my life. What fun!
Sailor boys…… Just so you know... Thank you very much. You
left a lot of lonely, needy women at home for me, Shane, and Shawn.
God bless you!
I ended up quitting after I got arrested in the Winn-Dixie

parking lot. Shane and I were almost done with our daily quota when
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a cop pulled up behind me while I was talking to a man who was

fixing to buy a men’s health subscription. The cop got out of the car
and told the man that I was scamming him out of his money. I got
irate and the cop arrested me for “soliciting without a license.”
Later on, at jail, Mike showed up and refused to bail me out.

The magistrates told him I’d be released the next day with a $50 fine.
My bail was $600 cash, non-refundable since I wasn’t a resident of
Virginia. Mike told me to “ride it out until tomorrow.” That pissed me
off even more.
During the night, I decided to go back to Fort Lauderdale and

end my run with the crew.
The next day, I was released. Mike paid the $50 fine. I told him I
wasn’t willing to go to jail for a boss who wouldn’t bond his workers
out. He tried to persuade me to stay, but I had my mind made up.
Back at the motel, I packed my trunk of belongings and got my

money from Mike, and he drove me to the bus station. He paid for a
one-way ticket to Fort Lauderdale and wished me luck. Thus, ended
my career as a subscription salesman/scammer. Fort Lauderdale,
here I come. Again!!!! Sigh!!!!!
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T. L. Henry
Chapter 95
Coming back to Fort Lauderdale, I had no idea where I was

going to stay, what I was going to do. I had a little over three grand in
cash and I knew I wanted to get high. I thought about calling Milo to
buy some good cocaine, but I felt I needed to leave that avenue alone.
I also thought about calling my old roomie Joe to see if my room was
still available, but I didn’t want to get high in the dude’s condo. I
decided on calling The Fatman to see if he had any rooms available in
one of his houses. He did, so I claimed it.
I moved into a nice house with a pool, but I didn’t like the other
three renters, at all. The dude who ran the house was an uptight
asshole and the two girls who shared another room were gay lovers.
They were so stuck up it wasn’t funny. I’d go buy crack and lock
myself in my room, for days at a time. They complained to The
Fatman that I was doing drugs in my room and coming and going at
all hours. I ended up having an argument with the dude, to the point
of my wanting to kick his ass. I ended up going to a motel just so I
didn’t go to jail for hurting him.
The Fatman rented me a car, under his corporate account, so I

had wheels. I used the car for about a month. I ended up broke in just
a couple of weeks and had to sleep in the car, a lot. I didn’t know what
to do. I didn’t want to go crawling back to Howard Johnson’s to beg
Joe to give me a room and a job. I’m sure he would’ve done something
for me, but I felt ashamed for leaving him high and dry. Crack was
still calling my name, but I was determined to not go on a robbery
spree anymore. I ended up going to my old roomie Joe anyway.
I called him up and told him of my demise. He told me that he

hadn’t rented out the room yet and I was welcome to it. Besides, he
said, he had something he wanted to discuss with me. He wouldn’t
tell me anything, so I went to his condo to see what was up and to
move back in.
When I walked into the condo I could tell something was

wrong. For one, Joe was sitting on the sofa looking disheveled. He
was always clean-shaven and the condo neat. The place was a mess;
dirty dishes all over the coffee table, clothes all over the floor, and the
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place had a bad kitty litter smell. I asked him what was up and all he
said was, “Do you have any crack on ya?” UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!!!!
I looked at him in shock. This wasn’t the copy editor, neat as a

pin, nerdy dude that I remember. My first thought was his girlfriend
had left him. I asked him what was wrong, and he blatantly told me
he had incurable cancer and was going to die in less than six months.
You could've pushed me over with a pinky finger, I was in shock.
I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. I sat down in a chair

and just looking at the floor. What do you say to someone and that
kind of situation? I didn't know.
He asked me, again, if I had any crack and I said, “No. Why?” He
said he wanted to smoke some. I asked him when was the last time he
smoked crack and he said he had never smoked crack. He used to
shoot crystal meth. This shocked me even more, but who was I to
judge? I told him I could go buy some and he asked me how much
money I’d need.
I said, “whatever amount you want to smoke.” He gave me $100

and said, “hurry back!” Once again…UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!!!!
I went to my usual dope spot of 13th Ave. and 8th Street to see
my man, Maurice. I got a handful rocks and was off to Joes to get high.
We smoked crack all night long. We talked about his life and
mine, and what he was going to do. He confided in me that his
parents, who live in Michigan, were assholes to him most of his life.
He used to be a meth addict when he was younger and ran away from
home. He made it to Texas and had met a woman and fell in love. She
got him off of the meth and put him through community college, then
college, earning himself a degree. He used it to become a copy editor
for huge Dallas newspaper. Him and the woman fell apart, so he
moved to Fort Lauderdale and got a job with the Sun Sentinel. He was
loving life, and it was good. He said that’s why he let me move in,
knowing I was a drug addict. He knew I needed a chance. Talk about
hurting a honky’s heart!
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I asked him about his girlfriend, and he said when he found out
he had cancer he broke it off with her, saying he didn’t want to
burden her with having his problems on her shoulders. He didn’t tell
her he had cancer. He told her he had been cheating on her and doing
drugs to hurt her for her to stay away from him.
I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. We smoked up all the

crack and he sent me out for more. We smoked for two days straight.
He paid for it all.
I asked him who was going to help him get to doctor’s

appointments, and such, and he said he had a deal he wanted to run
by me…… Would I be willing to help him out until he was
hospitalized? In return, he’d give me his car, all of his possessions,
and even the stocks and bonds he had with the newspaper. Wow!
That was a lot. He said he had $100,000 in a life insurance policy that
he was going to try and sell for 60 grand cash, and he’d give me some
of that too. He just wanted to visit Hawaii before he died. I told him
I’d help him with anything he needed done. (The condo was a rental, I
later found out, so that was out of the deal.)
It was mid-April when all this occurred. I was only gone with
the magazine crew for about six weeks. Joe figured he’d be dead by
Christmas, but he went very quickly. By June he was hospitalized
because he couldn’t walk or hold his bodily fluids. I kept him at home
as long as I could. I did everything for him; I bathed him, cooked for
him, I took him to his medical appointments, and I even drove him to
the lawyer’s office to sign some paperwork that gave me everything
he said I could have. He wasn’t able to give me any of the hundred
grand, though. His mom and dad was contacted by someone at the
Sun Sentinel and they flew down from Michigan and put a stop to his
trying to sell the insurance policy. They deemed him “incompetent,”
but not before we signed the paperwork for what he gave me.
I came home from the hospital one day to find his parents
sitting on the sofa. I got irate and threatened to call the police on
them. They told me the condo’s manager had let them in, but I didn’t
give a shit.
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“What the fuck are you doing here?” I yelled. “You

motherfuckers don’t give a shit about Joe. You just want his fucking
money. Get the fuck out!” I screamed.
His mom was sobbing like a baby and the dad was pissed off,
but they left. A few minutes later the manager came in and told me I
had 30 days to vacate the condo. He said he never liked me, and I
said, “fuck you!” And slammed the door in his face.
I went to see Joe the next day. He was in a bad state. His
parents had gotten an order to transfer him, by medical helicopter,
back to Michigan. He wasn’t willing but what could he do? He gave
me all of his credit cards, checkbook, and his ATM card and the pin
numbers. He told me to “have fun.” I left the hospital with the
heaviest heart a person could ever have. I cried as I was sitting in his
Pontiac Grand Am (now mine) in the hospital parking lot. I was losing
a friend who only wanted to help me. That was the last time I ever
saw Joe. He was flown back to Michigan the next day. He died two
weeks later.
As for me, I called up The Fatman and sold him the entire
condos belongings for five grand, everything: TV, VCR, living room
suit, bedroom sets, dining room table and chairs, weight set, stereo,
everything! I ended up knocking on Joe’s girlfriend’s door and handed
her Joe’s cat. She was in a bad state too, having just recently found
out that Joe lied to her. She took the cat and I said, “Goodbye!”
I had The Fatman rent me another room for a month, and I

wasted all of Joe’s credit cards by buying stuff to trade for crack. I
smoked, and smoked, and smoked, until I was able to put Joe out of
my mind. Even today, I still shed tears over my buddy. Rest in peace,
bro! Thanks for the love!
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Chapter 96
When I racked up every penny from the credit cards, and ATM
card, and the money received from the condo sales, I had no idea
what to do. I wouldn’t receive any of the stock money for at least 90
days, the lawyer said. I was given an address to the stocks and bond
company in Chicago for any change of address purposes. Since I
wasn’t to see any of that money, I had no idea what I’d do until they,
“matured” and the check was cut. I called up Milo to see if he would
help me.
He offered me one expense, a one-way bus ticket back to North

Carolina. With no other options left to me, I sold the Grand Am to a
drug dealer for $500 worth of crack and smoked it up. When it was
gone, I took Milo up on the offer. In June of 1990 I went home to see if
I could try and get myself off crack.
Once again, I had Red pick me up at the bus station. He had a

vague idea of where Mom lived, so we drove through a couple a
trailer parks until we found her. She was living on the outskirts of
Hilderbran, bordering the town of Morganton, North Carolina. The
trailer Park had about 15 mobile homes in it. Moms was the first one
as you pulled into the lot.
Needless to say, she wasn’t that thrilled at seeing me. She was
back with her off-again, on-again husband, Wade. I liked Wade. He
was good to mom, but she was a bitch to him. Wade had just received
a huge payment from the VA and was splurging it all on mom. She
was good and drunk when I came in the trailer. I asked Wade, not
Mom, if I could stay with them until I got a job and a place to live.
Wade said it wasn’t a problem, but Mom wasn’t too enthused. She
gave in when Wade told her that he paid all the bills and he’ll let
“whoever the fuck he wants to live there.” That shut her up. I moved
into the one of the spare bedrooms. Believe me, I wasn’t too happy
about being in Mom’s presence either. I totally disliked her due to our
past, but I needed a place to live.
Uncle Rob lived in a trailer a couple lots behind them. If I had to

I’d go, there but Wade wasn’t having it. He still appreciated me for
when I left him, Mom and May stay with me, back in the day. Even if I
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did kick them out due to Mom’s drunkenness, he remembered that I

paid for their rent until his check came in. He even offered to give me
a loan until I got on my feet. He had a couple grand in a bank account,
but I refused any money. Just letting me stay there was enough for
me.
Believe me, it crossed my mind to “borrow” a grand and flee

back to Fort Lauderdale to get high, but I held strong and didn’t abuse
his generosity.
The very next day, Wade lent me his Ford Maverick so I could
go in search of a job. I was so determined to work that I got a job at
the very first place I applied. A brand-new restaurant called Hams
was hiring cooks. I sold myself as the “great” cook and was told I’d
start work the following Monday. Then I drove home with the news,
and everyone was happy. Wade offered to lend me his car to drive
back and forth to work. God bless him.
That week I hung out at Uncle Rob’s place. He lived with his
son, Skeeter. Uncle Rob would “party” in a weird way. He’d buy
himself some beer, or liquor, open his front door, and put on some
country music, put on his Harley clothing and eyepatch, and get to
drinking. He’d do all of this in hopes that someone, anyone, would
stop by to party with him. Since I was there, he even put on a
barbecue. How nice of him!
As we were in the narrow strip of the yard, cooking hotdogs

and hamburgers, a girl drove by in a cream-colored Pontiac Sunbird.
She was pretty in a down and, country sort of way, so I waved at her.
She waved back and smiled. When she passed the trailer, I asked
Uncle Rob who she was he said she was a “kept girl”, meaning a girl
that a man put up in a trailer to live, as a mistress. The girl was as old
as I was, 22, but her, “sugar daddy” was in his 60s. To me she was
nothing more than a prostitute, so I wanted to meet her. Uncle Rob
told me her mom lived in a trailer at the end of the park and she had
another daughter, but Rob said he was trying to get with her. I told
Rob to send Skeeter over to her mom’s trailer to fetch her sister. I
questioned her about the Pontiac girl.
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The girl that came to Uncle Rob's place looked nothing like the
blonde-haired girl in the Pontiac…. different dads I was told. Lisa was
dark-haired and skinny as a rail, but pretty. She checked me out and I
her. Uncle Rob kept trying to act like he was dating her, but she kept
trying to maneuver away from him. He was drunk and trying to paw
on her.
I asked her about her sister. She said she lived alone in one of
the trailers, but it was paid for by an older man. The girl’s name was
Missy. I asked Lisa to get Missy to come over so I could meet her. She
went and got her.
Missy was a good-looking girl with a fine body. She was pure-
country and very naïve. I flirted with her for a while until a rusty, old
tow truck drove past Rob’s trailer. Missy said she had to leave and
told me she would talk to me the next day. I looked out Uncle Rob’s
back door window to see what the “old man” looked like. Sure
enough, he was old. I put it into my mind to take her away from the
old dude and make her mine. Uncle Rob, the scary bitch that he is,
tried to tell me that the old man was a diehard hillbilly and would kill
me if he found out I was sniffing around his pussy. Ha! I love a
challenge!
I began work at Hams and all was good. I had to work the
breakfast shift and the lunch shift, so I had the evenings off. That’s the
times I’d used to “sniff around” Missy. It didn’t take me but about a
week to get her to give up some sex. She was embarrassed at being
the old man’s “sex toy” and her mom and sister urged her to dump
him for me. Missy didn’t have a job because I later found out, she was
just plain lazy. She had two beautiful little girls from some good old
boy but left her family for the old man. I couldn’t understand that at
all, but who was I to judge. I just wanted Missy for sex, not marriage.
After two weeks of dodging the old man, I finally gave Missy
the ultimatum…. kick the senior citizen to the curb and I’ll move in
or…. have a nice life. I gave her a few days to decide. It didn’t take that
long. The next day she was professing her love for me. She said she
was scared that the old dude would shoot me, so I borrowed an old
sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun from one of Uncle Rob’s friend and sat in
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Missy’s living room to await the dude. Missy said she would go
outside and talk to him while I waited inside.
Dude showed up that evening for his daily romp. Missy went
outside and told him that she was done with him. He called her all
sorts of bad names and asked to meet me. I opened the trailer door
and left the shotgun leaning against the wall, just inside the doorway.
The dude called me a homewrecker, but I just laughed at him. He
rushed to his truck to retrieve his gun, but by the time he got to the
truck’s door I already had the sawed-off shotgun aiming at him. Missy
got between us, and I told him just to leave and forget about her. She
told him to go home to his wife and kids and let her have a normal
life. He looked at me with hatred in his eyes, but I didn’t care with
that shotgun in my hands. He got into his truck and told Missy that if
she ever needed anything she was to call him. He then looked at me
in a defeated manner and said, “son, you best take good care of her,
ya hear?!” I said, “I’d do my best,” and he left the trailer park.
When I received my next paycheck, I moved in with Missy. The

rent was due, so she took me to the landlord’s trailer, and I had the
manager put my name on the lease.
It was all right living with Missy. She kept the trailer clean, and
she could cook. We got along okay, and the sex was good and steady.
Her sister came over a lot, so to occupy her, I called up my friend Billy
and told him I had a girl who needed his attention. He was over that
evening. After we smoked a bunch of pot, Missy and I called it a night
and left Billy to deal with Lisa. He did!
I didn’t last long at Hams. I just couldn’t seem to get my stoned,

the night before, ass out of bed in time to get to work at 5 a.m. I
arrived twice at around 6 a.m., so they “let me go”, as in “fired.” I
wasn’t too upset over it, but Missy showed her true colors as soon as
I came home with the news. She freaked out and started to whine
about paying the rent, buying groceries, paying the light bill, because
her “mama co-signed for it, she’d be pissed if she had to pay it.” Me,
not wanting to hear anymore of her whining I borrowed her car and
went in search of a job. She sure as hell wasn’t going to look for one.
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Once again, I got a job the very first place I went to. The Omelet
Shop, next to Highway 64–70, across the street from the Ramada Inn,
had a huge sign that said, “hiring cooks.” The place was run by a
woman and only women worked there. Upon meeting the manager,
she flirted with me, relentlessly. I smiled and made lots of eye contact
just to get the job, which was easy to achieve. She said she needed to
hire me to be “politically correct.” I was to be the cook on the night
shift, from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., working towards a night manager
position.
I went back with good news that stopped Missy’s panic attacks.
I felt she was lazy as hell, but she could clean a trailer and the sex was
decent, so I didn’t stress as hard as I should have, that she, too, should
find work. She kept saying she had zero work experience and refused
to go to McDonald’s, or some other fast-food joint that could have
taught her a skill. She was just a dumb, country girl who wanted to be
kept. I was the dumb hard-working (and hard partying) guy who was
smitten by her pure, good-looking country girl sexiness, that I didn’t
mind at first.
Working at the Omelet Shop was a trip. Some nights, I’d be

swamped frying up eggs, hash browns and steaks. Other nights, I’d be
bored out of my mind. On the nights when the Ramada Inn had an
Elvis impersonator or some other great musician, we got the after-
party people that were drunk and rowdy and wanted to scarf up
some food. I’d be sweating all over the fry grill for at least three
hours, but it always went well, especially when I became the center of
attention for all the women coming into the place.
There was one woman especially. She was a 50-year-old big-

boned, full bodied, not bad looking, and drunk as hell. She came in
almost every Friday night, early Saturday morning, having just been
at the Ramada. A couple of times she came in with different dates.
One night, she came in alone and I was the center of her attention.
She plopped her tight-fitting jeans and her loose, flowing, silk
shirt wearing self at the counter and ordered up a “big ole slice of that
cook.” The waitress, a college girl from Appalachian State University,
teased me about this woman every time she came in and called out
the woman’s order, “big ole slice of that cook!” It got the rest of the
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diners to hoot and holler with all sorts of jokes. Being a good sense of
humor kind of guy, I laughed it up with everyone else. The lady just
wouldn’t leave me alone, though. She made comments to me, behind
my back. Throughout the entire rush hour.
When I finally got everyone’s order cooked, and could take a

breather, I went out back for a smoke break. To my surprise, the lady
came out back, too. She came up to me and blatantly asked me how
much I’d charge her to go home with her. I looked at her like she
wasn’t serious, but I could see she was serious. I told her I had a
girlfriend I went home to every day. She said she didn't want to sleep
with my girlfriend, she wanted to sleep with me. I laughed at her and
told her she was drunk, and I give her all of the coffee that she
wanted for free, if she’d just go back inside. She asked me if I was
scared of money and I told her, “hell no!” She then said she’d give me
$100 to go home with her. I laughed at her, and she said, “$200!” I
laughed again, not taking her serious. Then she got frustrated and
said, “$500!” I told her that she needed to go home and sleep off her
buzz. She wasn’t having it. She went back into the restaurant and sat
in her seat, staring at me like a tiger looking at a gazelle.
By 5 a.m., and at least 5 cups of coffee, she was still there. I

asked her if she needed a cab, but she just laughed. She said she
drove the brand-new caddy sitting in the parking lot. She pulled out
her checkbook and wrote out a $500 check and slid it across the
counter to me. I looked at her and she stared at me. I took the check,
folded it up and put it in my pocket, calling her bluff.
I had Missy’s car, so I told the lady, “I’ll follow you when I get
off at 7 a.m.”. She smiled and sipped her coffee.
My shift ended, I left and followed the lady into the countryside
of Morganton. We pulled up to a huge house with a huge yard. This
woman was serious I thought.
Inside her house she wasted no time. She pounced on me and

had me naked by the time I got to her bedroom. When she got naked,
she was amazingly well proportioned for a big girl. Huge hits, huge
ass, but a very pretty pussy. We had fun for a couple of hours, and I
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left her asleep. I went directly to her bank and cashed the check. It
was good.
At home, Missy was waiting on me. She was pissed off, with
questions, until I told her to shut up and make a grocery list. I told her
I robbed the Omelet Shoppe by keeping the cash for coffee. She shut
up then. All was well until disaster struck.
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Chapter 97
I had to come home from work one day and was told to go to
Mom’s trailer. Upon walking in the door Wade was sitting on the sofa
with his head shaved. Usually, he had a mop of hair or slicked back
with some pomade. It was a surprise to see him shaved. I asked him
why the haircut and he said he had to shave it so the doctors could
check his brain. He had all sorts of cancer running throughout his
body he said. His brain, his lungs, his liver, his stomach, etc. he had
less than six months to live. I was floored. “Not again!” I thought.
This was twice in less than six months that someone was gonna
die of cancer that I knew and liked. What was going on around me?
My immediate reaction was anger. Mom, and all her drunken

stupidness, would sit in her chair and yell and curse at Wade while
she drank. He’d be in his back bedroom watching TV, or smoking Pall
Malls, trying to get Mom to put on a negligee and give him some sex.
Mom would yell at him that she wished he’d go ahead and die, so she
could spend his money. Be careful what you wish for!
Anyway, I got teary-eyed and left. I didn’t want him to see me

cry like a little kid. Missy wouldn’t comfort me because she had no
idea of what I was feeling. I got mad at her and left. I took her car, and
I went into Hickory to try and find some crack. I needed to fry my
brain of this madness that called itself life.
I ended up at Red’s house because I felt I needed my best friend

to get high with. We found a spot to buy some crack. We bought $100
worth, and this began another binge. We got high most of the
evening, but I went into work that night, high as a kite. I had Red
going back and forth to the dope spot to buy some crack. I took
“breaks” every 15 to 20 min., so I could sit in Red’s car to smoke. Red
ended up leaving at 6 a.m., after a night of nonstop smoking. He had a
job and needed to be there by 7 a.m. By the time I got home from
work I was ready for another hit. I had stolen $40 from the register.
No one would be the wiser because coffee wasn’t on the list of, “noted
goods” that we used. I could make coffee and sell coffee all of the
time.
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I had my new dope spot. I woke up the dude I had met. His
name was BJ and he lived in what’s called JoAnn Fabrics Apartments,
off of highway 127. It was in the hood, just up the street from where I
lived as a kid when we were living in the hood. BJ was glad to make
the sale, so he didn’t get too mad at me. He said Red had kept him up
most of the night. I got some tiny rocks, compared to the dope I got in
Fort Lauderdale, but I didn’t complain.
When I got home, Missy was upset with me for taking her car
and not telling her where I was going. I pulled out the crack and told
her I was out getting high. She immediately asked about my job, and I
calmed her fears by letting her know I went to work. She said she
called the Omelet Shop, but no one answered. I knew that because I
had unplugged the phone in the manager’s office when I hid in it to
smoke a hit. I told her we were too busy to answer it. She seemed
skeptical, but she acted like she bought it. I went into our back
bedroom and smoked up the rocks until they were gone. I smoked a
joint and then lied down to sleep.
This began my smoking cocaine, all over again. I’d work, steal
money, and go out smoking with Red. It got so sweet at work that I
got Red to quit his job and come be a waiter. He had zero experience,
but he gave it a shot. We stole all sorts of stuff to sell the BJ. He
accepted dozens of eggs, pounds of bacon and sausages, and had as
many T-bone steaks that I could bring him. In the span of just a
couple of weeks we must’ve stolen a few grand worth of goods, not
counting the coffee money.
Being the head cook had its advantages. When the waitresses
or waiter was busy I’d run to the register, which was directly behind
the grill. I’d flip eggs and turn around to deal with a check at the same
time. Fast and hard work, but the cash was worth it.
About this time, Wade got hospitalized. He had trouble

breathing due to his smoking and the cancer in his lungs, they
admitted him for his duration. He had lost about 30 pounds and was
very weak.
On the day, I went to visit him he begged me to get him a

cigarette. We both knew that hospital had regulations for that sort of
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thing but fuck them. I felt that this dude was one of the best dude’s
Mom had ever had as a husband, but all she did was make his life
miserable. All he wanted was a smoke, and by God I’d give it to him. It
wasn’t like he wasn’t already dying of cancer. I went out of the
hospital and bought him a pack of Pall Malls. I put a chair in front of
the room’s door to stop anyone from coming in. I pushed his bed next
to the window and opened it up so he could blow the smoke outside.
He lit up a Pall Mall and I lit up a Marlboro Light. He was a happy
camper for about 10 min. When he couldn’t stop coughing I pushed
his bed back into position and aired out the room as best I could.
Wade said, “Bless you, Tommy! I said, “Not a problem!” and left
him before he seen me crying I had love for old Wade. He was the
best person to ever come into my bitch of a mother’s life. And she
never appreciated it.
Wade died shortly thereafter. They had a 21-gun salute at his

graveside, well three guns, shot seven times. I cried, again.
Mom wasn’t too happy with me since I had snapped on her at

the funeral home. She was playing, “the grieving widow role” to the
hilt and put on a front for Wade’s family and friends. After I walked
away from Wade’s casket I saw her getting condolences and such. I
snapped. I walked straight over to her and told her in front of
everyone, “well, bitch, you got what you wished for! You wished
Wade dead and there he lies. I hope you choke on his VA money, you
worthless whore!”, and I went outside to try and calm down.
I hadn’t talked to Mom again for a long time. She ended up

getting her just rewards. One of the VA checks landed into hers and
Wade’s joint account. Mom withdrew all of the money because she
knew the VA didn’t know he was dead yet. When they did find out she
had to pay it all back. It took her six months of living in the gutter to
get her VA benefits back, due to her theft. She ended up getting what
she wanted, though…...more government money to take care of her
for the rest of her life. She still carries Wade’s last name to this day to
collect the VA’s “widow” checks.
As for me and Missy, I was still on a downhill spiral. I was

working, every night, just to steal so I could get high the next day. Our
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refrigerator and cupboards were always empty, so Missy’s parents

had to help us. Things changed drastically though one night.
I had gotten paid my weekly paycheck and called up Red. We

cashed our checks and went to the dope man. BJ loaded us up, and
Red and I went cruising in his 1979 Camaro. We’d gone cruising on
all of the dirt roads all around Lake Hickory. He and I had the day off,
so we lost track of time as we cruised and smoked. By 3 a.m., we were
broke and ready to call it a night. Red took me to retrieve Missy’s car
at the Omelet Shop. He laughed and I went home.
Upon entering the trailer Missy jumped up off of the sofa and
asked me where the hell I had been all day, and all night. I told her I’d
been with Red getting high. Why lie, right? She asked if I had any
money left and I said no. She did the dumbest thing she could ever do
to me…. She slapped me.
Seeing instant red-rage I grabbed her by the throat and walked

her up onto the sofa pinning her head to the wall. I put my nose to her
nose and said, “If you ever put your hands on me again, I’ll kill you, do
you hear me?” All she could do was mumble “yes!” I told her I’d been
beaten and stomped by women my whole fucking life and I was not
going to accept it from her. I let her go and told her to go and call the
cops if she wanted to, I didn’t care. She sat on the sofa and cried. Not
caring about her any longer I went to our bedroom and went to sleep.
She didn’t call the cops, or her dad. She fell asleep on the sofa. The
next morning, she woke me up saying a Federal Express person was
at the door. Groggily, I went to see what was up. The FedEx person
had an envelope for me to sign for. I got my ID and signed for the
envelope. I knew what it was and if I’d had had any brains at all I’d
have packed my bags and left, but…... No brains! I opened the
envelope in front of Missy. It was a cashier’s check for $24,081 from
the trust company that Joe had stock investments. Dammit man!
Like an idiot, I hugged Missy and told her to get dressed. “We’re
going to the bank!”
In 5 minutes, we were in the car and racing to a small bank in

Hilderbran. I deposited half the check into a split account for
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checking and savings. The rest, I got in cash and travelers checks. Fort
Lauderdale, here I come!
Missy apologized for slapping me. I told her to shut up about it

and let’s move on. I wanted to buy myself a car and go party.
I had been eyeing and 81 El Dorado for two grand at a buy here
pay here lot. That was the first place we went. With no fuss at all, I
gave her the two grand and transferred Missy’s insurance
information to the caddy. I had wrecked her car a week before, on a
crack cruise, and I promised to pay it off for her. I bought the caddy
and paid off her Sunbird. We parked the Sunbird at Uncle Rob’s place.
Next, we went to the mall. I bought a whole new wardrobe for

both of us. I even bought some jewelry and let Missy get her hair
done.
Afterwards, we went to her mom’s workplace to give her mom

$200 that we owed her for back rent and groceries. I told her mom I
was taking Missy to Fort Lauderdale for two weeks. She begged me to
be careful with her daughter. I said I would.
I told Missy I was going to get some crack. She told me to take
her with me, and I did. I bought all the crack to BJ had…...About $300
worth, which was only about $50 worth in Florida. I got us a motel
room at the Holiday Inn, so we could party in private. Now that
everyone knew I had money I didn’t want to get high in the trailer.
Besides, I wasn't planning on paying rent. I was planning on getting
out of that trailer park. It was too close for comfort for me. Too many
family members being nosy with their hands out.
I wanted to get high without any hassles. I called up Red and

had him come over. Me, him, and Missy partied throughout the night.
Missy took her first hit, that night. Crack made her horny, so I had to
take her in the bathroom to quell her appetite. Red just laughed at me
when I came out, all sweaty and out of breath. He gave me a
knowingly smile. He knew of my past escapades of women and felt
that Missy was just another notch in my proverbial bedpost. He
wasn’t wrong.
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The next day, I took two weeks off from work. I let the manager
know that I had to go to Florida for “personal reasons.” She hated the
short notice, but she had no choice. I told her I had to go, even if it
meant I lost my job. She gave me the two weeks off.
Next, I went to see about buying a mobile home. Missy and I

went to a place on 64–70 Hwy, that had been there forever. I put
$2000 down on a two-bedroom, two bath, trailer. All I had to do was
find a lot for it and they’d move it. First, though I had to pass a credit
check. That would take a week I was told. I said I’d see them when I
got back from Florida.
I took the car to a garage to get it tuned up, the oil changed, the
tires rotated, etc. it had to be ready for the long drive. When that was
completed, we went grocery shopping.
Mom had been doing poorly ever since Wade died. She was
forced to move out of her trailer and into a raggedy, should’ve been
condemned house, at the bottom of the trailer Park. She had to rely
on welfare to pay her rent and feed her, but…. As Mom is Mom, she
drank most of her money. Why I felt sorry for her worthless ass, I’ll
never know. I pulled into her driveway with a hundred dollars in
groceries plus a case of Budweiser.
Since I didn’t pay our rent for the next week, Missy and I moved
our stuff out of the trailer. We stored most of the stuff at her parent’s
place. I asked Mom if we could sleep at her place, overnight, since I
was leaving for Florida the next morning. She said we could sleep in
her bedroom. Mom had a whole case of beer to drink. She wouldn’t
sleep till it was gone.
I also paid Mom’s rent for a month. Once again I don’t know
why. I did it in private and asked the landlord to not say anything
until she came to pay the rent.
That night, Missy and I went to bed after smoking crack. We

smoked some weed to bring us down. I had asked Mom to wake us up
at 6 a.m. so we could get an early start, but by the time we awoke it
was after 9 a.m.! Mom was sitting on the sofa smashed out of her
mind. She drank the entire case of Budweiser. All I could do was
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shake my head at the sight of her. Besides…. I gave her the beer, what
did I expect?
When I roused Mom and told her we were leaving she

mumbled about wanting some money. I told her I had given her all
the money I was going to give her. She got irate and started calling
me all sorts of, “assholes” and “son of a bitches,” and told me that I
owed her for bringing me into this world. I told her, thanks for
nothing! I left her on the sofa, slobbering all over herself.
Missy and I got in the caddy and headed southeast, bound for I-
95 and sunny Fort Lauderdale. Crazy fucking and family!
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Chapter 98
We arrived in Fort Lauderdale around 10 p.m. that night. Missy

and I traded off driving so we could drive straight through. Missy was
extra excited about seeing Fort Lauderdale. She’d never left the state
of North Carolina her entire life, so it was fun to see her enjoying the
sights. I drove us to the beach and booked us a room at the Jolly
Roger motel on A-1-A for week.
After we got settled into our room I gave Milo a call. I told him
where I was located and that I wanted an ounce of coke and an ounce
of his famed Jamaican Ganja. He told me he’d be by the room and an
hour, so I took Missy and drove over to my old crack spot on 13th
Ave. and 8th Street to buy some rocks from Maurice. I then, went by
Joys-R-Us on Andrews Avenue to purchase a glass pipe and some
super cube torches. After that, I went to a supermarket and bought a
whole box of Brillo.
Back at the room Missy and I got high until Milo stopped by.
When he left, I began cooking up the coke and gave Missy a real good
hit of some real good shit. We got naked and got freaky for the next
24 hours.
Sometime during the next day, I gave Missy $100 and told her
to go for a walk along the beach. We smoked some weed to come
down enough for us to function and she was excited about the outing.
But not too excited when I told her I had to go and see someone about
some business.
Missy had some personal issues on trust and didn’t want me to

go off “to whore around with any of my past girlfriends,” she claimed.
She was almost on point, too. I was off to see T, my fuck friend, who
also smoked crack. I eased her mind and pushed her down the
sidewalk on a very beautiful July day.
When I met T at our usual motel on Sunrise Boulevard we got

hot and sweaty, with the been missing you sex. I had purchased a
baggie full of crack from her for very cheap. By the time I got back to
The Jolly Roger Missy was back. We continued to get high.
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For almost 2 weeks we got wasted and was broke. We had to

call her mom and have her mom Western Union us $200 just to get
back home on. My checkbook and ATM card was at her mom’s trailer,
so that had to await our return. I couldn’t believe we spent over 10
grand in less than two weeks, but that wasn’t anything compared to
what went down back in Hickory.
When we got back I apologized to Missy’s mother for her

inconvenience, but she said, “Not to worry about it.” I wrote her mom
a check for $300. She was happy. I drove Missy and I to the bank and
withdrew a couple of grand from my checking account. I had six
grand in savings, and now four grand in checking. I knew this wasn’t
going to last, but I had a bit of hope that I’d stop smoking after a
couple of days. Ha! Yeah right!
We got a room at the Hickory Motor Lodge, on 64–70 Hwy for a

week. I went to see BJ and bought all of the crack he had on hand. I
told him my room number and told him to keep it coming. He was a
happy camper. Missy and I smoked and smoked and smoked. We only
came up for air when we got hungry, and Domino’s was just across
the street. We were good.
Since crack was a lot smaller in size in Hickory, my money ran

out a lot quicker. In just a couple days I was already trying to figure
out what to do when the money was gone. I didn’t have to worry
about the check I gave to the mobile home lot for a down payment on
the trailer my credit was no good, so they never cashed the check. But
Missy and I had nowhere to live, and I didn’t want to go back to the
trailer Park. I felt ashamed for having spent all of that money on
crack and not thinking of a roof over my head. But…... That’s how a
crackhead thinks. “One more hit and I’m done!” Not!
When all the money was finally spent, I realized I still had my
checks. A box of them, to be exact. 150 bank checks with my name all
over them. Tommy Kaos told Missy not to worry, “I’d cash a check
and we’d be fine.” I found a mom-and-pop store and filled the car
with gas, bought us some cigarettes and some snack food, and wrote
a check for $50 over the amount of my purchase. The cashier asked
me for my ID and that was that. I had $50 in cash, a full tank of gas
and a fresh Marlboro Light hanging out of my lips…. time to go see BJ.
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Thus, began a binge of check writing and crack smoking. It

became a job of sorts. I realized that I didn’t want to go to check
writing during the day because the banks would open and would be
notified or called, to verify checks. I’d wait until 5 p.m. to go out and
cruise all sorts of places that I figured would give me cash on top of
my purchases. To get more than the cash I had acquired, I’d get a list
of things that BJ, and his friends wanted, and I’d go buy that, too. I
bought everything from big wheels to radar detectors, to
dishwashers, to washers and dryers. I was paid 50% of those
purchases in crack.
Missy and I were basically living in the caddy. We got to cruise

the same dirt roads that Red, and I would cruise while smoking.
When the funds ran out, we’d wait for evening so we could go check
writing again. Our new dilemma…the checks were going dry, too. I
only had a couple left, so we tried to figure out where to cash them
for the most advantage. We ended up using them at a couple of 24-
hour Super Marts that gave you up to $50 cash, on top of the
purchases. I bought close to $300 worth of steak, booze, and
cigarettes at each store. BJ bought it all. Missy and I parked the caddy
next to the lake and smoked until it was all gone.
Broke, hungry, pissed off at myself and with no idea what to do

now, we decided to try and sell the caddy. We took the car to the buy
here, pay here lot that sold Missy her Pontiac. She said the guy who
owned the place was a friend of her dads and would give us a good
deal. After all was said and done he gave us an all-beat-to-hell Honda
Civic and $400 for the caddy. I hadn’t had the car for but about six
weeks, and that’s what I got for my investment. Stupid me!
Of course, we drove right over to BJ and bought some crack. We

did our usual and drove the dirt roads until the dope and money was
gone. With no other options, Missy said she would go and see her
sister’s ex-husband and see if he’d let us crash at his place. He was
asleep so we parked in front of the trailer and fell asleep.
The next morning Missy had an idea. She said her real father
lived in a nice house and collected guns. She said that he and his wife
both worked, and we’d be able to break into the house and steal his
gun collection. She knew right where they kept them and his stash of
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money. I only had one problem with that plan.... A few days earlier
she had me drive over to her dad’s place and she begged him for
some money. He gave her $100 which of course, we smoked up. The
problem was I felt bad about breaking into his home. I didn’t know
why but I did. I suggested that we hit his garage and take stuff that
we could pawn or sell. Missy gave in and we only stole some power
equipment and fishing gear.
After selling and pawning the goods at various places, we got a

room at the motel lodge so we could bath and have a good night’s rest
for a change. We ate and then smoked up the rest of the money. By 9
p.m. we were done.
By 10 p.m. we were coming down off our high when we got a

knock on the door. Missy answered it. It was a Morganton police
officer asking for me. He said he was investigating a break-in at
Missy’s dad’s house and asked if I knew anything about it. Of course, I
said no. He said that there were warrants for my arrest in Hickory for
bad checks, but since he was there about a breaking and entering he
couldn’t arrest me. He told me to “sit tight” while he called a Hickory
cop to come and get me. I closed the door and knew my smoking days
were over.
Missy freaked out. “she declared to kill her father,” and “she’d
love me forever,” and “she’d bond me out”, yada yada, yada. I told her
to take the car and go to her mom’s place. I’d call her when I got the
chance. She cried and kissed me and left before the Hickory cop got
there.
There wasn’t anywhere for me to run to, so I stretched out on

the bed and smoked a cigarette. What the fuck was I gonna do? I
smoked up a lot of money. I ruined my life and got Missy hooked on
crack. I had nothing and no one to turn to. I was a mess. Tommy Kaos
was a complete disaster in my eyes. I figured my next step was
suicide, but I wasn’t ready for that just yet. Maybe before I was
sentenced to go back to prison, I’d sliced my wrist or hang myself, I
thought. Anything to end this madness that I was constantly putting
myself through. I didn’t know. We’ll see!
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After a while, the Hickory cop got there. I had given Missy all of
my belongings, so all I had to my name was the clothes on my back
and my wallet with various photos and IDs. The cop arrested me for
writing worthless checks and carted me off to the Hickory jail. I was
booked and told that an officer would be around to my cell the next
day to serve me all the summons I was facing. He said there were
many. Yeah…. At least 150 of them.
Sure enough, the cop came with a huge stack of paperwork just
for me. The summons was for my first appearance in court on certain
days to face the check charges. I made it easy on the cop by telling
him he didn’t have to re-read all the separate summons. “Just tell me
where to sign each one.” I said. The cop thanked me and set about the
task of giving me 89 summons, on the first day. I received 32 more on
the next day. Same cop.
The following Sunday, while lying in my bunk reading

“Interview with A Vampire” by Anne Rice, some hypocrite Christians
came in our cellblock to preach the word of God. At first, I shunned
the few dudes who were preaching by staying in my bunk reading.
But my heart felt heavy and with no other explanation to give, I was
“urged from within” to get up and asked for a Bible. The dude I asked
for a Bible asked if he could pray for me and I let him. When they left,
I opened the Bible to the New Testament and met Jesus. For the first
time, I closed my eyes and prayed to be helped before I killed myself.
I begged for forgiveness and to be shown a way to clean up this mess
that I called a life. Not knowing what was going on I felt a huge weight
being lifted off of my shoulders and I felt happy to be in that cell. To
me it was the craziest nonsense I’d ever felt, but it was real to me. I
used to persecute the hypocrites called Christians, but if this is how it
felt to be a Christian, then I was ready for it.
On the phone, I told Missy I had found God and was “saved.”
She didn’t know how to take it, but she said she still loved me. She
said everyone hated me for getting her on crack and for blowing all of
my money, but I told her I didn’t care. None of that mattered. I told
her God would sort it all out and she needed to pray. “We had
nowhere to go but up”, I told her. She cried and so did I.
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I laid in my bunk and asked for guidance concerning the check

charges. It came to me in a simple statement…. “Just tell the truth!”
And that’s exactly what I did.
At my court hearing, the courtroom was packed with

representatives from all the places I had written checks to. They all
looked at me like I killed their company or something. When the
judge asked me what I was thinking, writing 121 worthless checks, I
told him the truth…. I was hooked on crack and me and my girlfriend
were living in my car. I sold a lot of the goods for crack to just plain
survive. I then went on to tell the judge I was sorry for what I had
done and would like to address the representatives in the courtroom.
The judge allowed me to speak to them and I apologized to them. In
tear filled eyes I could say that I was a crack addict and had met Jesus
in jail. I then turned to the judge and told him that I wanted to pay
these people their money back, but I knew going back to prison
wouldn’t get them paid. If I was given a chance, I’d work two jobs,
three if I had to, to pay off all those checks. The judge looked at me
and told me to have a seat while he thought about my demise. I had
wiped my eyes and sat down without any worries in my heart.
After the judge settled a couple of cases he called for me to

stand up. He told me he had never heard anyone say those things I
had said, and he felt that I was being very truthful. He told me he was
going to place me on five years’ probation with measures to help me
pay off everyone in the courtroom. You could have knocked me down
with a feather. I thanked him and was led away.
That evening I talked to Missy. I told her what was done and
that I’d be released the very next morning at 6 a.m. She said she’d be
at the jail to pick me up. She said she had to use her mom’s car
because the Honda blew an O-ring or something to that effect. She
said her insurance company gave her $81 back so we had that. What
we didn’t have was a place to live. I told Missy I’d call my Aunt Nikki
and see if I could live with her until I got a job and enough money to
get my own place.
That evening, Aunt Nikki said it’d be okay for Missy and I to
stay with her and her old man. They were both alcoholics, but what
could I do? They lived in a small two-bedroom trailer in a very small
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town called Rhodhiss: A very short drive through Burke just behind a
shopping center. Aunt Nikki said she could get us jobs with her at the
cotton mill. Things were looking up for us.
Like clockwork I was released at 6 a.m. Missy climbed into my

arms when I stepped out of the Hickory police station. She asked me
where I wanted to go, and I told her to drive to the lake. I needed
some sex.
After a romp in her mom’s car, we went to Shoney’s for the

breakfast bar. Missy gave me the $81 and confessed to me that she
still craved crack. I told her to get it out of her mind. I felt really bad
about that, damn it. I was the reason she got on it and I knew the
craving she had. But at this point in time, I was so over crack, I
wanted nothing to do with it. I calmed her fears of our going right
back at it. We ate breakfast and headed to Aunt Nikki’s place.
As we went around the downward sloping, curved road that

led to the trailer park, I was confused, at first. Where Aunt Nikki’s
trailer sat was nothing but a pile of smoking rubble. The trailer, her
car, and the tiny shed the sat next to the trailer was nothing but ash. I
couldn’t believe it.
We pulled up next to the rubble and I got out of the car. A

neighbor came out of her trailer to tell me that Aunt Nikki and her
boyfriend got out of the trailer with no harm and was staying down
the road at the boyfriend’s family home. She gave me directions and I
was off.
I found the house and was glad to see Aunt Nikki safe. She
apologized for not being able to give us a place to stay, but my heart
wasn’t worried about that. I was thankful she was safe.
Back in the car Missy cried, “What are we gonna do now?” For
some odd reason, I felt at peace. Maybe it was God or Jesus or
whatever, but I felt fine. I told Missy to, “quit crying. God will give me
a place to stay.” I had her drive me to the only place I could think of
that would help me... The Salvation Army.
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Chapter 99
The Salvation Army accepted me after I gave them my,

“recently out of jail and on probation and I recently found God” spiel.
They gave me a bunk in a large room that’s almost like a prison
dormitory. Bunk beds were lining the walls with various bags and
boxes strewn all about the occupied bunks. They were filled to
capacity, so I was given a fold-out cot to put in a corner. That would
be my home for a while, and it made me happy. I was told that I’d
have to pay $31 a week if I had any money. I had to go on a daily job
search until I found one. I knew that wouldn’t be a problem. My
newfound faith told me that I have a job quickly.
When I got my things settled into my little corner of the room I

went out and told Missy to go home. I told her I’d call her later on, she
cried, but left.
Living at the Salvation Army had its advantages. You got three
meals a day (if you’re there for them when they’re served.), free
laundry (cleaning that you did yourself), and a huge bathroom for all
your hygiene needs. They gave you everything you needed too….
soap, laundry detergent, clothing, etc. This place really does help a
person who’s down and out.
There’s a dorm for men, and a dorm for women and children.
Everyone had to be at the center by 8 p.m., or face being put out for
their strict policies. Especially, there was no alcohol, or drugs
allowed.
They had helpers who were homeless people at one time. Our,
“dorm manager” was an alcoholic by the name of Fred. He lived in
one of the two single person rooms next to the men’s dorm room. He
oversaw everything that needed looking after in the evenings when
the daytime pastor wasn’t there. He was a good, old, grumpy dude,
but all you had to do for him was slip him a six-pack of Miller beer
through his room window and you could do anything you wanted to.
The cook took up the second single room. His name was Bubba.
He was a big, heavy guy with dirty looks and glasses, but was also a
good dude to make deals with. For a few extra bucks a week he’d
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have you a bagged lunch ready to leave with you every day. He also
gave food out through the back door.
The day after I arrived and got settled in, I walked to a few of
the many furniture factories around town. I was hired at the Hickory
Chair, a company my Uncle Rob worked for almost 20 years. I got put
on the packing line. I’d wrap furniture with plastic wrap, then boxed
it up before being sent directly to the loading dock. I was to start the
following Monday morning. My work hours were 7 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.
Next, I walked to a restaurant. I figured, “why not get two

jobs?” After my spiel to the manager, I was given a job in the kitchen
as a prep cook. I started that job on Monday evening, from the hours
of 5 p.m. to 11 p.m. Next stop……transportation!!
At the Salvation Army Center, the cook sold me a 10 speed for

$25. Now I had wheels to get around on.
I gave my friend Billy a call and told him where I was at. He
laughed at me but told me he’d be by to see me the next day, which
was Saturday. He had a proposition for me concerning some work.
Since I needed all the extra money I could get, I told him to hurry up
and come.
The next morning Billy showed up in his shiny, new teal green
Chevy pickup truck. When I climbed inside the truck he handed me
an already lit joint. I refused it. He looked at me like I was insane. I
told him I was on probation and had found God, so I didn’t want to do
anymore drugs. He couldn’t believe it, but he had no choice. I asked
him what he had in mind concerning work. He said he worked for a
guy that needed an extra hand for weekend landscaping work. Was I
interested? It paid six dollars an hour in cash. I said, “I’m the man for
the job”.
We drove to an old friend’s house to meet up with the boss and

his crew. I ended up knowing one of the guys having gone to school
with him. The boss, Dave, hired me for weekend work and I was put
on Billy’s crew. We handled mostly businesses that were closed on
the weekends. The whole crew smoked pot, except for me. I wanted
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to but I had to try to control myself. I felt compelled not to smoke. I

worked all weekend and got paid $100 in cash. It was a good start.
I gave the pastor $30 for my first weeks rent. He gave me a

receipt and a “God bless you!” It made me feel good to hear that.
On Monday, I rode to work at the furniture plant and began my

job as a furniture packer. My coworker turned out to be the man who
sold pot to all of the other employees. Just my luck! If I wasn’t being
tempted by the devil, then some other forces were at work. He
offered me some pot, but I explained my probation and my newfound
beliefs to him. He laughed it off and said, “no sweat!”
At the restaurant things were going smoothly. I did all of the

prep work around the kitchen and got to know some of the staff. By
the end of my shift, I was dog tired. Thank God the Salvation Army
Center was only a few blocks from work.
About midweek, I got a huge surprise. When I peddled up to the

center, Missy was sitting outside smoking a cigarette. I asked her
what was up, and she said she wanted to be with me. She had her
mom bring her to the Salvation Army to live. UN-FUCKING-
BELIEVABLE!!!!
Needless to say, I wasn’t happy about it. Now I had two people
to worry about, me and her. I told her I wasn’t happy about it, and I
thought she should go back to her mom’s house until I could get on
my feet. She cried about how much she missed me and loved me and
wanted to be with me. I told her, “fine, get a job if you want help me.”
She said she would.
In reality, she just wanted to get away from the trailer park and
having been with me and seen how crazy I lived, she wanted more of
the craziness only Tommy Kaos could provide. Also, she was afraid
I’d dump her for some other girl. And she wasn't wrong. If I did meet
another girl with a job, I’d have left her in a heartbeat. As it was, the
sex was what made me stay with her. She was easy on the eyes and
willing to have sex with me anywhere, anytime.
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After about two weeks of working hard, I finally received my

paychecks from the jobs. I had a nice chunk of cash in my pocket, but
I needed to see what the probation officer wanted in the form of
payment. I had met my probation officer on the Friday I got out. She
was a very hot woman who smiled at me the entire time I talked to
her. I felt that with a little time, I’d be willing to work my charm on
her and see what she had to offer me. Until then, I had to pay my
dues. As it was, she only wanted what I could afford which was $20.
She accepted it and told me I would be urine tested the next time I
visited. “No problem!”, I said.
The following weekend I gave a work proposal to Billy. Why

not start our own landscaping business? He had a truck and some
lawn equipment. All we’d need is a few more items and we could go
around and get some yards on our own. He said he’d think on it.
During my third week at the Salvation Army, Missy still hadn’t

found a job, no one wanted her she said, because she had no
experience in anything. It pissed me off but what could I do? It was
the pussy I tell you!
The next day at the furniture plant my coworker gave me a

dime sack of weed “for free”, he said. I took it and thought, “free $10.”
Cool! But my mind was slipping back into its old negative state, and I
really knew I was going to smoke it. I was just lying to myself that I
wouldn’t.
The following Saturday I smoked it with Billy while we worked.

I kept complaining about Missy and Billy got tired of hearing about
her. He told me to kick her ass to the curb. Why I didn't, I don’t know.
Lord knows I should have because she wasn’t trying to help me. She
was holding me down.
One day, a couple at the center made a mention of renting a

trailer just up the road from Hickory Chair. I suggested Missy and I
split the rent and we could all four get out of the center cheaply. They
agreed and we all moved into a crappy trailer in a crappy trailer park.
The woman had a car, so we were all able to move in easily. It was
$90 a week and it was fully furnished so we were ready to live in it.
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I ended up quitting the restaurant job because I was working

too hard. I really quit in hoping it would push Missy into going out
and actually finding a job. She just got lazier and lazier. We started to
argue on everything. She’d smoke up the cigarettes, wouldn’t clean
the dishes, and just got plain lazy.
On the weekends Billy got sick and tired of hearing about

Missy. We’d get stoned as we worked and being fucked up made me
mad and ranting about her lazy ass. Billy told me hundreds of times
to dump her ass and send her back to her mom’s, but I’d start to think
about the sex and change my mind.
Billy and I began to build our own lawn business while this
were all taking place. We’d drive through the neighborhood and pull
in driveways with open garage doors, and I’d go in and take every
piece of lawn equipment I could toss into the truck. I stole everything
from push mowers, to weed eaters, to backpack blowers. We had so
much stolen lawn equipment at Billy’s house that we even thought
about going full-time doing lawns. I drew up a flyer to be copied and
we passed them out in all the rich neighborhoods. We called the
company, “Greener Grasses Lawn Service.” In no time at all Billy’s
telephone was ringing for our services.
I quit the furniture business, too. I had to. Billy’s phone was
ringing every day and in no time at all, as little as two weeks, we had
at least 10 clients a day. We gave out better deals than most so our
hands were full of yard work. Billy and I split the funds three ways.
40% for each of us and 20% for fuel and repairs. We made a lot of
money in just a short time. We were smoking pot on a daily basis as
we worked, too. Life got good for me except for one thing…. Missy.
Billy ended up purchasing another truck and we split all of the

clients into general areas. One area for him and one for me. We hired
some guys we knew from high school to work for five dollars an hour
as cheap labor. The dude who worked with me was a mama’s boy
who drank his days away. No matter to us. He could push a mower
and use a backpack blower. His name was Tim. Billy’s worker was a
pothead named Eric. We’d meet up each morning at a breakfast place
and plan our day. Our, “company” was growing awesomely, and we
were rolling in the money.
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Billy invested in a mobile home from a friend of his. The guy’s

mom had died and left him a house, so he sold Billy the two-bedroom,
two-bathroom trailer for five grand. That was a sweet deal. It was in a
very nice park on the outskirts of Hickory. Billy offered the trailer to
me rent free if I’d pay the lot rent and keep up the yard. How could I
pass that up? There was a catch though, Missy couldn’t move in.
At first, I was pissed off. But then it made sense. She was
holding me back from focusing on myself. The longer I thought about
it the easier it made me come to terms with what I had to do. She had
to go.
That evening, I created an argument with her. As soon as I

walked in the door and saw her just sitting there watching TV and
smoking cigarettes, I snapped. I yelled at her to get off her ass and go
get dressed. She asked, “what for?” And I told her that she was going
up to the restaurant and seeing about a waitress job. She said she had
already filled out an application for that job. I knew that was a lie. I
stopped in at the restaurant and asked the manager if Missy filled out
an application… He said no one has been in about the job in over
week. I cussed at her to “get off her lazy ass and get the fuck up to
that restaurant.” She was pissed off but stomped into the bedroom to
get out of her house coat and put on a dress. She came out of the back
room, grabbed her purse and cigarettes, and slammed the door on
her way out.
I began to pack up my personal belongings. When I was done, I

loaded up the pickup and left. I put a note next to the overflowing
ashtray telling her “goodbye and good riddance”. It was over. I drove
to my new home and moved in.
For about a month, I did okay by myself. I worked like a maniac

and got stoned on a daily basis. Smoking pots all day every day kept
my mind off the crack and Missy. I was still hung up on her lazy ass
and couldn’t figure out why. I dated a few good, hard-working girls
since Missy, but none of them had whatever the hell it was that
attracted me to her. The pussy was just that good, I guess.
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On a day when I felt nostalgic, I drove to the trailer park where

I had left her. The trailer we had lived in was empty, so I figured she
ended up back at her mom’s place. I was wrong.
While cruising out of the park she came running out of another
trailer waving her arms to flag me down. Like a dumbass…I stopped.
She came up to the truck and started crying telling me that she was
so, so sorry and she loved me more than anything. “Please take me
back, Tommy. I’ll get a job. I’ll do whatever you want. Please don't
leave me here,” she cried. Yeah, right! Where have I heard that
bullshit before?
I asked her who she was staying with, and she told me she was
helping a lady out by babysitting her five kids while her and her
husband worked. She earned free room and board and had to sleep
on the sofa. I asked her why she didn’t just go back to her mom’s, and
she said she didn’t want to burden her mom anymore. Besides, they
had all disowned her for sticking with me. Talk about shootin’ a
honking in the heart. That made me feel bad.
But….my dick was telling me to, “put her in the truck and take
her home.” My mind and conscious was saying, “get the fuck away
from her, dude!” I listened to my dick, of course.
I told her that she could come back to my place, but on a trial
basis. She had to get a job or Billy would kick us both out. She swore
she would, and I was horny. I took her home and we fucked
throughout the night.
The next day, I didn’t know how I was going to tell Billy. We
had planned on going barhopping on the weekend. We’d go out and
find a couple of girls and use the trailer as our “humping ground.”
Billy had a live-in girlfriend, Rebecca, who in my mind was the
perfect mate. She worked, was fine looking, loved Billy’s dumbass,
pot smoking self, and took care of his finances, even for the
landscaping business. Billy didn’t care. He fooled around plenty.
Anyway, I waited until we met up for lunch to break the news

to him. He called me a “fool” and said he was willing to bet that I’d
have her ass out in a week. He said he didn’t want her in his trailer,
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but he wanted to see how long it would last between us. I shoved his
concerns aside and told him I’d trade him Missy for Rebecca any day.
He laughed it off, but little did he know, I was serious. I’d have
claimed Rebecca and her son, in a heartbeat. He had the perfect
woman and was too high to see it.
Well, life went on. For the first week Missy stretched her legs
and looked for job, so she said. Every evening when I came home she
had the trailer spotless, and dinner was waiting on me. I was making
great money, so I didn’t have to struggle. The cupboards and
refrigerator were packed with food. And we had plenty of cigarettes
and weed. But….it wasn’t meant to be
Coming home from work one day, I pulled into the gas station
to fill up the truck. On the other side of the pumps happen to be BJ,
my crack dealer. We said, “hello” to each other and my stomach did
flip-flops. Just seeing BJ had my old nemesis, “Crackhead Tommy,”
open his dormant eyes and came to life once again. I had a pocket full
of money and I was comfortable, Missy was waiting at home. What
more could I want? I bought $100 worth of rocks and sped home to
get high.
When I walked in the door, Missy was sitting in her usual spot,
smoking a cigarette, and watching the TV. I didn’t say a word. I just
dumped the rocks onto the coffee table and told her to go into the
kitchen and get a can. We had some smoking to do. She didn’t say a
word as she set out to do her task.
After a couple of hits, I told her about meeting BJ and how

fucked up fate was, and how I pray to God that I can control it this
time. Of course, she coached me on by saying she believed we could
only do it on the weekends, and she’d have a job the following week.
We smoked all weekend long.
Come Monday, I was breaking and hating life, again. I went

through about two grand I had saved up. I had to ask Billy for a loan,
and he looked at me like I was crazy. “You just had over grand on
Friday. What the hell did you do with it?” He asked. “I put down a
payment on some furniture,” I lied. He gave me $100.
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We received checks and cash payments on a daily basis every

day at lunch, we’d meet up and split the funds equally, so we’d have
money for gas and food, and pay our helpers. At the end of the day, I
used what cash I had left to go by and see BJ before heading home.
Needless to say, this didn’t last long.
I tried to juggle everything so no one would be the wiser, but

that shit doesn’t work. Coming to work every day and needing more
cash just to get rolling, got Billy suspicious. I lied to him and told him
I had a girl on the side, and I was spending my extra money on her.
Billy liked that idea, so it shut him up.
Back at the trailer, something else was going on. Missy was,
“borrowing” money from a neighbor and having BJ over while I was
at work. The only way I found out was when BJ asked me if I’d pay
him for the $20 rock that Missy owed him. I snapped. I cussed out BJ
and accused him of fucking Missy for crack, but he denied that, saying
she had paid him cash for her dope until the day before when she
asked him for credit. He said he had no idea that I didn’t know. I
bought some rocks and stormed home.
Missy was sitting in her usual spot when I walked in. I went to
the kitchen and got a hefty garbage bag. I went into our bedroom and
began stuffing her clothing and miscellaneous crap into the trash bag.
She came into the room and asked me what I was doing. I told her,
“what I should’ve done a long time ago” and kept on stuffing her shit
into the bag. I told her I found out about the money she paid BJ. She
got quiet for just a second, and then started screaming. She called me
a piece of shit, and an asshole, and a son of a bitch, all in one breath. I
agreed with her as I walked past her to the front door. I opened the
door and tossed her trash bag out onto the lawn. I pointed to her
belongings and told her to get the fuck out. She started crying. When
she wouldn’t budge, I grabbed her by the arm and walked her onto
the front porch. I then turned around and went back inside. I
slammed the door and locked it. Missy got her stuff and disappeared
without another sound. I smoked all night long.
For about two weeks I tried to juggle work with my smoking,

but it wasn’t going well. I was working just to get my daily cut of the
funds and then I would meet BJ somewhere. I tried to hide and
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smoke, but even that got complicated. Tim figured out what I was
doing and wanted in on the smoking, so I incorporated his help. We’d
do a yard, and then do a couple of hits of crack. I ended up paying him
with hits of crack.
Finally, I had all I could stand. I asked Billy to buy my half of

our business. He thought I was insane, but I was adamant. We had
just acquired a brand-new skag mower and there were a couple of
new business accounts. He couldn’t believe I was willing to give that
up. I explained to him that Missy had me fucked up. He thought I was
fucked up and I was going back to Florida. We worked out a deal
where he would give me a few grand for my half of the business and
that was that. I asked him to keep me running on the other crew for
$10 an hour. He agreed. Now, he was the sole owner of our
landscaping business.
I smoked up the money all by myself. I ended up worthless as

can be. No money, no shit, no nothing. I was borrowing money from
Billy on a daily basis. Come payday, I’d have to give Billy half my
check. Something had to change.
During this time, I was having an affair with my probation

officer. Before I had moved Missy back in with me, I’d visited the
probation officer to make a payment. I told her of my landscaping
business, and she said she may be in need of my services. She said it
in a flirty, sexy manner, so I knew I could have it if I chose to. It didn’t
matter to me that she was married. She gave me her address and I
met her at lunch time the next day, at her house. As Tim began to
mow her lawn, I was pulled into the house and had sex with her on
the kitchen floor. She was insatiable and slutty as hell. Every day for a
couple of weeks, I went to her house for lunch time sex. She paid for
the lawn work as well as my monthly probation fees. I even,
“borrowed” money from her as an unspoken payment to keep my
mouth shut about our rutting. She wanted the sex, but not the loss of
her job and family. That wasn’t a problem for me. I was content with
that situation.
I felt a bit bad for how I handled Missy. But crack was running
my life and I just didn’t care. I knew I was the cause of her being
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addicted to crack, but I felt we all had our problems. She could deal
with hers as I was trying to deal with mine.
One day I didn’t show up for work until later in the afternoon.
Billy got pissed off at me and we had words. I told him to lend me his
motorcycle so I couldn’t have access to the truck on the days I didn’t
feel like working. The cocaine was making me crazy. I didn’t want to
work. My mind started to crave cocaine all of the time, so I had to
figure way to get it when I wanted it.
In Hickory options are limited. When I would be working on

some job, and I’d case the place for a future burglary. I knew that I
shouldn’t even be thinking like that, but I couldn’t help myself. I saw
money for crack, everywhere.
I ended up buying a shotgun from Tim for $20. I sawed off the
barrel short enough to fit into a clothes duffle bag. I decided to go
back to my old occupation of armed robbery. It wasn’t much work,
and it paid good and quickly.
I cruised neighborhoods where crack was sold and look for

either an alone dealer or a couple. I’d cruise past them and go to park
the motorcycle down the street. I’d sneak back up behind the dealer,
or dealers, and robbed them of their drugs, money, and jewelry. I’d
hauled ass and smoke up everything. BJ bought a lot of the jewelry.
After a couple of weeks, I had robbed everyone but BJ. He told

me that a white dude fitting my description was robbing everyone.
He asked me if it was me and I of course said, “No!" He was skeptical
and I could sense his fear. He knew I had a sawed-off shotgun and
wanted no part of me. He kept his mouth shut and the dope coming. I
was his best customer. He didn’t want to lose me.
I ended up robbing numerous stores, too. I’d ride my

motorcycle to a safe place just beyond the store and walk-in with a
ski mask on and a sawed-off shotgun aimed at the clerk. I’d take
whatever cash was available, some cigarettes, and a couple of
lighters, and I’d run off. I never got stopped on Billy’s bike. If I would
have, the gun was always at my side in the right-hand saddlebag. It
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would’ve been a shootout. My downfall came shortly after the

robberies…
I was on my way to Billy’s one morning to go to work. It was on

a Friday morning. I had been up all night, smoking crack and being
paranoid. I thought the cops were crawling all over the trailer park
trying to sneak up on me, (that’s the way crack makes you) I was
sitting at a stoplight and looked to my right and saw a small savings
and loan bank. It sat in a small strip of stores. When the light turned
green, I had my mind made up to rob the place. It was about 8 a.m.
I got to Billy’s, and he told me what area I was to work in that

day. I said, “No problem!”, and we smoked a joint. I waited for Billy to
leave first. I acted like I was making sure all of the equipment I
needed was on the truck, but I was just biding my time for him to
leave. After he pulled out of his driveway, I began to unload the rear
of the truck. When it was done, I took mud and covered the tag on the
back of the truck. I loaded my duffel bag and shotgun and drove to
the bank.
When I pulled in it was right at 9 a.m. The bank curtains were

just being pulled back as I parked the truck. Anyway, a caddy was
idling in the parking space right in front of the bank’s doors. When
the lady who opened the curtains, opened the front door, the dude
got out of the caddy and entered the bank. He was holding a couple of
green zippered moneybags. I walked in right behind him. I leveled the
sawed-off shotgun at him and then at the three women and one man
behind the counter. I tossed up the duffel bag onto the counter and
told a very pretty girl to load it up with cash only. I told her that if I
had any dye packs or tracking devices that I’d kill her and her whole
family. The dude behind the counter, who turned out to be the
manager, told her to do as I said. I followed her by aiming the sawed-
off shotgun at her. She unloaded four cashier drawers into my duffel
bag. When she handed me the bag I made the caddy guy put his bags
into mine. I ran out of the bank and jumped into the truck. I got the
hell out of there with a job well done in less than 2 minutes.
I drove the truck right back to Billy’s house. The whole time I
was driving I kept looking at the duffel bag, thinking it was going to
explode or something. This was my first bank robbery and I had
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heard about dye packs exploding on guys after they left the bank. If it
would’ve happened to me, there’s no telling what I’d have done,
something stupid for sure.
Needless to say, it didn’t explode. I put all of Billy’s equipment

back in his truck and cleaned off his tag. I wrote him a note telling
him not to drive the truck until after I was arrested. All he had to do
was watch the news to know what I had done. I packed the
saddlebags with the gun and the money, and then drove back the
same way I came, right past the bank. As I got closer to the bank, the
police had the street jammed with a roadblock. The cops were
everywhere. I was able to cruise right past the police. They were
looking for a pickup truck not a motorcycle. I was waved on by.
Instead of going back to my place, I went to my grandmother’s

house. Uncle Joe still owned the house, but it was sitting empty since
grandma had died. I pulled the motorcycle up to the back door. I
broke into the door and carried the bag of money and shotgun into
the basement.
Still thinking about exploding dye packs, I knelt behind the

furnace that sat in the middle of the basement and cautiously opened
the duffel bag. I then, reached around the furnace and began
throwing money out onto the concrete floor away from
me…...Nothing exploded.
I went around and picked up the cash, inside the green bags I
took from the caddy guy was more cash, plus sales and credit card
slips. After I did a count of the money, all I could think about was,
“Fort Lauderdale, here I come.” I had over 32 grand in cash. Time to
party!
I counted out 15 grand and wrapped it up in a trash bag that

had some stored clothing in it. I found a roll of duct tape and taped up
the trash bag really good. I then, went to the front part of the
basement and dug some logs out of a whole in the wall where they
were stored for the fireplace. No one ever used the fireplace, or the
logs, so I figured the money would be safe being stashed there. I put
the taped-up bag of money into a niche where logs used to be, then
re-stacked the logs to cover the money. I gathered up my duffel bag
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with the 17 grand and my shotgun. I cleaned the scene as best I could,
then left.
I went back to my trailer and packed a bag. I left another note

for Billy, apologizing again, for having left the way I did. I thanked
him for his help and left.
I went to the Hickory Motor Lodge and rented a room for a

week. I wore a ball cap and sunglasses. The manager didn’t even look
at me as he accepted the cash for my room.
In the room, I called BJ and told him to bring me all the crack he
could find. He brought me over all he had and said he’d bring more
later. I began a two-week binge from hell.
Of course, I couldn’t just smoke it all alone, so I rode my

motorcycle around until I found a girl to get high with. Talk about a
small world…. the girl I picked up was long legged and fine, but a
shock to see. She turned out to be a girl I used to have a major crush
on in school. Her and her brother were karate kids. Their dad had a
karate studio in downtown Hickory. Her brother, Donald, was a
friend to me when others shunned me. But Jackie, she was a goddess
in my eyes. Crack had gotten to her as well. She was still fine, just
strung out and dirty from her days on crack trail. I made her get a
shower, then we partied for almost 2 weeks straight through. At least
until she got me busted.
When BJ wasn’t holding any crack, or was late coming to bring

me some, I’d give Jackie $100 to go a couple blocks to a place called
the Hill and buy some rocks. She was always back in less than 30
min., except for when she got ripped off by the cops.
A detective was put in charge of finding me, so he found out my

M.O. was crack, hookers, and motels. He had heard that a girl was
spending hundreds of dollars at a certain crack house, so the drug
task force set up a sting operation and caught her with one of the,
“logged/marked” bills. When they got her, she gave me up?
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I was lying in bed smoking a cigarette, when the motel door

burst open, and the SWAT team came bursting in on me. They had me
cuffed and stuffed into the back of a cop car in less than a minute.
Back at the jail, I was led through a hailstorm of news reporters

questioning me about the bank robberies. Another 15 minutes of
fame.
Believe it or not, I felt good to be back in jail. I had nothing and

no one to help me, but I didn’t help myself, did I? I chose the path of
the Kaos.
The only person to come and see me in jail was my probation

officer. She came in and whined how she tried to help me and how
she didn’t violate me when I didn’t turn up for my last visit. I thanked
her and told her that I appreciated her for all she had done for me
and that her secret was safe. She thanked me and said she’d put in a
good word for me with the DA and the judge.
I filed for a speedy trial, and it was granted. That only gave the
DA 90 days to get me in an out-of-court. My attorney, a new kid fresh
out of law school, wanted me to wait to try and get a good plea deal,
but I wasn’t with waiting. I was ready to go to prison and get the rest
of my life ready for whatever it had coming to it.
At trial, I had told the judge that I was a crack addict and
needed some help. My probation officer said a lot of good stuff on my
behalf, so that helped me a little bit. The judge asked me about the
money I stole, and I told him I spent every penny on crack. He gave
me five, 17-year sentences running concurrently, for five counts of
armed robbery with a weapon. Since the bank was a mom-and-pop
bank, and not under a federal funding, I wasn’t charged in federal
court. I went to prison knowing I had 15 grand sitting in grandma’s
basement. Hopefully, it’d still be there when I got out.
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Chapter 101
I was shipped off to Salisbury, North Carolina to the Reception

Center. From there, I ended up at Central Prison (C. P. It was called.) I
did about six months there and then I was shipped to a
minimum/medium camp called Huntersville Correctional Institution
in Huntersville, North Carolina, just outside of Charlotte. I ended up
doing 3 1/2 years at that camp.
During my time there, I stayed in touch with Milo and Jerry. I

had told Milo that I had 15 grand stashed and had no idea what to do
with the money. He suggested that I invest with him in the dope
business. All of that sounded good, but my crack fiend of a mind was
saying that I was stupid for even thinking of it. I told him I’d think on
it.
This stint in prison wasn’t so bad. I had a cushiony a job as a

barber. I was the tattoo man that everybody wanted, and I was
getting mentally and physically strong. I had a girlfriend, of sorts,
coming every week and bringing me some weed. I had it going on.
I thought about getting out and starting up a tattoo business

with the money, but my mind kept coming back to crack.
After four long years of not smoking any crack, I was still
addicted to it. I just didn’t believe it.
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Chapter 102
When the day arrived for me to be released I wasn’t even

expecting it. I was called to the Captain’s office and told to go call
someone to pick me up. At first, I couldn’t believe it until he asked me
if I had a quarter to call anyone. I didn’t, so he gave me one.
I tried to call Red, no answer. Billy, no answer. Uncle Rob, no

answer. I had no one else to call, so I called Milo and told him I was
being released. He told me he’d sell me a kilo of cocaine for 13 grand.
All I had to do was come and get it. I told him I’d be there in two days.
I had figured that I’d get the kilo and come back to North
Carolina to be with Sarah, the Lumberton Indian girl I was having
come see me. She was a good girl, but she had two kids from some
dude who beat on her. I met her through her friend. His wife would
come and visit him. Sarah would wait in the parking lot while my
friend had his visit. When I found out that Sarah sat in the car, I
suggested she come and visit me. We hit it off immediately, and she
visited every weekend after that. I thought I’d get the kilo and come
back to Sarah’s home and sell the cocaine. That was my plan anyway.
Upon my release, I was dropped off at the Charlotte Bus

Station. I was given a one-way ticket to Hickory and the $20 I had left
in my account. I went to a small restaurant next door to the station
and bought myself a beer. The first one I drank in four years. I then
awaited my bus.
Back in Hickory I called up Red. He picked me up at the bus

stop and I had him drive me to Grandma’s house. My Uncle Joe was
living in the house at the time, so I had to break in quickly. No one
was home when I got there. I broke into the back door and got my
money. It was still in the same spot I had put it in four years ago. A bit
moldy, but still in good condition!
Red was tripping at me about still having money from the bank
robbery. He and I laughed at all the police stories and how I had had
my 15 minutes of fame twice. I had Red drive me to the mall so I
could buy some clothes. Next…...we went in search of BJ and smoked
some crack. It was time to pick up where I had left off.
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We found BJ in a house near the Salvation Army. He had done

such a great business selling crack he bought a house. Well……his
favorite crackhead was back. I bought a couple hundred dollars’
worth of rocks and Red and I cruised the lake roads.
Later that evening, I told Red to take me around the various

trailer parks so I could find Mom. We ended up finding Uncle Rob
instead. He was living in the exact same trailer that Mom used to live
in with Wade. The trailer door was open wide, and Rob had his
country music on. It was Friday evening and Uncle Rob was good and
drunk. He had a fat girl sitting next to him on the sofa when I walked
in.
Uncle Rob could hardly get off of the sofa. He said he was very
happy to see me and started to tell the girl (Tina) all about my past
crimes, like they were a badge of honor. Tina couldn’t take her eyes
off of me, like she was fascinated by me. I asked Uncle Rob if I could
crash at his place until the next day. He said I’d have to stay low due
to Missy’s parents hating me. I said I’d be gone the next day.
I ended up sitting at the kitchen table smoking up the rest of

the rocks I had. By the time I was finished Uncle Rob was passed out
asleep. Tina was hanging in there and certainly keeping up the
conversation. Being me, and having been locked up for four years, I
came out very bluntly and asked Tina if she lived with Rob. She said
she lived in the trailer beside Rob’s. I asked her if she’d mind if we
went to her place to talk and she said, “sure!” Upon entering her
trailer, I flat out asked her if she wanted to have sex with me. She
acted nervous, but she stepped up to me and began to kiss me. Sex
followed.
I awoke the next morning in her bed. Three little, snot nosed
kids were running in and out of the bedroom yelling, I was barely
dressed, and Tina was in the kitchen cooking up bacon and eggs. She
yelled for the kids to leave me alone. I got up and went into the
kitchen to see you what I was facing for the day. Tina had me sit at
the dining room table while she made a plate of breakfast for me.
As I was eating, Uncle Rob came to the front door and asked me
if he could talk to me when I got done eating. I said, “sure!” Tina said,
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“Rob’s pissed off at me.” I asked, “for what?” She said her and Rob
were dating until I showed up. Ooops!! I asked Tina why she didn’t
tell me, and she said she seen me and wanted me…. end of story. I
asked her what she was going to do concerning Rob and she said she
didn’t care. She wanted me. Ha! Crazy bitch!
I got dressed and went back over to Uncle Rob’s. As soon as I

walked into the trailer I apologized to him for sleeping with her. He
said he wasn’t mad at me, but I could tell he was. I gathered up my
bag of clothing and money that I had left underneath his chair in the
living room. I told Uncle Rob that I had to go to Florida and would be
back in a week. He told me that I wouldn’t be able to stay with him
because of his landlord, so I told him about Sarah and that I was going
to go to Franklin, North Carolina when I got back.
I had Tina take me to her weed connection so I could buy some

pot for my bus ride to Fort Lauderdale. The weed lady asked Tina
about me, and she said she found herself a new man. Gloria, the weed
lady, told me to tell Rob that her bed was available. I laughed at her,
but she was serious. Very serious! Rob and Gloria have been married
ever since.
I had Tina drive me to the bus station. At this time, May was
living with Uncle Rob. May had come with us to the bus station. She
was happy to see me but was very sad that I was leaving. She even
went as far as telling me not to go, that she had a bad feeling that I
wouldn’t come back. I hugged her and kissed her and told her that I
had to go; I had business to take care of. She cried for me to stay, but I
didn’t. I got on the bus and headed south.
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Chapter 103
Back in Fort Lauderdale, I was feeling comfortable and happy. I

got another room at the Jolly Roger motel and called up Milo. I told
him I had his 13 grand, but needed him to do me a favor, “what?” he
asked. I need some weed, some baking soda, and an ounce of cocaine
until he brought me the kilo. He cussed me out, saying I was going to
go right back to my old ways, and I cussed him back, saying it was my
money and my business what I did with it. He said he’d be by the
room in 30 minutes.
By the time he had arrived I was ever so ready to get high. He

gave me an ounce of his Ganja and everything else I had asked for
plus he gave me 100 hits of LSD. I gave him the envelope with a 13
grand in it and he said he’d be back in an hour. He had to go to Miami
to pick up the kilo. “No problem!”, I said. He laughed and I began to
get high.
For the next couple of hours, I smoked out all alone. When I
finally realized that Milo was late I called his car phone. No answer.
Next, I called his beeper number. No reply. Then, I called his condo
and got his answering machine. I left a message saying I hope all is
well.
I ended up calling Jerry and explaining the situation to him. He

said he’d call Milo and see what was up. We both figured he was just
late, or he had other deliveries to do.
The next time I called him, he answered and said, “Fuck you!”,
Then hung up on me. I couldn’t believe it, so I dialed back. He didn’t
answer. I dialed every number I had for him. When he did answer,
he’d hang up, saying, “Fuck you” to me. Being high as a kite and not
knowing what was up, I began to freak out. I called up Jerry again, to
see if he could make any sense of what Milo was up to but we couldn’t
think of why he’d be doing me like he was. I was getting pissed off.
For the next two days, I sat in that hotel room wondering what
was wrong with Milo. He’d answer every phone call with a, “hello”
and then, “Fuck you!” when he heard my voice.
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I tried and tried to make sense of what he was doing but I

couldn’t come up with any explanation for it. Neither could Jerry. I
was getting more and more pissed off the higher I got. Jerry tried to
tell me to stop doing the cocaine so I could think with the rational
mind, but I was far from rational. His ass had my money and was
saying “Fuck you” to me. That shit wasn’t going down like that. Not in
my world!
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Chapter 104
I was released from prison on June 28, 1994. It was July 3rd,
and I was in a state of absolute craziness. I had eaten almost a whole
sheet of blotter acid, mixed with weed, alcohol, and cocaine. I was
tripping my ass off. One of the things that got me upset the most was
the constant, “Fuck you!” that he said to me every time I called. I
figured he was just flat-out robbing me, so I had to get some get back.
Not knowing what I was going to do, I strolled down the beach
to Milo’s condo. His building had a wall built around the pool area. I
went and sat on a lounge chair in the corner by the pool to wait and
see if Milo would come outside. I felt if I could at least talk to him, that
maybe, he’d give me my money back or my dope. I must’ve sat in a
chair for hours.
Sometime during my wait Jerry showed up. He was going to try

and talk to Milo until he saw me sitting by the pool. He then came to
me and asked me what I was doing. I didn’t remember his visit. He
told me later on about it. He said that I was speaking gibberish and
was incoherent. That I was so high on some drug, that he couldn’t
communicate with me, so he left.
What I do remember is meeting some pale, white girl who

came down to swim. She flirted with me and I, her. I asked her if she
lived in the building, but she said, “no!” She was using her aunt and
uncle’s condo for a week’s vacation. I asked her if she’d like to go on a
date and she accepted. She’d be my way into the building.
I went back to the Jolly Roger to get high and to think on what I
was going to do that evening.
At 7 p.m. I met her in front of Milo’s building. We took a rental

car and began barhopping. I drove her to various bars and clubs,
pouring alcohol down her throat. By midnight, she couldn’t walk. I
drove her home.
Back in her condo I put her to bed. She was too drunk to speak.
I stole all of her cash, traveler’s checks, and jewelry. I sat down and
486
T. L. Henry
smoked up the last of the coke and took my last couple of hits of acid.
It was time to knock on Milo’s door.
I took the elevator to Milo’s floor. At his door, I knocked. After a

couple of loud knocks, he asked who it was. (there aren’t any
peepholes in the doors.) I covered my mouth and said “it’s me. Let me
in. “He unlocked the door.
As the door opened, I barreled inside and hit Milo in the face.
He fell into a small kitchen to the left, sprawled out on the floor. I
asked him where my money was at and he yelled, “Fuck you,
Tommy,” as he got up off the floor. He used the kitchen counter to
raise himself up and he grabbed a butcher knife out of the wooden
block of knives on the counter. I leapt into the kitchen and grabbed
the wrist that held the knife. I slammed the wrist on the counter until
he let go.
I then grabbed the knife and backed up telling Milo, “I want my

fucking money or my dope. Where is it?”
He said, “You’ll be a dead man and a week. I promise you that.”
By him telling me that, I knew I had to get my money and run

like hell. Milo had some very serious connections, and I didn’t want to
meet any of them. But…drug addled and pissed off…. I wasn’t going
anywhere until I had my hands on my money, or my dope.
“Where is my fucking money?” I asked him. He said it was in

the safe, so I pointed the knife in the direction of the safe and said,
“Get my fucking money so I can leave.” he led the way.
The safe was in the hallway behind a huge glass frame picture.
He took the picture off of the wall and sat it on the floor beneath the
safe. He moved as if he was going to open the safe and then he did the
dumbest thing…. he turned and swung a fist at my face, growling, “I’ll
kill ya, ya son of a bitch.”
As soon as his fist hit my left temple I saw stars go from bright
white to blood red in a flash. In a flurry of arms swinging, Milo went
down. As I stood over him, breathing hard and trying to clear my
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T. L. Henry
vision, I saw I was in some deep shit. Milo’s body was covered in
blood and his head was barely hanging onto his neck. I was swinging
so hard and so wildly that I must have damn near beheaded the dude.
Blood was pouring out of his neck, pooling around his head into a
halo. I looked at his body and saw that he was missing a couple of
fingers on one hand too. He had gashes and slashes everywhere.
Blood splatter was all over the little hallway. “What the fuck just
happened?” I asked a dead man.
Seeing the damage, I had done, I knew I had to clean up, get the
dope and the money, and get the hell out of there. I grabbed one of
Milo’s arms and drug him into the bathroom. His head was dragging
beside his body making an awkward to pull him into the bathroom,
so I cut it the rest of the head all the way off. I raised it to eye level to
look at it. I must be crazy, I thought. And tossed his head into the
toilet and his body into the tub.
I then went into the kitchen to clean off all the blood that was
on me. Most of it, anyway.
Next, I took a beer out of the fridge and downed it in one long
gulp. Sigh! What the fuck do I do now? I’m fresh out of prison and
here I was…. fixin’ to go back for ride in the electric chair. What a
dumb ass! It was hard trying to think clearly. I still had coke, weed,
and acid flowing through my head, but I knew I had to get the hell out
of there. But not before I got all of the drugs and money first.
After I cleaned up a bit I went in search of anything and

everything I could steal. I found another hundred hits of acid in a
plastic baggie underneath a baccarat ashtray on the bar. I tore off a
few hits and ate them. I found a big baggy of Jamaican Ganja
underneath the bar. Above the refrigerator in the kitchen was a
Christmas cookie jar filled with separate baggies of eight-balls,
quarter ounces and ounces of cocaine. I took on an ounce and cooked
it up into rock. I went and sat in the living room on the sofa and
began to get high.
After a few hits of rock, I was ready to tackle the safe. That's
where the real dope and money was at.
488
T. L. Henry
I found a huge screwdriver in the toolbox, stashed underneath

the kitchen sink. I took it to the safe and began prying the wallpaper
and wood apart that housed the safe. I then took the safe out of the
wall and carried it to the sofa, lying on its back. After about an hour of
prying, cussing, and sweating the safe popped open for me. Safes are
hard work.
Inside the safe was a whole kilo of cocaine, and my money still
in its envelope under a stack of cash with a couple of watches, some
loose jewelry, and some baggies with various stones. I took
everything and put it in a leather satchel bag that I took out of Milo’s
closet
Back in the living room, I took a few more tokes of crack before
I was ready to go. I took the elevator to the first floor and got the hell
out of there. I stole Milo’s T-Bird and headed toward I-95. I was high
as fuck, but I knew I had to run. And that’s something that Tommy
Kaos knows how to do well…get the hell away from crime.
489
T. L. Henry
I’ve become a product of my environment over the years. As I

sit here reading over my own words, I can see the drug addicted
Tommy going further and further into the deep dark pit called my
life. I don’t remember much about the murder of Milo due to the drug
induced state I’d put myself in. I’ve read many documents and
paperwork to piece it all together. My destiny was to be where I am.
My greatness will be to help that one child, teenager, or young adult
to not make the choices I did.
Acknowledgments:
I’d like to thank Sue for her unwavering love and support. None
of this would be possible if it wasn’t for her many hours of learning
the publishing process, and the faith she has bestowed upon my
abilities. God bless you, Sue. I’d, also, like to thank Jocelyn and
Danielle Conte for editing my many screw ups and taking the time to
help me with making my dreams come true. You rock!
Believe in yourself when no one else will!!!!
490
T. L. Henry

Tommy Kaos Novel FINAL 9 1

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Tommy Kaos Novel FINAL 9 1

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The Life and Times of Tommy Kaos Novel

The Life and

IN THIS BOOK ARE FICTITIOUS AND

CREATIONS OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION.

Any resemblance to actual person living or dead is

Printed in the United States of America first printing,

Revised Novel copyright ©2021

by T. L. Henry Tommy Kaos® name Trademarked by T. L.

Fantastic book! I had a hard time putting the

This is a very awesome book!!! I’m not a

Loved this book! It kept me on the edge of my

Five minutes from now isn’t here yet.

What are you going to do with it?”

My name is Tommy Kaos, and this is my story. I’ve been called a

They settled down in a tiny one-bedroom mobile home on the

My first real memory of anything worth discussing was total

I was asleep in a Lil’ hallway leading to the only bedroom. It

As I said, I awoke to Mom yelling at Dad saying he killed her

My dad had left the trailer to go call an ambulance and God

When Mom seen him, she started screaming anew. Grandpa

I found out later on why my mom kept screaming, “You killed

We moved into Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Hickory,

The next memory was of the burial. We were at my

Tammy was buried behind the church in a tiny cemetery plot. I

Sometime in the near future, Mom came back to Grandpa’s

After a short period of time, Mom settled down and we moved

Living in the new apartment wasn’t much of an adventure for

I remember sleeping on a sofa with May at the other end and

I don’t remember how much time passed before the living

Sometime later, either a few days or a couple of weeks, Mom

During this time, Grandpa and I became close. He was my best

Saturday mornings were the most special because we’d watch

I remember being really sad at having to leave Grandpa and all

It was a long ride to Ben’s house, and when we pulled up to it, I

Mom and Ben told me to go and explore, but to be careful

Ben took me around and showed me how to do all sorts of cool

We spent a couple of years in Ben’s home. I guess Mom enjoyed

I went to school during this time but had to ride my homemade

That winter, October 12th, I turned eight years old; to me it

When springtime came along, I was back to traipsing through

We got packed up and were driven back to Grandpa’s house. I

On one certain occasion, Mom came home with someone who

One goose in particular was a pain in my ass. It always came at

One day, Mom told me to go kill a chicken for dinner. As I went

Mom never beat my ass with a belt or hands; she’d use

We stayed at Grandpa’s house for a while until Ben showed

We got settled in as summer came along and I got back into my

“Crawdaddin” was fun to me because I did it for me and May’s

I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings, just looking

There was an old man who lived in a house up on the hill

Mom called my name and told me to come downstairs. I went

She took me to the neighbors to have them take me to the

I fell back into my routines at Grandpa’s place helping him in

On one particular morning, I got a very crazy surprise. Mom

When he let me go out, he warned me about the water

A neighbor kid, Freddy, showed me all over the river; where

Charles was a forklift driver for Statesville Loading Company,

Charles was what’s known as a “Heel.” He was paid to get in the

Charles ended up getting hurt in a forklift accident and was laid

There was a park one block from our house, so I had

Charles had a workout buddy and a fellow wrestler who lived

Sometime in the early morning, I was awakened by being

One weekend, we went to Hickory to visit Grandpa. Charles

We ended up at a friend of Mom’s and stayed there for a few