Wednesday, January 23, 2013
I was remembering when I was a young stiff dick wanting to be able to be a cold ass murdering motherfucker.
I never had it in me, made a lousy boxer because I could take a lot of shit and still feel bad for dishing it out myself. Once I went with a guy for a day of collecting for a bookie/loan shark motherfucker. He was a ruthless bastard as well as a good friend of mine and he took me back to the bar after two stops and said I should get a job, he'd even help me..
He told everyone I was too "laid back" for the kind of work they did.
He's still right if he's still alive and still saying that about me. The best tough guy shit I was ever able to pull off was being a "door security" motherfucker at a wild ass punk rock club up in North Beach for a four or five month stint. I enjoyed cavorting with the punk rock women I got to cavort with and the music was fucking amazing. But I got whacked in the head one night with a un-opened 12 oz. long neck bottle of Budweiser. Just because. We threw the guy out the back and everyone was waiting for me to kick the shit out of him. He was a wormy little75 pound speed freak and he was crying. I had my stick out but I couldn't hit him anymore. I felt bad for the little schmoe and I still do.
I'll tell you though, the best meanest thing I ever heard of was done to a screwball dope fiend sheriffs deputy. To himself.
Everyone who knew him knew he was an utter asshole. He specialized in driving around looking for "suspicious" looking people driving around on the backroads of Marin County and holding them up with his gun and badge. He stole dope and money and kept it. Hit women up for sex or get busted. Let you go so you would be grateful and who were you going to tell anyway?
So, I heard a story about a couple of people who were on the road on a beautiful day, driving up to Mendocino County to a great party.
The way it went was they had stopped on the way up and obtained a bit of special party dust. About an ounce of LSD, crystaline in form. It was all arranged in advance, just stop and get it and bring it up the road.
Deputy Dog stopped them by the reservoir outside of Nicasio, in his own truck in his own cowboy outfit. He came up on the car with his gun out and he was all alone.
They didn't know it was "him', they'd heard about the guy but weren't from around there. They had licenses, the car was cool, no one had a warrant, nothing was wrong, but he had a little light that plugged into the cigarette lighter dock on the dash of his truck that was red and blinky so they pulled over. They really weren't worried until he stomped up to the window and told them to get the fuck out. He had his gun right in his hand.
One guy wanted to ask about ,like, "why?" but the other one caught the drift, he figured it was the Deputy Dog dude so they did, they got out. He asked them if they had any drugs in the car or guns or money. No sir we do not.
He said he was going to look, don't fuck around and go stand still over there. Okay, what the fuck,okay
The acid was in a bottle inside a plastic bag inside a paper bag rolled shut and he found it pretty quick.
"Looks like pretty rocky coke boys, I'm going to have to take you in." Then he says maybe he should just take it and use it for some bullshit like undercover work. Then he said he should check it out and make sure it was worth his attention. He shook some out onto the hood of the car and crushed it with his little pocket knife, too bad about the paint kid, made a rail and snorted it. The guys didn't say a word.. They told us after he schnozzled it up he twitched a little bit and told them to take the fuck off, which they did. They went a half mile and turned around and drove back to where his cowboy truck was. He wasn't there anymore, but the acid was on his front seat, so was his gun, his wallet and his car keys. They took them all plus his junior g man light and off they went.
feeling a little bit bad for the little Deputy Dogdick dude.
I heard they called the San Rafael cops from a pay phone in Petaluma and told them what happened they better go find him and hung up and laughed their asses off all the way to Covelo and when we heard the story at the ranch everyone else did, too.
How many mikes did he schnoozle up? Definitely enough. Yeah, absolutely.
Don't you just hope it's all true? I just heard about it, but I do.
So that's pretty mean.
Posted by uniplmr1 at 11:23 PM