Tuesday, July 10, 2018

The Fight...







The Fight...

The reason I wrote this was after some white middle class women was telling me about my privilege. Seeing that nothing could ever happen to me in her eyes and how as a women she was more likely to be murdered, this memory floated on top. I am not a fighter, to be honest I have never hit anyone in my life. I am the type of guy that looks down when I walk, just in case I step on a bug. I walk because driving gives me the chance of hurting another, and that is a chance I am not willing to take. So when this first real fight came at me I was kinda unprepared, however I am getting a little too far ahead of myself. This is a tale of my past, I have many and might share more. They are all pretty fucked up in a fun way, this one is more twisted. If you trigger easy, then I am not the right storyteller for you.

I was 18 years old and had just been dropped off in a town called Surrey in British Columbia Canada, outskirts of Vancouver. Ending my amazing tour across Alberta that I can remember. I was traveling with a tattooer and his girlfriend as we headed across the west doing tattoos to make extra money. I did all  the stencil work for him, he did the work and she was just cute as can be. This was my first time out west on my own and only really knowing old family friends I was left sleeping on a branch in a overgrown park close off of the downtown core. You might wonder why the branch in a tree, yet if you knew Surrey you would understand. The wild deer will shank you for a apple. Now I was kinda a cute kid, I can say that now as I have grown older and see myself in a much better light. So meeting people was pretty easy, I was new, living in a tree, looked 15 at best and the new kid in town. I met a girl and we started dating, her mother hearing that i was living in a tree invited me to stay in their home. Very lovely women, she drove such a sick ride. Things were fun, I started meeting a big group of people that all hung out together, their parents all hung out. All drove bikes and lived in big houses. One night she invites me to help her babysit her moms friends kids, I said sure of course totally at the mercy of this caring young lady. After the night was over and the parents get home, a few people have joined the house and everyone was drinking. As a joke the owner of the house throws at me a huge double dildo, seeing what I would do. Me being witty and a comedian, the best trait given to me by my father, threw a joke out that made the entire room laugh. They started joking around, and well my family use to drink and pick the fuck out of each other for family games night, I stared joking around with them and all of a sudden she is mad at me as I am having a drink with the boys. That night finding out my story the father invited me to live at his sons house he own and was just right down the block from his and  his wife's, and start working for him. Me having street smarts, just a prairie city street smarts and not into the big world of drugs, did not have a clue what was truly going on. Everything was happening so fast. 


Now I didn't have a lot of experiences on drugs, not hard drugs anyways. I didn't actually see good weed until I moved out west to BC. All I got in Saskatchewan where I grew up was stalks and seeds, or what we called Mexican, good honey oil and the best gold seal hash you have ever smoked, fresh from the fields and dropped off in Quebec. So when they offered e a job selling drugs, I kinda thought they were talking about that...

Well they moved me in, got me a bed and i started living with two other guys. One a little older and one around the same age, a strange kid with anger issues. My bosses son. So they set me up with a pager (how I am dating myself here) and my driver and when it beeped I went and dropped the product off. Simple as that, yet not so simple. The more I fell into this world the more I noticed what a huge coke issue all my new friends had. My one friend brought me over to his dads house to scrape the freezer door, I guess pounds were sold on it daily and there was always some huge fat rails. All of a sudden little ole me was addicted to coke, who would have known. At the time this was my first real addiction. I might have been moody when i didn't have weed but the feeling you get when you don't have blow is a whole other story when you are so young, doing eight balls a day. And slowly giving all my earning back to them.
The house was crazy, coke parties, drugs galore. It was where I first and last time ever tried heroin. They were partying as usual and I was having a crisis with my life. This was way more then living in a tree or running from my mother. I went in the kitchen to have a drink when to Indian fellows invited me for a line, thinking they were the cheapest bastards with their puny line and not knowing that they were being actually very generous with their China white. One line later and making it to the chair, I proceeded to vomit all over myself unable to move. So much fun. I had to get out of there and the other roommate told me we cold go live with his brother. He was a little older and as I found out later a big thief. So I said sorry I have to quit this, I gave them back the pager and said I was moving out. I asked them if I could get my last welfare check that they help me sign under my name and had it mailed to them in their name for the next month, since it was too early to change it. They said sure and let me on my way... 



Something odd stared to happen. My new friends were not so friendly anymore, and the feeling in the air to me was trouble. When my friends brother drove me there to grab the check the day after I had moved my stuff, I sat worried telling them that I don't feel right about this. They said don't worry and his older brother says here take this. A metal file with a hook on it. Not really knowing what I was going to do with this in my hand in my pocket , I proceed to walk to the door and knock on it. When the door opened I knew right at that moment I was fucked. At the door was five guys, two of my new friends, my bosses son and his best friend, my boss and his two biker friends all were there greeting me at the door. Even after everything they are sending me a good bye party. The big big guy grabs me and drags me in the house and pulls me upstairs as the shots start coming.. They dragged me in the living room as all five of them started kicking the shit out of me. It was a strange place to beat a person, the room was very tidy and was all in blue with a nice couch. I think I remember the TV playing some sort of daytime drama, I remember thinking it should have been the days of our lives on. As all this was happening, the blue couch with matching blue drapes, the TV drama that I wished was more ironic, the beating from this five men I was able to hold on to one thought. My bosses sons best friend isn't even hitting me at all, the fucker is pretending to hit me in the side. Like gentle love taps from a playful lover, I stared laughing to myself which gave me just some more strength. All the while having both hands in my pockets with a bloody file in my hands. If I show that I would certainly be murdered..

As I am standing there in the middle now of this open faced, living room kitchen area, they noticed I was pouring a lot of blood and started punching me out side if that ever was a thing. My boss punches me in the face as his son pushes me outside. My boss or should I call him ex boss at this point, he grabbed my head and stared smashing it against the wood railing on his nice new ish deck. I had a lot of blood in my eyes so at this point, I wasn't able to see if it was ceder or just regular wood. It did feel smooth as my face was being bashed over and over again. Letting go of me and him seeing that I was still standing, he tossed me off the flight of stairs onto the frozen concrete floor of his backyard. If you want to know the details of that yard then it wouldn't be a true story, I could hardly see anything flying threw the air with my hands in my pockets and a fucking stupid metal file. 
And wouldn't you fucking know it I landed on my feet and slide across the ice like I fucken planned it like a boss, stopping perfectly still with both hands in my pockets. The biker guy rushes down and does the most beautiful roundhouse kick I have ever seen so close. When it hit my face it exploded like all those movies show that were a little more gore then you were use to. What I saw coming from it was a splatter so what they saw must have been crazy. And I still stood, seeing the gate and rushing for it. I rushed to the car, jumped in quickly as I see the two not new friends follow behind on foot. 

I don't have any pictures, I don't really remember what I looked like. They had to give me reconstructive surgery for my nose jaw and skull. I still have a crack in it. My roommate phoned the police and told them the details and who did it, when they handed me the phone the cop told me and I am honest to god here, if you go another further you will be dead. I think that was the plan all along, this family and friends were more then just a small group of people, they were part of something much larger, another world that I was not able to shake off my foot for a long time. They have a way of keeping up on you even from miles away. What I heard over the years was that my boss became leader of his group, running the trade for themselves and government. Everyone has to pay taxes. His son I heard was arrested for breaking into a morgue and sleeping with a dead body. Now you might be thing, hey man really, really?!! Yes and it was a man to boot, gay necrophilia was something new to me and that was about the last I ever wanted to hear about that subject. Of course life has changed since than, and I am nothing of the child all those years ago. Just a small tale of my life  on lost highways.