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Twisting all the bad things into good

Nov 16, 2011

The Nitty Gritty, Part 16: Bent, Not Broken. Not Yet

If you are going through hell,
keep going.
Winston Churchill

            So far, I've done my best to try to describe my bizarre hallucinations. Even without access to an online thesaurus, I have a fairly voluminous vocabulary. Basically, I know lots of words, and sometimes even the meaning of those words. I must admit that I lack the vocab to describe how I escaped from the Philly jail. Sure, I know enough words to write the sentences,"Then I looked up to see a guy who used to work for my dad fly over me in an electric hang glider" and "I made the right decision by diving to the right, dodging the helicopter's spotlight that went left ", I just lack the ability to form the sentences that would connect those 2. So let's just say, I got away. Sorry, no Shawshank moment in the rain. If there was to be any redemption, some kind of light at the end of this shit filled sewer tunnel, I wasn't there yet.

            After I got past the barbed wire fence around the jail, I sprinted across the seeming endless cow pasture ahead of me. I had no time to pick shrooms, I just ran through the open field, searching for cover. I finally reached the tree line and laid down behind some bushes to assess my situation. On the other side of the tree line, I saw the city streets that I would have to run through in order to get home. Every direction I looked, nothing but the worst ghettos I could imagine. I knew I had to get moving, but I couldn't. Across the street, I saw some guys standing in a circle in what was clearly a drug deal. I recognized 3 of the guys. A white guy and his 2 large black body guards.

            Let me tell you about the biggest pieces of shit I've ever associated myself with. This guy and his cronies were a bunch of lowlifes who got rich from pornography, but somehow thought they were above people who were not degenerates. Cowards who surrounded themselves by thugs so they could get away with treating people like shit without getting their asses kicked. Guys who shake hands with pimps, carry and clean dirty dildos, but then suddenly become germaphobes and refuse to shake hands with the guy working at the car rental. People who if you heard died when one of their private planes crashed, you would only say "good riddance", knowing that the world was a better place without them. They would not be missed, except maybe by those who pretended to be friends, but really only saw them as their meal ticket. You may even want to attend the funeral so you could laugh to yourself as people try to find something nice to say about them. Basically, they were people I had become ashamed to have once called "friends". But, I was willing to put all of that aside if it meant making it alive out of this ghetto in my mind. So you might say that even in my hallucinations, I'm a hypocrite. All I could say to that would be,"Hey, fuck you, I was in the middle of a psychotic episode!"

            I had nothing against the body guards. They were alright.The white guy was scumbag who I will refer to as DJB for my own personal sense of satisfaction. No matter how much I despised DJB, I knew that his security was the only way I would make it out of here alive. I ran as fast as I could towards them and explained my situation. They said everything would be cool and as soon as the drug deal was done, we were going to head home on a yacht that was at a nearby the middle of the ghetto. I thought I was safe. I was wrong.

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