Peddling Peddler Poochie

Peddling Peddler Poochie

“Yo Poochie man you slick dude, I be seeing you everywhere doing your thang.”

Poochie smiled wide before responding to his friend and loyal customer.

“Yea man, I can’t let ‘em catch me down bad; I gotta keep peddlin’. You know?”

Poochie cocked the back wheel of his bike and stepped on the peddle with his left foot causing the wheel to spin around.

“They can’t catch me on this. I be dippin’ through the cut and bendin’ dem corners. If they ain’t got the ghetto bird flyin’, I’m out! You know what I’m sayin’?” “Yea homeboy, like I said; you a slick dude.”
“Well I’m out T-Rock.”
“I’ll holla at ya Pooch.”

Poochie peddled down the street and out of Pine Hills to his next spot; on his back was a backpack where he secured his product and firearm. A two time felon with three outstanding warrants he found it prudent to stay mobile and protected. Poochie made a vow to himself and anyone listening that he would never go back to prison. They would never take him alive. He received a call from some customers in Ivey Lane. When he arrived he set up shop in his favorite customer/trick, Lez’s crib. He sent her to give word to everyone that he was there and would be for the next two hours. Before he left eight hundreds dollars worth of cocaine, ecstasy, marijuana, and crack or “hard” had been sold. Poochie peddled on after providing Lez with drugs and getting a quickie.

His next stop, down town to Parramore Street to get off the rest of his hard. He knew that he could sell out under the bridge where the drunks, junkies and homeless played checkers and found lodging. Orlando Police had been getting repots from detained addicts in search of freedom about a dealer who traveled the city on a bicycle. They had a description of him as well as a description of his bike; his areas of operation were also provided. Poochie hung out under the bridge with his pistol in the small of his back, ten twenties of crack in right pocket and five balloons of heroin in his left. There were a few homeless Vietnam war veterans still addicted to the drug that frequented the oasis of the homeless, as it was sometimes called by it residents.

Poochie was almost done and about to leave for home, a run down rooming house in Orange Center. Just then he saw a police car coming down Parramore so he casually got on his bike and began to peddle away. The officer driving the police cruiser looked to an informant on his left and got the nod he was looking for; this was his guy. Officer Parker quickly called for back up. Fortunately there was an officer coming down Gore Street which intersected Parramore in the direction Poochie was heading. Poochie notice the police car behind him picking up speed. He peddled harder.

He made it to the corner and saw a police car to his right so he turned left on Gore and peddled harder. Poochie made it though an intersection and then he saw flashing lights ahead of him. A train was coming, an escape. Poochie grinned wide displaying all of his eight gold teeth as he envisioned himself alluding the police once again. He looked back and shot the coppers a bird as he approached the train crossing. Poochie turned to see the black and orange striped arm coming down in front of him. He road right into it. It caught him in the throat throwing him backwards off of the bike and onto his back knocking him unconscious. Police quickly surrounded him and took him in custody. Poochie is now Florida State Property for the rest of his natural life at age twenty-nine. Poochie peddles no more!

Peddling Peddler Poochie


Panicked for Pills

Panicked for Pills

Tommy Tyler and Tyler Taylor sat side by side scratching themselves on the couch in the garage of the Taylor home. Tommy’s scratching was a side effect caused by his drug of choice the powerful pain killer oxycodone. Tyler’s scratching was just one of the many withdraw symptoms he was suffering from due to not having one of his two favorite drugs, heroin or methadone. He cooked his last spoon the night before. They both indulged in any and all drugs. The boys naturally gravitated towards each other when the Taylor family moved into the sleepy Ocoee neighborhood three years earlier. Being the same age with similar names, interest and living in proximity of one another made it very easy for the boys to become the best of friends. Over the past eighteen months, interest such as skateboarding, surfing and video games shared between the two were replaced with drugs, porn and alcohol. They now lived to get high and were dubbed the leaders of the “Ocoee Stoners”. The stoners were a group of kids in school who got high as frequently as possible before, during and after school. One year past graduation, the boys’ addiction had gotten stronger so they had to do more desperate things to support their habits. There was now no measure they wouldn’t go to, to secure their vice.

“Tommy you got any more oxy man, I’m hurtin’.”

Tyler scratched his neck then put his face in his palms massaging his forehead with his fingertips. He ran his fingers back through his greasy hair then suddenly snapped his head up angrily when his friend didn’t respond quickly enough.

“Dude, did you hear what the fuck I said!”

Tommy had taken his last three pills and was feeling a little lethargic; he was slow to answer slurring his words incoherently.

“Naw dude… I…I… I ate my last ones.”

Tommy’s head moved slowly back and forth like a broken bobble head doll before finally resting his chin on his chest where a drop, then stream of drool was deposited. Tyler stood up and started pacing, searching his mind for ways of coming up with money for drugs. Not much time would he be allowed before he became unbearably dope sick. He lit a cigarette and thought harder. His parents had grown somewhat distrustful of him over a year ago after several thefts, so there was nothing in the house that he could sell or pawn with ease. No loose money, check books, credit cards, nothing. There was nothing to steal that wasn’t literally bolted down.

Tyler pushed the wall door bell and let up the garage door, sunlight flooded the once dark shadowy garage. He stepped out into his driveway and looked for passers by, maybe he’d get lucky and see somebody he knew that would get him high. Just then, Tommy awoke from his drug induced trance and wiped his mouth. With mouth clear of slobber and working again, Tommy spoke up with a plan of action.

“Hey dude, you know that pharmacy over on Clark?”
“Yea, I know the one.”
“Well I know this chick that used to work there and she said that they ain’t really got no security there. There’s just the pharmacist and her assistant, that’s it. We could just go in there, demand all the drugs and then drive off dude.”

A sinister grin covered Tyler’s face as he began to visualize himself getting high in the near future.

“Alright Tommy you drive and I’ll go in and get the pills. First we need to make a list of all the pills we want so that I can read them off to the pharmacist.”

The boys compiled a list of thirty different kinds of pain pills, muscle relaxers and sedatives to present to the pharmacist during their heist. Tommy gathered himself and got behind the wheel after Tyler put on all black clothes, black mask and white gloves. Tommy dropped Tyler off at the entrance of the small pharmacy and then pulled around to the back. Tyler eased his way into the front door and immediately made his way behind the counter to where the pharmacist and her assistant were standing. Her assistant was on the telephone and Tyler ordered her to hang the phone up. She was on a call with an agent of the state of Florida so she just put the receiver down allowing them to listen to what was going on.

“This is a robbery; get me every thing on this list, now!”

Without speaking the pharmacist reached to her right and pushed the button for the silent alarm. The police were now also notified so she started to get the drugs that the robber requested.

“Hurry up!”

Tyler demanded form behind his mask. He brandished a knife to encourage the ladies to move faster. Tyler went back to the entrance of the pharmacy and locked it. After they filled his sack full of drugs he started to tie them up. Just then the pharmacist saw an Orange County Deputy show up at the front door and she signaled to him notifying him that there was indeed a robbery taking place on the premises. Tyler couldn’t resist popping a few pills once he had his victims gagged and tied; in his mind the entire situation was under control. The two ladies were calm and docile during the entire ordeal allowing him to subjugate them.

This unfortunately was not their first time being robbed by junky teens in need of a fix. From their experience they learned that if you give them the drugs that they want without much resistance, the robbery would be over in minutes with no harm done to them. They understood that the thief only wanted to get high. Meanwhile outside the pharmacy, Tommy was being slammed to the concrete, put in handcuffs and ushered into the back of a police cruiser. Tyler emerged from the back door into the alley feeling exhilarated, victorious and high before quickly meeting the same fate as his pal. Side by side they rode down to the county jail, both in a trance from the drugs they had consumed. Surprisingly Tyler was just happy to finally be high; he hadn’t given much thought to how much trouble he might be in or how much time he might serve for his crimes.

Both teens were sent to prison and received drug treatment; only one of the two lads would it help. Tommy was released into a new world of sobriety within his first five months of incarceration. Eighteen months afterwards a welcome home celebration was had at the Tyler home for their only son’s return. It was a bitter –sweet occasion due to his friends overdose in prison five months earlier. Unfortunately the Taylors couldn’t bring themselves to attend the festivities because of the grief they still suffered from due to their son’s death and resentment they harbored in their hearts for Tommy. Blame had to be placed somewhere. They had yet to accept responsibility for their indifference, complacency and lack of discipline in their son’s development into adolescence. This is where the problem lay. He was never held accountable by his parents for any of his actions; probably because they still struggled with finding accountability for their own.

Panicked for Pills

Ras Cat: The College Years Vilified Victim of the Valley of Varied Vixens

Ras Cat: The College Years  Vilified Victim of the Valley of Varied Vixens

Author Cam Rascoe returns with a tale of a talented Pine Hills youth’s journey into higher learning and a different land. Ras Cat the College Years explores race relations on college campuses across America in the early 1990’s while telling the tale of a promiscuously misguided young man’s loss through his favorite vice. Mr. Rascoe continues to push boundaries, offering compelling characters in the most poignant of tales. Detailed narration, painting vivid pictures makes this book a real page turner. The Vilified Victim of the Valley of Varied Vixens is an exciting and entertaining cautionary tale of how we accomplish exactly what we work towards in life. Unfortunately for young Ras Cat he applied his energy and talents towards becoming intimate with as many co-eds as time would allow. Loss of focus leads to the loss of a dream, all for the lust of the varied vixens of the valley.

Quality Time, Family Time

Quality Time, Family Time

Anytime can be quality family time. Any activity, game or chore you do together can be made into quality family time. When you’re doing you’re talking, that communication brings about the quality. Give the time, spend the time. We only have one life to live, enjoy it spending that important quality time with the ones you love.



Visualize wealth and put yourself in the picture. “There’s no reason to fear the new world order. We must order the new world to pay us; the new world order and the old state chaos.” “Educate yourself; make your world view bigger. Visualize wealth and put yourself in the picture.” Thank you Lawrence Parker. Tithing don’t hurt either; I know where my financial Blessings come from, Thank you Jesus Christ.

Lethal Loathing Littering Lives If you litter other’s lives with loathing, there will eventually be perils and putrid pollution in yours.

Lethal Loathing Littering Lives If you litter other’s lives with loathing, there will eventually be perils and putrid pollution in yours.

“Franny! Log off your phone and come see me in my office. Now!”

Rhoda stormed out of the call center and into her office. She slammed files down on the desk and took a seat in the chair behind it. Shortly afterwards Franny nervously entered the office and took a seat in front of the large desk wondering what type of abuse she was in for this time. Rhoda wasted no time in tearing into her.

“Franny I just listened to a reservation you took and I was mortified! Do you even know what the hell it is we do here? I’m going to play this call for you and I want you to tell me what’s wrong with it.”

Franny suddenly heard her voice pouring from the speakers on Rhoda’s desk. She was engaged in a conversation with an Australian woman who seemed to be quite confused about where she was trying to go and what type of transportation she needed. The lady’s accent was very thick and Franny had a difficult time understanding her. Franny struggled through the call finally finding the customer’s reservation in the system and booking her return trip from a theme park to her hotel. At the conclusion of the call Rhoda battered Franny with questions, ultimatums and eventually threats.

“Tell me what’s wrong with that call Franny! Do you know?!”

Anxiety and stress flowed through Franny as her heart began to race. She responded in a meek, trembling voice.

“I had a hard time understanding her and I couldn’t find her reservation right away.”

Rhoda quickly interrupted her, excited about the opportunity to reprimand.

“The woman wasn’t at the location that you booked her shuttle van to pick her up at. She was an hour late getting back to her resort and we had to pay for her transport. If it were up to me I would have it taken out of your check!”

Franny was confused because she booked the lady’s reservation back from the theme park she went to that morning to her hotel and made an attempt to confirm it with her. Free transportation was given by the company often daily as a means to resolve customer complaints; it cost very little to the transportation company, they were usually sending vehicles through the location anyway. Franny trembled in her seat trying to think of a way to answer Rhoda’s questions in a way that wouldn’t cause her to further incur the angry woman’s verbal wrath and fury.

“I booked her reservation from the theme park we took her to in the morning and she agreed.”

Rhoda again interrupted with criticism and chastising.

“Well if you would have asked more questions you would have known that she took a taxi from one theme park to another and she needed to go back to her hotel from there. You people are not only reservationists! You are a customer service agent; do you understand me!”

Rhoda’s cold blue eyes protruded out of her pudgy face as she looked over her glasses and down at Franny with contempt in her eyes. Rhoda was truly enjoying herself as Franny looked down and responded submissively.

“Yes ma’am.” Franny answered Rhoda although she was only five years Rhoda’s junior.

“Now Franny I know you need your job because you got custody of your nephew now and ‘yo husband ain’t workin’.”

Rhoda always enjoyed the opportunity to throw what she thought was an ethnic tone or slang into her speaking when reprimanding employees of color. She was always sure to pry as deep as possible into their personal lives so that she would know which way to best intimidate them. If an employee had to miss a day of work due to illness, she would not only want to know what they were inflicted with but how they contracted it, who was treating it and where, how it effected their family, if their spouse would be able to support the family financially without the employee’s help and as many other intimate details about the person’s life that she could force them to divulge.

Most employees would disclose as much information to Rhoda as possible to explain the reason for their absence to preserve their job. Rhoda would pretend to be sympathetic and understanding while they revealed the hurts and pains of their souls and then she would tell them that they could come to her and tell her anything. Her door was always open. Later she would tell any and all juicy details about the employee’s life in a meeting with the upper management of the “good ‘ole boy”, family owned company. They would all sit around and have a good laugh at the expense of an employee while enjoying Rhoda’s portrayal of their plight. Later Rhoda would use the information to intimidate and threaten her employee when necessary; she knew where and how to attack them.

“Now Franny you can consider this a verbal warning but I don’t want to see this again! Do you understand me?!”

Tears of fear, frustration, anger and pain streamed down Franny’s cheeks as she answered her tormentor.

“Yes ma’am.”

Rhoda felt empowered by the woman’s tears and pleased at the control she held over the woman’s life. She responded to the woman’s tears with revulsion in her voice.

“Now get up and go to the bathroom and wipe your face. I want you back on the phone in six minutes so get yourself together. This meeting counts as your ten minutes break today; I think you need more time on the phone to focus on your job.”

Franny paused trying to gather herself before exiting the office.

“Let’s go!”

Rhoda demanded of her emotionally broken employee. Franny jumped then dragged herself out of the office to mummers and looks of curiosity from her co-workers. Rhoda left the blinds open in the office so that everyone could see her flex her muscles with yet another employee. She enjoyed causing them the embarrassment of being disciplined in eyeshot of everyone else; it increased all of the agent’s level of fear towards her therefore increasing her power over them. Franny looked into the bathroom mirror and wondered to herself exactly what she did wrong and if Rhoda was going to eventually fire her. Franny had to endure great abuse for a mere $8.00 an hour salary that didn’t even pay her bills. Her miniscule earnings kept her in a financial struggle and put her at the mercy of the wicked whims of evil people.

A few minutes later Franny made her way back to her cubicle and tried to sound cheerful on the telephone; she was afraid that Rhoda could be listening and recording every call waiting for her to make a mistake. Meanwhile, Rhoda busied herself with writing up the incident on a “notice to file” form or a “secret write up” as she called it and placed it in Franny’s permanent file. She did this so that she would have the grounds to fire anyone at anytime while duping them into thinking that the situation wasn’t very serious.

Rhoda returned to the call center and ordered another agent into her office, excited and anxious to inflict more pain. Esmeralda was a low key industrious thirty-four year old woman of Latin decent whom Rhoda detested. Rhoda was angry at the woman because of whom and what she was; the fact that Esmeralda had been hired by her boss incensed her more. The center was in need of Spanish speaking agents since all but one had been fired in Rhoda’s sixteen months as Customer Service Manager. Her boss Mr. Means felt it necessary to intervene to insure they had someone on the night shift that was Spanish speaking. Esmeralda was a perfect candidate having six years of customer service experience. She was paid $8.50 an hour because she was bilingual. Rhoda was opposed to Spanish speaking agents being paid more but the policy was in place before she joined the company so she couldn’t prevent it. But, she could make it difficult for them and eventually find a reason to terminate their employment.

Rhoda could deal with African Americans better on most levels; she was used to them, they’ve always been around. Sambo, Mammy, Uncle Tom, Chester, Aunt Jamaima, Mr. Bo Jangles and Uncle Ben were familiar to her. That’s how she viewed “coloreds” like Franny. She knew how to deal with what she considered to be the lesser Negro subservient who had the misfortune to find themselves’ under her dominative authority. Esmeralda spent fifteen minutes in Rhoda’s office being berated for a minor error on a location that had been changed and she was never informed of, Rhoda was aware of this. Esmeralda received an official write up and Rhoda put out a memo with the information on the location a day later but it was dated four days before Esmeralda’s minor error. Rhoda wanted the write up to stand; later she would tell her daughter of her intentions during a thirty minute call on company time.

“Yea, Means thinks he can hire these spics and force ‘em down my damn throat, I’ll show his ass. I’m puttin’ her little taco eatin’ ass on the fast track outta here! I’ll have her ass gone in less than a month. The little bitch even had the nerve to start crying, like I care! That just makes it that much more fun, ha, ha, ha.”

Her daughter responded through laughter.

“Mom you’re terrible. I’ve got to go now; it’s time to pick up the boys.”
“Alright, tell the boys I’ll call them later.”

Rhoda hung up the phone and immediately felt a sharp pain in her side, then another. She put her hand on her lower back as she writhed in pain mumbling to herself.

“Them damn stones are back.”

She had been suffering from kidney stones for the past six years. Some of her employees called them “karma stones”, stating that what goes around comes around. She was just getting some of the pain back that she caused other people all the time. Rhoda constantly spread gossip and dug for details of people’s issues and problems for the purpose of harming them with it. She held subordinates back from progressing in the company by withholding information and baring false witness of their work performance or commitment to the company. She, rarely the advocate for any of her employees, felt threatened by their youth and ambition so she went to great lengths to keep them down. Rhoda was even responsible for the resignation of a Latin supervisor in her department whom she duped into thinking that she loved like a daughter. Confidential information was shared and then shared further with persons not intended to have knowledge of such personal pains. First the “daughter’s” ex-husband’s illness was reveled. He was HIV positive. She was not.
Second she exposed an intimate relationship being had between the “daughter” and an African American manager from a different department thus causing the man to lose his employment through a hypocritical company rule. Upper management dated whomever they wanted; one of the owners’ wives was once, for a short time, a low level employee immediately before becoming his wife. Rhoda promoted the thought of her “daughter’s” “hot blooded Latin ex-husband” coming to their workplace and committing violent acts against them all, in a jealous rage, to her superiors in the company. She always enjoyed working a devious web of deception, wickedly smiling at her handy work. Everyone in upper management was aware of the “daughter’s” deepest darkest secret and passed it around like an office memo. She subsequently quit her job after sharing irate words of hurt and betrayal to all parties involved. She did however stay with her man and build a new life with a new husband.

Many a letter had been written to the human resources department by disgruntle employees claiming everything from verbal abuse to racism. Rhoda loved the movie “Roots”. “Cunta” was a name that she often called her pet at work, a black woman who thought more of her oppressor than herself. She often betrayed her sisters to be in Rhoda’s good graces. After the pet decided to accept a promotion to transfer to another department and was later dismissed by Mary Ellen, “their Rhoda”, Rhoda refused to give her a job. Rhoda was very aware of all of the hardships the woman faced in her personal life and took joy in making her situation that much more bleak. Later she and Mary Ellen would discuss her pet’s strife and laugh about the woman’s children’s lack of clothing, food and late rent payments.

“I guess she better get out there and sell some of that crack rock like the rest of ‘em. I know she’s got plenty of crack heads in her neighborhood.”

Rhoda laughed hysterically with Mary Ellen doubling over at her side. Rhoda was manager to a diligent young lady who was extremely dependable and dedicate to her job; she had much malice for this young lady. She didn’t appreciate the young woman’s attitude. Rhoda wanted her to get involved in the interoffice nonsense by giving up information on her coworkers. She wouldn’t, everything she discussed with Rhoda was work related so Rhoda thought that the “little uppity black bitch”, as she called her, needed to be knocked down off her high pedestal. The young lady applied for positions and Rhoda smiled at her then buried her resume and letter of application every time. She enjoyed doing wicked indirectly almost as much as directly causing someone’s impairment in the workplace by giving inaccurate sub-par reports to her superiors in the company.

When Rhoda learned that the young woman was of Haitian decent and not African American, her negative feelings towards the twenty-five year old grew stronger. She was determined not to have “one of those people” in a position of leadership within the company. More employees, mostly of color, made complaints of harassment and mistreatment to officials in the human resources department to no avail. The “good ole boy” network was alive and well in this company; it would seem that Jim Crow was on the board of directors. Many employees trusted in the system feeling that no one could get away with such appalling behavior in the workplace… they were wrong.

Rhoda’s health gradually took a turn for the worse causing her to take many medications especially to control her pain. She became inflicted with more kidney stones and a cancerous spot on her forehead that had to be treated with laser surgery. Her home life continually got worse as well. Her elderly father lived with her and also had a myriad of health problems as well as being an angry alcoholic. Rhoda’s husband was ill as well and suffered from more severe alcoholism.

The couple hadn’t had made love in three years, but her husband had sex at least once a month courtesy of local drug addicted prostitutes. Rhoda’s daughter was also sickly at a young age suffering from Croans disease. Rhoda found herself keeping her rambunctious yet overweight grandsons more often due to their often absentee father’s flings and binges. The pills became primary in her life. She popped them like candy at work and often thoughts and ideas escaped her. Negative side effects from the drugs became more evident as her addiction to them grew stronger and stronger. They unfortunately no longer eased her pain but she needed them desperately.

Many nights Rhoda sat up and cried, wondering why all of these terrible things were happening to her without giving a second’s thought to how she behaved towards other people daily. All of the lives she adversely affected with her destructive behavior never crossed her mind. She had been littering the lives of other people with lethal loathing not realizing or appreciating that her chickens would one day come home to roost.

“Shut up all that damn noise in there you dumb fat bitch!”

Rhoda was snapped from her self pitying by the sound of her husband’s booming voice as he slurred his drunk words. She could hear him bumping around into the walls of the hallway on his way to the bathroom. Rhoda mumbled curses to herself.

“That dumb ass is probably going to piss all over the damned floor and toilet seat, more mess for me to clean up around here. Shit! Why do I have to go through this?” “Shut ‘yo flabby ass up in there bitch!”

Her husband cursed her for making comments about him that he hadn’t heard. He just knew from history that she would be saying something. When drunk the man could have a violent temper and forget everything by breakfast. Rhoda felt fortunate that her father had drank himself to sleep so she didn’t have to contend with two sick, drunk old men.

“I just want to be held… to be loved. There ain’t no love in my life.”

Rhoda sobbed into her pillow then jumped from pain caused by her friends the stones. She cried harder and felt more depressed as she reached under her bed for her fifth of Wild Turkey. A drink was poured and pills were popped helping her to numb her emotional as well as physical pains, if only temporarily. She awakened two hours later to the sound of her husband urinating on the night stand next to her bed. It took several moments for her to gather her senses and realize what was going on. By that time she had been splashed and sprayed with warm urine as she sat up. Before she could say a word, her husband turned and left the room to return to his bed in the guest room. He was drunk sleep walking again. Rhoda got up to shower away her husband’s waste and was hit with more pain from her “karma stones”. More pills were taken and more tears were shed in the shower. She exited the shower thirty minutes later and changed the linen on her bed. She lay down and looked at her alarm clock; there were only three hours until she had to be to work.

She set her alarm and awoke with the worse case of dry mouth she had ever encountered. After a cup of coffee, shower and putting her face on she felt up to going in to work. Her father and husband would have to fend for themselves on this morning. Her pessimism about her own life turned to optimism as she thought of how she would start her work day with injurious behavior towards a work rival. She planned on putting that “black bitch” in her place just like the rest of them, even if the woman did have twelve years seniority on her in the company and was the only African American manager in the company of 5,200 employees. Rhoda’s juices began to flow as she got closer to the work place and the opportunity to do battle. Conflict and confrontation put a special gleam in her eye and joy in her heart. Rhoda was now ready to once again spend her day littering lives with her lethal loathing and, her night sadly sympathizing with her self inflicted sorrow.

Lethal Loathing Littering Lives
If you litter other’s lives with loathing, there will eventually be perils and putrid pollution in yours.

Mayhem Manifested through the Makings of a Manic Methhead

Mayhem Manifested through the Makings of a Manic Methhead

Robert sat in his dingy apartment on the living room floor surrounded by disassembled clock radios and various tools. He’d been awake for three days; the hallucinations and paranoia were becoming more intense. So much so that he was having a difficult time distinguishing reality from fantasy. In his mind he was beginning to believe that he was repairing his space craft so that he could get off this foreign planet and join his crew on the mother ship before returning to their galaxy.

He smoked more and his disillusions became that much more concentrated and extreme. Robert was now hull up in a cave with his craft hidden just yards away in some bushes; he could not allow himself to be discovered or for his plan to be revealed. Robert commandeered an earth weapon six days earlier in an attempt to defend himself against the inhabitants of this odd world. He hunched over his work sweating and picking at a sore he had caused on his left forearm. He dug deeper as his mind raced trying to figure out how to get the combaculator reception accumulator to work. Delusional Robert switched arms as his left began to leak blood from the fresh irritated and infected wound. He panicked seeing his bodily fluids spewing from his arm and assumed he had been hit by the enemy. Surely they were attempting to cease his life function.

Robert took cover and frantically tried to bandage his arm using plastic wrap and electric tape. He checked his earth weapon and laid in wait for his attackers. Just then his stoner friend Timmy and Rusty their dealer walked through the door. Robert stood and fired the 44caliber pistol six times at the intruders then ducked back behind the sofa he was using as cover. After brief screams there was silence. Robert reloaded then stood again to see another of the enemy, he fired three more shots.

The building superintendent, Mr. Sanchez fell to the floor without clutching or screaming. He was dead from the first shot to the head from the large caliber firearm. Robert ducked back down with the gun smoking in his hand; his position had been compromised. He needed to find an escape. Robert stepped over and through the lifeless bodies at his threshold and inched his way down the hallway. As he made his was through the woods towards his vessel he encountered more adversaries in uniforms holding weapons. He fired on sight catching one of the officers in the right arm. The other officer took aim and shot Robert in the chest ending his mission. Robert never made it out of this odd world and onto the mother ship but in his drug induced lunacy he did manage to take three lives and end the career of a decorated police officer. Meth is a hell of a drug!