The Ls400 hell trip part 1
01-18-19, 11:20 AM
#16
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its funny. although it was 2008, i had been broke for a long time, this was south Florida and rarely got cold, so i was just about always no shirt no shoes guy. i was also dressing like a rapper from 1999, as i still had a lot of my old Fubu, Jnco, Southpole and Enyce stuff from way back.. that i still wore. thats right, big baggy shorts, baggy pants, shirts too big for me, even in 2008, it was way way out of fashion, however all still mostly in good condition as i had moved to south florida several years prior, and didn't wear the stuff much. at the time i also had one of those big silver chains that everyone used to wear. as broke as i was, i still tried to stay somewhat fashionable. so here i come out to the old farm transport bus, climb into the cage with everyone else to head to the Cain field, and a lot of the guys looked at me, then started talking among themselves. one points at me, and says in very broken English and thick accent, "leewood" "U HOLLYWOOD" they all start laughing. i hadn't really said much to anyone on the farm bus the day before so it was sort of an ice breaker. "I Jose" one says, and shakes my hand, "I Tito" the other says and shakes my hand, Tito was from Guatemala, and had been in the states long enough to speak and hold a conversation with. "you pick with us today, and drink beer with after yes?" hell, the idea of a cold beer absolutely made my mouth water! "sure Tito" i say. "hollywood, you one of us?" -im white, but mixed Italian and many people thought i was Hispanic when i was younger, especially after being in the sun a lot. i told him where i was from. "Hollywood, you one of us now, welcome amigo!" "ever picked sugarcane before hollywood?" "nope never" i said. everyone in the truck goes. oooooooooooo and starts cracking up. the way the farms culture was actually much like any other business model, Tito, was a supervisor of sorts for this group of 10 men. Jose was the leader of his team of men. Tee, was the boss of him and most of the rest of the migrant workers, which was about 100 or so. Larry & Paul, were like the corporate executives, and Brazwell AKA "Bossman" was the CEO, really more like the king or Dictator honestly. bus pulls up at the field. we all climbed out and there in front of me, was the sugarcane that looked oh-so tiny, driving past it going 80 MPH, was taller then i, Paul, opens up a storage compartment on the side of the old school bus and starts passing out machetes, sacks, and wheelbarrows, "Vamonos amigos" Tito says, he hands me a machete, a sack, and we descend into the field.
in modern times, really for many years, sugarcane it a fully automated process using giant machines to harvest. there was really no reason at all to have people doing manual labor since the large machines that do this kind of stuff have been around for decades. apparently, it was much more profitable for Brazwell and his farm plus it was much more low-key then massive loud machines doing all the work, which by the way, is absolutely back breaking. the stalks themselves are thick and heavy, as well as razor sharp. a lot of these guys had scars on their arms from being sliced by it, as well as ripped cloths. at 23, i was in pretty good shape. i was lean, cut, and fairly strong, yet even then it was downright insufferable. now at 34, older less toned, and overweight, i really dont think i could have made it an hour out in that field. the sun was absolutely baking hot, and was probably close to 100 degrees in the field. i was sweating profusely in the baggy jeans and long sleeve shirt. bright red, my heart was pounding and i was feeling light headed by noon. the hours passed and i got weaker and weaker to the point i was barley able to cut the stuff down. thats it i thought. -i was going to die of dehydration and heatstroke in a ****ing sugarcane field. i collapsed. Tito comes to me, "take it easy amigo just dont rest too long here my cantina" he hands me the last of his water. honestly i couldn't believe it, that another human being, would literally sacrifice their lifeline for someone else. after sitting for a few mins drinking water and resting, i was back up long enough to finish the days work. by the time the bus came back to get us all, i was absolutley exausted, had rips in my cloths, and my arms felt like jelly.
in modern times, really for many years, sugarcane it a fully automated process using giant machines to harvest. there was really no reason at all to have people doing manual labor since the large machines that do this kind of stuff have been around for decades. apparently, it was much more profitable for Brazwell and his farm plus it was much more low-key then massive loud machines doing all the work, which by the way, is absolutely back breaking. the stalks themselves are thick and heavy, as well as razor sharp. a lot of these guys had scars on their arms from being sliced by it, as well as ripped cloths. at 23, i was in pretty good shape. i was lean, cut, and fairly strong, yet even then it was downright insufferable. now at 34, older less toned, and overweight, i really dont think i could have made it an hour out in that field. the sun was absolutely baking hot, and was probably close to 100 degrees in the field. i was sweating profusely in the baggy jeans and long sleeve shirt. bright red, my heart was pounding and i was feeling light headed by noon. the hours passed and i got weaker and weaker to the point i was barley able to cut the stuff down. thats it i thought. -i was going to die of dehydration and heatstroke in a ****ing sugarcane field. i collapsed. Tito comes to me, "take it easy amigo just dont rest too long here my cantina" he hands me the last of his water. honestly i couldn't believe it, that another human being, would literally sacrifice their lifeline for someone else. after sitting for a few mins drinking water and resting, i was back up long enough to finish the days work. by the time the bus came back to get us all, i was absolutley exausted, had rips in my cloths, and my arms felt like jelly.
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oldskewel (01-18-19)
01-18-19, 03:05 PM
#18
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everyone climbs back on the bus. we were all very tired but everybody was in good spirits. why? it was payday! however, as we were driving back to the compound, from the corner of my eye, i saw what i swore was Tee, beating the **** out of someone out in the orange grove, adjacent to the cane field. they were far back in between the trees on a path and wasn't sure exactly it was him as i only caught a quick flash of this. about 3 seconds later, i saw bossman walking down the path in the grove, headed their way. i couldnt hear anything over the diesel engine and the chatter on the bus. Tito says to me and the others, Amigos, "esta noche bebemos como los peces y olvidamos este lugar miserable!" roughly translated to "tonight we forget this hell and celebrate!" turns to me and says, "hollywood, amigo, we must speak later" "okay" i say.
once back at the compound, we all climbed off the bus, to the point in front of the pavilion where the pathways were. Larry was in the pavilion, filling coolers with ice. everybody gathered, talking among each other when bossman and Tee pull up in a Black Lincoln town car. Tee steps out first, walks around to the rear right passenger door. and Bossman steps out. when this happened, it was quiet enough you could hear a mouse fart across in the field.
Bossman, A.K.A. Royston James Brazwell IV, as i would find out later, was a thin older man in his late 50s, he stood about 6'2, had a long face, bushy white eyebrows, and wrinkled way past his age. He always wore the same thing. a black collar long-sleeve shirt, black slacks, aviator style sunglasses and a black stetson hat and always walked with either a chrome plated double barrel shotgun, or a gold AK-47. he wasnt a fast person. he moved slower, carried himself almost military like, always had zero expression of emotion of any kind, and gave off a vibe as cold and dark as his outfit.
"AMIGOS reúnen por favor". says Tee
all of us gather in a line much like a military drill call. Larry, Tee, and Paul all standing at attention like soldiers. Bossman comes in behind them, stops, pulls a Cigar of some sort. then lights it. he whispers something to Tee. Tee nods his head, turns towards one of the men in the crowd, and motions for him to come to him. the man looked absolutely terrified. "HIJO DE PUTA SIN VALOR!!!!" Tee yells at the man, who is at that point beginning to shake. -honestly i thought we were just getting paid for our weeks work, and had absolutely no idea what was going on! what followed horrified and scared me on belief. Bossman Quickly turns around, pointing his chrome double barrel shotgun directly at the mans head, "Me disculpo Me disculpo" the man begins to scream, shaking. Bossman ***** the gun. the man continues to shake and wet his pants in terror. i really thought they were going to kill him. we all did. bossman puts the gun down, grins and chuckles. "Take em to the post" bossman says to Tee. the man starts to scream again. "SHUT YOUR ****ING MOUTH OR ILL CUT YOU TO PIECES!!" bossman exclaimes to the man. Tee and paul then lead the man down the path to the left, out into the grove someplace. bossman then hands Larry an envelope full of cash, and walks back to the Town Car, gets in, closes the door, and rolls up the window.
once back at the compound, we all climbed off the bus, to the point in front of the pavilion where the pathways were. Larry was in the pavilion, filling coolers with ice. everybody gathered, talking among each other when bossman and Tee pull up in a Black Lincoln town car. Tee steps out first, walks around to the rear right passenger door. and Bossman steps out. when this happened, it was quiet enough you could hear a mouse fart across in the field.
Bossman, A.K.A. Royston James Brazwell IV, as i would find out later, was a thin older man in his late 50s, he stood about 6'2, had a long face, bushy white eyebrows, and wrinkled way past his age. He always wore the same thing. a black collar long-sleeve shirt, black slacks, aviator style sunglasses and a black stetson hat and always walked with either a chrome plated double barrel shotgun, or a gold AK-47. he wasnt a fast person. he moved slower, carried himself almost military like, always had zero expression of emotion of any kind, and gave off a vibe as cold and dark as his outfit.
"AMIGOS reúnen por favor". says Tee
all of us gather in a line much like a military drill call. Larry, Tee, and Paul all standing at attention like soldiers. Bossman comes in behind them, stops, pulls a Cigar of some sort. then lights it. he whispers something to Tee. Tee nods his head, turns towards one of the men in the crowd, and motions for him to come to him. the man looked absolutely terrified. "HIJO DE PUTA SIN VALOR!!!!" Tee yells at the man, who is at that point beginning to shake. -honestly i thought we were just getting paid for our weeks work, and had absolutely no idea what was going on! what followed horrified and scared me on belief. Bossman Quickly turns around, pointing his chrome double barrel shotgun directly at the mans head, "Me disculpo Me disculpo" the man begins to scream, shaking. Bossman ***** the gun. the man continues to shake and wet his pants in terror. i really thought they were going to kill him. we all did. bossman puts the gun down, grins and chuckles. "Take em to the post" bossman says to Tee. the man starts to scream again. "SHUT YOUR ****ING MOUTH OR ILL CUT YOU TO PIECES!!" bossman exclaimes to the man. Tee and paul then lead the man down the path to the left, out into the grove someplace. bossman then hands Larry an envelope full of cash, and walks back to the Town Car, gets in, closes the door, and rolls up the window.
01-18-19, 03:57 PM
#19
Lexus Test Driver
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Larry opens the envelope, and starts passing $50 bills to everyone. "gracias Seńor" "gracias Seńor" "gracias Seńor", each one says as Larry hands them the cash. i was already terrified about what had just happened. what did he do? i thought. what on earth did that poor man do to have a shotgun shoved in his face and dragged back into the grove to have god knows what happen to him?! and $50 for an entire week of hell **** dirt work for these guys? seriously?? thats all they get for all of that?! i wanted to slap the **** out of the mother****er! larry gets to me. "for you, boy. nice work today". -clearly i could tell what was going on here. they were white, i was white, but the rest of the workers were not. very sad that thats how it went in this place. i had worked 2 days and made as much as these poor migrant workers made in a week. yes, sad and unfair, but it also made me realize i would be able to get my car fixed and the hell out of this god forsaken place sooner if i played my cards right with these guys. some of the men went back to the dorm building, some stayed at the pavilion. i started back towards the pavilion untill Tito yells, "ay hollywood, amigo!, Vamos!" " ok gimme like 5 minutes man i gotta change out of this crap" i say, "amigo, you cońo perra? Vamos!" 5 other guys start laughing "hollywood jajajajajajajajaja" i felt confused as i didnt know what the **** Tito had just asked me but Larry walking past me to the brown truck says, "tito just asked if you were a ***** *** *****".. figures.. i run to catch up with tito and the rest of the group as they all jump in the back of the truck. "where to?" "almacenar" tito says. "huh?" "store" Tito says. on the ride up to the Circle K up on 98 and Connors highway i asked Tito how he and the others could accept such a small amount of money for so much work. "amigo" Tito says, "all of us no supposed to be here, they catch us, we deported" "50 seem small but at home, 50 of your money almost 1000 of ours. we send most to our families and keep pequeńo for us. we have everything we need at farm. except drink and smoke' "gotcha" i say to Tito.
we pull up to the Circle K. everyone hops out of the truck and goes inside, buying beer chips, snacks and cigarettes. "Hi Rob!" jen says from behind the counter. "these guys giving you a hard time yet"? "Na, not yet" as i get 4 packs of smokes and a case of rolling rock. "they seem like a good group of folks. see you next week" i say. "bye rob" she says.
we pull up to the Circle K. everyone hops out of the truck and goes inside, buying beer chips, snacks and cigarettes. "Hi Rob!" jen says from behind the counter. "these guys giving you a hard time yet"? "Na, not yet" as i get 4 packs of smokes and a case of rolling rock. "they seem like a good group of folks. see you next week" i say. "bye rob" she says.
01-18-19, 10:56 PM
#20
This is a very interesting and eye-opening read. It really changes your perspective on life..
You should really publish a book.
You should really publish a book.
01-19-19, 06:01 AM
#21
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Thread Starter
it was a shocking and very much life changing experience. it totally re-wired my entire state of mind. it goes alot deeper than that and yes, i am writing a book. this is just a snapshot of some of the terrible **** i witnessed that migrant workers face everyday. well, they did back then at least. in the immediate-pre social media era.like i said, these cars go way beyond a hobby for me. it is much much deeper then that. i didnt start this thread with the intentions of it going so far deep into this, but as ive been typing, its brought alot of old memories back that i'd blocked out of my mind. **** i really didnt want to remember, but ive just kept typing, while more and more keeps coming to the surface. im not going even 10% of what i saw go down on that farm and ill not do so. i have thought about just wrapping this thread up with a short bull**** ending several times, and if the admins decide thats the best course of action, they may and i dont blame them. ill will continue now..
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CELSI0R (01-19-19)
01-19-19, 06:36 AM
#22
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Larry starts up the old Long bed brown Chevy truck and everyone starts climb into it. Jen waves goodbye at me and i wave back. seemed like the had a bit of an interest of me, and although she was kind of trashy, she was kinda cute, and let me tell you, when you are on a farm working with a large group of men everyday without a single female in sight, just about anything of the other sex starts to look real REAL good. as we started to pull away, everyone starts popping thier beers, Tito starts punching me in the arm.. "aye amigo, chica like you!!" "yeah, you think? i say. "jajaja" Tito laughs, "you go see her manana!" "Tito thats a hell of a ****ing walk back to the farm" "Si Si hollywood, but worth it..." just then, here comes 5 Palm Beach County sheriff cruisers lights on sirens screaming, flying down highway 98. "dadgummit! Get down GET DOWN!! EVERYBODY get down!" everyone in the back of the truck is terrified, spilling beer all over the truck bed, hiding a giant brown tarp. "BOY, GET ER *** UP HEH CASE WE GET YANKED!" it was at that moment i realized everyone here really was either an illegal, or a fugitive of some sort. we are sitting at the red light waiting to cross onto Connors Hwy, thinking everybody's world was about to get turned upside down, absolutely petrified. suddenly the cruisers were there. one stopped directly in front of the truck, with a spot light right at us. we were frozen, but kept a straight face and flat affect. the door opens and the officer steps out of the car, and heads up to us with a spotlight "**** thats it!!" "DRIVER SHOW YOUR HANDS AND TURN OFF YOUR VEHICLE" the officer says loudly, pointing his service pistol right at us. a tear begins to roll down Larrys cheek. never thought id ever see that happen. the windshield was dirty enough that the officer couldn't see exactly who we were. just as larry reached for the keys to turn off the truck. something crackled over the radio the cop was wearing. suddenly he holstered his gun, quickly turned around, got back in his cruiser, and went driving off into the night. the light turns green, and we start driving down Conners Hwy. everyone in the truck was silent and looked white as a ghost, exept for one guy in the back softly weeping and saying a prayer. "Man that was some super trooper **** right damn there!" "Y'all can come out now. everyone slowly emerges from the tarp. Larry turns to me and says, "super trooper ****, what kinda dumb horses *** **** is that" Tito hears this. "super troopers!" he says, "AMIGOS, SUPER TROOPERS!!" "SUPER TROOPERS JAJAJAJA HOLLYWOOD JAJAJA" cheering it all the way back to the farm.
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DaveGS4 (01-21-19)
01-22-19, 10:30 AM
#25
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"watch yer head" Larry says, as we drive under the half fallen palm tree, driving up to the farm. after what had just happened, Larry was still slightly shaken. he turns to me and says with a serious tone, "boy, what happened out there stays in this hur truck. them in the back know too. keep ya trap shut or you will regret it later." i hear Tito speaking to the guys in the back as well. they all looked kinda scared. truck stops at the pavilion. everyone breathes a sigh of relief now back at the farm. everyone jumps out of the truck and grabbs the beer. it was 9:30 PM by then and still humid, about 90 degrees, and i was absolutley sweltering. larry parks the truck and cracks open a budwiser. "no work tomorrow boy. gunna be a fire down yonder by the pond and a pig on the ground. get on outta here and relax", again, notta dadgum word". "loud n clear" i say. as i head back to the dorm i see what looks like the man that got dragged off into the glades, exit the dorm and quickly walk down a path out toward the grove and vanish. weird i thought. i get in the dorm, and i hear spanish music and lots of laughter and chatter out back. i quickly kick off the now ripped to hell and filthy southpole jeans, put on a pair of khaki shorts and head out back to the outhouse. i had to take a **** for the last day & 1/2 and couldnt hold it any longer. i REALLY didnt wanna go to the outhouse. but at that point, it wasnt a choice. i walk out behind the dorm. Tito and about 20 other guys were sitting on longs, drinking, talking loudly and had a good size bonfire going. i REALLY just wanted to go take a **** first so tried to quickly walk pass them. "Ay Hollywood, here amigo!" everyone turns around and looks at me. damnit. "need to take a ****, give me 5 of em and ill be back". (something ive always said when referring to give me 5 or 10 minutes and ill be back) "5 what?! i give you 5 dollar to wipe *** with?!" "No brother ill be back manana" -me thinking that ment a few mins, my spanish clearly not very good. "you spend all night in Caca?!" tito turns to the guys and says in spanish "hollywood is a strange one, he wants to spend all night in the outhouse playing with **** and wiping his *** with a $5 bill" everyone turns and looks at me kinda funny and somewhat appalled. IM TAKING A DUMP ILL BE BACK IN 5 MINUTES!!" Tito says. "okay" turns to the guys and says in spanish, "he doesnt know our lanuguage much, so **** with him as much as you can" everyone starts laughing. i walked to the outhouse, held my nose, and closed the door. christ it stunk so bad, i wanted to gag. ever been to one of those all day music fests or sporting event in the summer? you know how bad the porto-potties smell after festering in the sun all day? try that by 1,000.
needless to say, i was out of there as quick as possible. as i leave the outhouse, behind the ambient noise of the gators splashing, frogs in the pond, the mosquito buzzing around my head, and the distant laughing talking and ethnic music playing in the background, again, i hear a very faint, and distant scream. this was now the 3rd time i had heard what sounded like someone in absolute agony far away. when someone screams, you can almost tell by the tone of it, what kind of scream it is. it could be fear and terror, it could be pain & suffering, it could be anger or frustration. it can also be from loss and incredible heartbreak. this particular scream however, seemed to be all of the above and it was terrifying.
"Hollywood, amigo"! Tito said, as i walk up to the crowd, "sit and drink with us!" and hands me a cold steel reserve. -Steel reserve is some of the skunkiest, foul stuff one could imagine, but after that day, it tasted like heavens nectar. i sat on a tree stump, along with the rest of the guys sitting around the fire, which was blazing hot. Tee also walks over, cracks open a beer, and we have a conversation. "so, why the hollywood name?" i say to Tito. "amigo", tito says, "you no look like one of us, you no speak like one of us". "the fancy cloths, the silver chains and watch you wear, you look like one would see on movie, like a star". these guys were so impoverished, old ripped and faided Fubu, Jnco, and southpole stuff that was already long past its expiration date, was still nicer and looked newer than anything they had ever seen or wore themselfs. very sad honestly. Tee gets up and walks away. Titos face changes with concern. "Amigo, you can no trust him. Tee is close with bossman, who also, you cannot trust" "Tee picked me up. if it hadnt been for Tee and Larry, id still be on the side of the road" i say. everyone kind of looks at me and starts chuckling. "Tee pick all of us up. that what he do amigo'. "he pick us up, work us, in return, we get to stay, we get to send money to family, and we get to hide". "sin no of us supposed to be here, they treat us any way they want. you see" Tito said. and after what i had witnessed earlier that day, i believed him. "we must do what make bossman happy. otherwise, we go poof" "poof??" i said
needless to say, i was out of there as quick as possible. as i leave the outhouse, behind the ambient noise of the gators splashing, frogs in the pond, the mosquito buzzing around my head, and the distant laughing talking and ethnic music playing in the background, again, i hear a very faint, and distant scream. this was now the 3rd time i had heard what sounded like someone in absolute agony far away. when someone screams, you can almost tell by the tone of it, what kind of scream it is. it could be fear and terror, it could be pain & suffering, it could be anger or frustration. it can also be from loss and incredible heartbreak. this particular scream however, seemed to be all of the above and it was terrifying.
"Hollywood, amigo"! Tito said, as i walk up to the crowd, "sit and drink with us!" and hands me a cold steel reserve. -Steel reserve is some of the skunkiest, foul stuff one could imagine, but after that day, it tasted like heavens nectar. i sat on a tree stump, along with the rest of the guys sitting around the fire, which was blazing hot. Tee also walks over, cracks open a beer, and we have a conversation. "so, why the hollywood name?" i say to Tito. "amigo", tito says, "you no look like one of us, you no speak like one of us". "the fancy cloths, the silver chains and watch you wear, you look like one would see on movie, like a star". these guys were so impoverished, old ripped and faided Fubu, Jnco, and southpole stuff that was already long past its expiration date, was still nicer and looked newer than anything they had ever seen or wore themselfs. very sad honestly. Tee gets up and walks away. Titos face changes with concern. "Amigo, you can no trust him. Tee is close with bossman, who also, you cannot trust" "Tee picked me up. if it hadnt been for Tee and Larry, id still be on the side of the road" i say. everyone kind of looks at me and starts chuckling. "Tee pick all of us up. that what he do amigo'. "he pick us up, work us, in return, we get to stay, we get to send money to family, and we get to hide". "sin no of us supposed to be here, they treat us any way they want. you see" Tito said. and after what i had witnessed earlier that day, i believed him. "we must do what make bossman happy. otherwise, we go poof" "poof??" i said
01-22-19, 03:53 PM
#26
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Thread Starter
A few mins later, Larry walks over to the fire. when i saw him, i asked about that phone call that i needed to make to my folks. it had been awhile now and for all i knew they probably thought i had got eaten by a gator someplace! larry looks at me and says, "boy, im a man of my word. round yonder in the barn, theirs a phone, just dont spend too much time on it and dont give out too much information about where and who you are with!" "understood" i say and start over to the barn, walking through what was pretty tall grass under my feet. at one point i stepped on what felt like a snake. i got to my car along with the other vehicles parked in that strange little junkyard/storage lot and there sits Oreo, as per usual, sitting on the roof of my old Ls400. this time he had what looked like an iguana he was gnawing on. did a quick check on the turtle and he was fine, then made my way into the barn. the barn looked like nobody had been inside it for awhile, but when i pulled the old rusty loose chain and opened the creaky door, behind it to my absolute delight was an old black rotory phone mounted on a post along with some other odds and ends. one thing i was REALLY glad to see was a bunch of tools! i clicked on the old fluorescent lamp which buzzed and flickered as it came on, and sure enough it had basically everything i needed to get my car back on the road, minus the parts i had to replace. i walked past the large amount of tools and bench to the phone. i picked the receiver up off the handle. it was scratchy and faint, but there was a dial tone there. now, even by then Rotary phones were a serious relic but some were still in use like this one. i had kinda forgot how long it took to crank out a 10 Digit phone number on one of those things. 4.. tick tick tick tick...0 tick. 7..tick tick tick tick tick tick tick the rotor itself was scraping, probably from sitting awhile. god only knew when the last time it had even been used. 8-9-5-4-5-7-3.. it began to ring.
it rang several times before my dad picked up. "Dad!" i say. "BOBBY WHERE IN THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? WEVE ALL BEEN WORRIED ABSOLUTELY SICK ABOUT YOU" i hear over the static of the loosely connected handset. turns out my folks had been seriously freaking out as they hadn't heard from me in nearly a week and had started making phone calls. my father had actually reported me missing to the Florida state troopers as well as the palm beach sheriffs department. thank god i got my car safely parked at the farm. i explained that i had fallen asleep with the windows down and that my phone was ruined by rain water. "i was lucky dad, some folks picked me up off the side of the road and i-"... dad cut me off." Bobby, where are you? ill call a cab to get you to a train station so we can get you home", then i told him how remote i was from anything and he started to get angry, but he wanted me home anyway. "the people that picked me up have a farm, and im working for them so i can get my car back on the road" -just then i hear a click like someone else had picked up another phone on the property and was eavesdropping. "yeah? who are they and where is this place?" "im still in the glades" i say. "Bobby, you are a complete and total IDIOT for wasting your time doing dirt work so you can bring that stupid car home, but honestly, i think this could be the best thing for you. some good old fashion hard work, maybe you'll appreciate a real job when you get one up here" says my dad. just then i hear the barn door open and Larry steps in. "i dont know who these people are, but im glad they took you in. they are a godsend and make sure you thank them profusely for humoring your nonsense and foolishness!" "okay dad, well im safe and ill be home probably in a couple weeks" i say. "ill keep you updated best i can dad" "we love you bobby. just be careful!". click.
"you aint say where you is at now did you boy" "tell me you did the right thing now boy" Larry crosses his arms and looks at me maliciously.. "i kept it brief and i didn't tell them anything more then that im working on a farm to fix my car and get back on the road man" i say.
clearly, it was a test of some kind, as someone was definitely eavesdropping in on my call.....
it rang several times before my dad picked up. "Dad!" i say. "BOBBY WHERE IN THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? WEVE ALL BEEN WORRIED ABSOLUTELY SICK ABOUT YOU" i hear over the static of the loosely connected handset. turns out my folks had been seriously freaking out as they hadn't heard from me in nearly a week and had started making phone calls. my father had actually reported me missing to the Florida state troopers as well as the palm beach sheriffs department. thank god i got my car safely parked at the farm. i explained that i had fallen asleep with the windows down and that my phone was ruined by rain water. "i was lucky dad, some folks picked me up off the side of the road and i-"... dad cut me off." Bobby, where are you? ill call a cab to get you to a train station so we can get you home", then i told him how remote i was from anything and he started to get angry, but he wanted me home anyway. "the people that picked me up have a farm, and im working for them so i can get my car back on the road" -just then i hear a click like someone else had picked up another phone on the property and was eavesdropping. "yeah? who are they and where is this place?" "im still in the glades" i say. "Bobby, you are a complete and total IDIOT for wasting your time doing dirt work so you can bring that stupid car home, but honestly, i think this could be the best thing for you. some good old fashion hard work, maybe you'll appreciate a real job when you get one up here" says my dad. just then i hear the barn door open and Larry steps in. "i dont know who these people are, but im glad they took you in. they are a godsend and make sure you thank them profusely for humoring your nonsense and foolishness!" "okay dad, well im safe and ill be home probably in a couple weeks" i say. "ill keep you updated best i can dad" "we love you bobby. just be careful!". click.
"you aint say where you is at now did you boy" "tell me you did the right thing now boy" Larry crosses his arms and looks at me maliciously.. "i kept it brief and i didn't tell them anything more then that im working on a farm to fix my car and get back on the road man" i say.
clearly, it was a test of some kind, as someone was definitely eavesdropping in on my call.....
01-23-19, 07:35 AM
#27
Lexus Test Driver
Thread Starter
For the rest of the evening, myself and the other migrant workers sat around the fire, drinking laughing and relaxing. at around 1 am, the back door of the dorm building opens. larry walks down the steps. "tito, time for everyone to get to bed. Tito sucks his teeth and looks at Larry. "please, me and my people work hard all week, we no ready to sleep. Tee walks over to the fire as well. "AHORA MISMO!" he says. with disappointment everyone gets up, and begins to shuffle into the dorm.. Tee looks at me, "see you manana" and they close the door.
i didnt have any blankets it was stinking hot anyway so i just rolled up a few shirts and made a makeshift Pillow out of them. Tito says to me from the bunk over, "this place like jail sometime. **** them **** those culos! one day we get out of here!" and rolls over.
i roll over on my back and put my hands behind my head. the air was thick and about 85 degrees inside the dorm, and it smelled absolutley horrible, as nobody had any kind of toiletries out there. i imagined what pioneer life may have been like. was it sort of like this? the hum of the industrial fan on the other side of the building sort of became hypnotic, along with the sounds of the frogs and crickets outside by the pond. the noise was almost defining, but in a way soothing. i had also sort had already been conditioned before to live without sleeping in freon cooled rooms before. i had lived in that old trailer in Lake worth for 2 years without it. the first few weeks were hell but it is amazing how quickly the human body can adapt to it surroundings. mad had lived without Air Conditioning for thousands of years and it had only been around for 50 years or so. as i closed my eyes, i reflected on my life, where i had come from, how i ended up in the situation i was currently in, and how much my life had changed from living in a penthouse in downtown Orlando, to a wood bunk in a box in the woods. things like this simply dont happen to silver spoon kids like myself, yet here i was.
at 17, i was well on my way to set myself up for failure. instead of hanging out with the other brats and instead hung out with the bad kids from the other side of the street. the neighborhood i had grown up in was well, your traditional typical upper-middle class area with both large and small homes, mostly made up of 1920s and 1950s architecture with brick streets, pretty lakes and large oak trees full of spanish moss. College Park it was called, even though it was no place near a college, but most of the streets had been named after them like Stetson, Yale, Harvard, Vassar, and Rollins. it had a real sense of community and was more like a city within a city. College park was one of orlandos first suburbs first platted in the 1920s. it also had what was its own small downtown commerical street, Edgewater Drive, full of mom and pop stores and restaurants of all kinds. many had been there for decades. College park was one of those places that never really seemed to change, but it did in the late 90s when the McMansion craze started, wrecking and rebuilding almost everything. however some areas werent really effected by this until much later. college park was also somewhat segregated really into 3 sections. the very wealthy lived around Lake Ivanhoe, where i grew up. the middle class lived around Lake Silver , but the lower blue collar folks lived on the other side of Edgewater Drive, and on the "other side of I-4", a small section of College park that had been cut off when they put the interstate through the city back in the 1960s. the other side of the highway was very rough and all of the trouble was over there. i ended up hanging with the kids from that side of the neighborhood, as they were considered the bad boys, the tough guys, and the guys that all the girls wanted, and honestly, just more fun to be around. instead of golfing and playing Lacrosse like the other kids, i was smoking joints under the highway overpass, skipping school, getting into fights, and taking virginities. my folks were not happy and i dont blame them, as i was the Black sheep of my family. i was the kid getting in trouble, getting caught by the truant officer, catching pot charges in the 8th grade and multiple other arrests for theft, assault, vandalizum and so on.however, my family didnt like the gossip and still tried best they could to keep that plastic college park face. of course what came with that was my own bank card, nice cloths, flashy cars, and all the other perks of being a rich kid so needless to say i was pretty popular in many circles.
by the time i was 17, in only a year i had managed to trash several expensive cars. a classic pontiac from the 1950s, a BMW 740iL, a mercedes 300e.. when i was 17, one of my dads business friends, Jim Rodgers for whatever reason took a liking to me and wanted to help me get rich. he was a commercial property broker, and my father was an appraiser as well as developer, and this was during the start of the serious real estate bubble that swept the country, eventually crashing and bringing the country into the great recession. Jim seemed like a pretty cool dude. like myself, he liked to party. he was in his 40s, no kids, single and women loved him. honestly i think he was going through a mid-life crisis. Jim drove a brand new 1999 Lexus LS400, and ill never forget the first time i rode in it with him. it was by far one of the sleekest nicest cars i personally ever thought of. even over my dads BMWs, moms Jags, Jims Lexus was just the coolest, and i really really wanted one. unfortunately my folks didnt feel the same way about those cars and just saw them as fakes, and "expensive camrys". but i had my mind made up, i had to have one. unfortunately i didnt have the almost $70,000 it would take to buy a new one, but i was able to afford the early models, well ones that were not in the greatest condition. after saving money, doing jobs, and working with jim making calls with him to property owners for awhile, i managed to save up enough dough to buy a beautiful pearl white 1990 model, that was decked out with every option you could get on them. Air suspension, nakamichi stereo, chrome turbine wheels, heated seats, a phone in the armrest. it was a really cool car. the bumpers were a little sunbleached, and the leather had a few cracks, but it ran perfect and still looked nice. it was fast enough to get me into trouble and it did a few times, and was large enough to roll around with my hoodlum friends and rip up the neighborhood in. over the next year, i added some rims to it, a system, resprayed the bumper, and by the fall it was looking pretty sweet. i ended up REALLY getting into the car and doing all kinds of stuff to it. meanwhile, the years started going by. high school ended and the rich kids went off to college. i could have gone but instead wanted to be a jackass and party, and i did. i moved out of the house at 18, when me and a few friends all threw down on a junky house for rent. 2 years later, the land boom was at its peak. in 2004, with jim, making phone calls and generating leads, i made him ALOT of money selling land and although i wasn't a licence broker or agent, Jim was doing so well that he shard the wealth with me. he didnt have any kids, and like myself he grew up in a wealthy family, and was a black sheep. i think he saw me as sort of a son in some ways.
at 20 years old, i had made $195,000 for myself working with Jim. thats a substantial amount of money for a kid who really didnt know how to handle it. i moved into a very nice apartment overlooking lake eola in downtown orlando, i had several nice cars but i always kept my 90 Ls400 as my everyday car, and at that time, it still didnt look old and dated and said money, so the image wasn't a problem. however, i had developed a severe cocaine problem to the point where i wasnt sleeping and was always having tremors and nose bleeds. it went from recreation to dependency. ill never forget snorting rails across my desk at work trying to hide it from Jim, and snorting it across the **** of females i had picked up here and there. in 2005 however, things took a turn for the worst. i started loosing more money to blow then i was making, ended up moving back home which sucked, wasnt working with jim much anymore because i was starting to be too much of a skeed out mess to make phone calls at the office. my family saw what i was doing and knew, but i denied everything. and after a long rainy night of snorting blow and drinking at a party, i spun out going too fast and planted the front end of my 90 Ls400, directly into a concrete utility pole and about 50 mph. i was okay but the car was well, trashed. i was broke at that point and couldnt afford to fix it. insurance wanted to total it but i loved the car too much to let it go, so i slowly rebuilt it myself using junkyard parts. halfway into that, i met a girl named Lindsay. real pretty girl with strawberry hair, but very pale and thin. turned out Lindsay was also a heroin addict, that unfortunately got me to try the stuff which was well, instant addiction. one night i was shooting up with Lindsay and nodded out in her apartment, and when i woke up. she was cuddled next to me, stone cold dead of an overdose, eyes open and glazed over. her face that morning is something that is seared into my mind forever. it was tramatic enough that i didn't want to feel, or think about, so deeper into the needle i went. already slipping into a severe depression, and on Christmas eve 2005, i get a knock on the door. i open it and there is 50 people in my front yard, my whole crew almost everybody i knew and ran with and had for years. some looked like they had been crying. Alyssa, one of the more popular girls in my circle, who i was also very close to and had partied alot with, is the first to speak and somehow, i already knew what she was going to say. "Bobby, something happened to Chris and Alex". Chris and Alex Hubler. two brothers that i had grown up around and that were very very close to me, had moved away from College Park to Ormond beach 2 years earlier. their family saw what was going on as they were also black sheep, picked up and moved away to basically save their kids. however they continued to party up there, but with a different crowd. they were surfer kids and had started a band. i spent alot of weekends up there hanging with them and their new friends. they saw that i was deteriorating pretty bad and kept offering to move up to Ormond with them so i could get out of dodge for awhile. and several times i was very close to taking them up on their offer. they came into Orlando several times a year, and we would always hang when they did. they had been in town that Halloween, only a few months before. when they came to my house, i however, was shooting dope with Lindsay and just ignored them. unfortunately, that was the last time i would have seen them both, outside their caskets. Everyone seems to have that story about the friend they had as a kid that did something crazy that ended up getting them killed. they were my story like that. "they were in a wreck" as tears streamed down her face. her voice turned into a sob. "turn on the news" she says. i click the TV on and it was there. "2 dead another critical in fiery beach side horror crash" Chris and Alex were riding with their band mate, Adam Hyland (another cool dude i had hung with a few times) who had just got a brand new charger, were travling back from a skate park in Daytona, when he lost control of the car and slammed head-on into a tree along John Anderson Pkwy, at over 140 mph. Adam and Alex were killed instantly, and Chris was barley hanging onto life. i immediately jumped in the LS and hauled *** to Ormond Beach to halifax hospital. unfortunately, Chris passed away about ten minutes before i got there. Thier mother was in absolute hysterics, and thier father was still so shocked, he really couldn't even speak. he just hugged me, thanked me for coming, and broke down. after that, in total and complete shock, i left the hospital in a daze and i drove to the crash site. that road was a popular place it seemed for people to want that wanted to bury the needle. it was sparsely developed at the time and not many places for cops to hide. there was a very small hill where i myself, along with Chris, Alex, and Alyssa and done 130 MPH and caught a few inches of air in my LS400. when i got to the crash site, there was two short but deeply embedded skidmarks, broken glass, a few CDs, small pieces of metal, and a large oak tree with the bark ripped off of it, seared by fire. i stood there for a few mins and noticed something on the curb that must have been forgotten. the back of chris' Motorazor phone, and Alex's smashed Rolex. i ended up using the back panel of Chris phone on my own all the way up till my Motorazor got flooded in my car, and still have Alex's Rolex to this day, which i hung on my rearview mirror for ages. driving away from the crash site that night, back to orlando, i couldnt help to think how easily that could have been me in the car with them that night, as i was up there alot with them, and had it been me driving in my car with them, i wouldnt have wrecked as i REALLY knew my car and they would still be alive. they were very popular kids in both Ormond and Orlando and the funeral was absolutely huge. over 200 people showed up and it was an absolute flood of tears. not a dry eye in the room. it was so tragic that the crash made national news. today, now almost 15 years later, they are mostly forgotten. everyone grew up and went on with their lives, but there is not a day that goes by they dont cross my mind somehow.
i didnt have any blankets it was stinking hot anyway so i just rolled up a few shirts and made a makeshift Pillow out of them. Tito says to me from the bunk over, "this place like jail sometime. **** them **** those culos! one day we get out of here!" and rolls over.
i roll over on my back and put my hands behind my head. the air was thick and about 85 degrees inside the dorm, and it smelled absolutley horrible, as nobody had any kind of toiletries out there. i imagined what pioneer life may have been like. was it sort of like this? the hum of the industrial fan on the other side of the building sort of became hypnotic, along with the sounds of the frogs and crickets outside by the pond. the noise was almost defining, but in a way soothing. i had also sort had already been conditioned before to live without sleeping in freon cooled rooms before. i had lived in that old trailer in Lake worth for 2 years without it. the first few weeks were hell but it is amazing how quickly the human body can adapt to it surroundings. mad had lived without Air Conditioning for thousands of years and it had only been around for 50 years or so. as i closed my eyes, i reflected on my life, where i had come from, how i ended up in the situation i was currently in, and how much my life had changed from living in a penthouse in downtown Orlando, to a wood bunk in a box in the woods. things like this simply dont happen to silver spoon kids like myself, yet here i was.
at 17, i was well on my way to set myself up for failure. instead of hanging out with the other brats and instead hung out with the bad kids from the other side of the street. the neighborhood i had grown up in was well, your traditional typical upper-middle class area with both large and small homes, mostly made up of 1920s and 1950s architecture with brick streets, pretty lakes and large oak trees full of spanish moss. College Park it was called, even though it was no place near a college, but most of the streets had been named after them like Stetson, Yale, Harvard, Vassar, and Rollins. it had a real sense of community and was more like a city within a city. College park was one of orlandos first suburbs first platted in the 1920s. it also had what was its own small downtown commerical street, Edgewater Drive, full of mom and pop stores and restaurants of all kinds. many had been there for decades. College park was one of those places that never really seemed to change, but it did in the late 90s when the McMansion craze started, wrecking and rebuilding almost everything. however some areas werent really effected by this until much later. college park was also somewhat segregated really into 3 sections. the very wealthy lived around Lake Ivanhoe, where i grew up. the middle class lived around Lake Silver , but the lower blue collar folks lived on the other side of Edgewater Drive, and on the "other side of I-4", a small section of College park that had been cut off when they put the interstate through the city back in the 1960s. the other side of the highway was very rough and all of the trouble was over there. i ended up hanging with the kids from that side of the neighborhood, as they were considered the bad boys, the tough guys, and the guys that all the girls wanted, and honestly, just more fun to be around. instead of golfing and playing Lacrosse like the other kids, i was smoking joints under the highway overpass, skipping school, getting into fights, and taking virginities. my folks were not happy and i dont blame them, as i was the Black sheep of my family. i was the kid getting in trouble, getting caught by the truant officer, catching pot charges in the 8th grade and multiple other arrests for theft, assault, vandalizum and so on.however, my family didnt like the gossip and still tried best they could to keep that plastic college park face. of course what came with that was my own bank card, nice cloths, flashy cars, and all the other perks of being a rich kid so needless to say i was pretty popular in many circles.
by the time i was 17, in only a year i had managed to trash several expensive cars. a classic pontiac from the 1950s, a BMW 740iL, a mercedes 300e.. when i was 17, one of my dads business friends, Jim Rodgers for whatever reason took a liking to me and wanted to help me get rich. he was a commercial property broker, and my father was an appraiser as well as developer, and this was during the start of the serious real estate bubble that swept the country, eventually crashing and bringing the country into the great recession. Jim seemed like a pretty cool dude. like myself, he liked to party. he was in his 40s, no kids, single and women loved him. honestly i think he was going through a mid-life crisis. Jim drove a brand new 1999 Lexus LS400, and ill never forget the first time i rode in it with him. it was by far one of the sleekest nicest cars i personally ever thought of. even over my dads BMWs, moms Jags, Jims Lexus was just the coolest, and i really really wanted one. unfortunately my folks didnt feel the same way about those cars and just saw them as fakes, and "expensive camrys". but i had my mind made up, i had to have one. unfortunately i didnt have the almost $70,000 it would take to buy a new one, but i was able to afford the early models, well ones that were not in the greatest condition. after saving money, doing jobs, and working with jim making calls with him to property owners for awhile, i managed to save up enough dough to buy a beautiful pearl white 1990 model, that was decked out with every option you could get on them. Air suspension, nakamichi stereo, chrome turbine wheels, heated seats, a phone in the armrest. it was a really cool car. the bumpers were a little sunbleached, and the leather had a few cracks, but it ran perfect and still looked nice. it was fast enough to get me into trouble and it did a few times, and was large enough to roll around with my hoodlum friends and rip up the neighborhood in. over the next year, i added some rims to it, a system, resprayed the bumper, and by the fall it was looking pretty sweet. i ended up REALLY getting into the car and doing all kinds of stuff to it. meanwhile, the years started going by. high school ended and the rich kids went off to college. i could have gone but instead wanted to be a jackass and party, and i did. i moved out of the house at 18, when me and a few friends all threw down on a junky house for rent. 2 years later, the land boom was at its peak. in 2004, with jim, making phone calls and generating leads, i made him ALOT of money selling land and although i wasn't a licence broker or agent, Jim was doing so well that he shard the wealth with me. he didnt have any kids, and like myself he grew up in a wealthy family, and was a black sheep. i think he saw me as sort of a son in some ways.
at 20 years old, i had made $195,000 for myself working with Jim. thats a substantial amount of money for a kid who really didnt know how to handle it. i moved into a very nice apartment overlooking lake eola in downtown orlando, i had several nice cars but i always kept my 90 Ls400 as my everyday car, and at that time, it still didnt look old and dated and said money, so the image wasn't a problem. however, i had developed a severe cocaine problem to the point where i wasnt sleeping and was always having tremors and nose bleeds. it went from recreation to dependency. ill never forget snorting rails across my desk at work trying to hide it from Jim, and snorting it across the **** of females i had picked up here and there. in 2005 however, things took a turn for the worst. i started loosing more money to blow then i was making, ended up moving back home which sucked, wasnt working with jim much anymore because i was starting to be too much of a skeed out mess to make phone calls at the office. my family saw what i was doing and knew, but i denied everything. and after a long rainy night of snorting blow and drinking at a party, i spun out going too fast and planted the front end of my 90 Ls400, directly into a concrete utility pole and about 50 mph. i was okay but the car was well, trashed. i was broke at that point and couldnt afford to fix it. insurance wanted to total it but i loved the car too much to let it go, so i slowly rebuilt it myself using junkyard parts. halfway into that, i met a girl named Lindsay. real pretty girl with strawberry hair, but very pale and thin. turned out Lindsay was also a heroin addict, that unfortunately got me to try the stuff which was well, instant addiction. one night i was shooting up with Lindsay and nodded out in her apartment, and when i woke up. she was cuddled next to me, stone cold dead of an overdose, eyes open and glazed over. her face that morning is something that is seared into my mind forever. it was tramatic enough that i didn't want to feel, or think about, so deeper into the needle i went. already slipping into a severe depression, and on Christmas eve 2005, i get a knock on the door. i open it and there is 50 people in my front yard, my whole crew almost everybody i knew and ran with and had for years. some looked like they had been crying. Alyssa, one of the more popular girls in my circle, who i was also very close to and had partied alot with, is the first to speak and somehow, i already knew what she was going to say. "Bobby, something happened to Chris and Alex". Chris and Alex Hubler. two brothers that i had grown up around and that were very very close to me, had moved away from College Park to Ormond beach 2 years earlier. their family saw what was going on as they were also black sheep, picked up and moved away to basically save their kids. however they continued to party up there, but with a different crowd. they were surfer kids and had started a band. i spent alot of weekends up there hanging with them and their new friends. they saw that i was deteriorating pretty bad and kept offering to move up to Ormond with them so i could get out of dodge for awhile. and several times i was very close to taking them up on their offer. they came into Orlando several times a year, and we would always hang when they did. they had been in town that Halloween, only a few months before. when they came to my house, i however, was shooting dope with Lindsay and just ignored them. unfortunately, that was the last time i would have seen them both, outside their caskets. Everyone seems to have that story about the friend they had as a kid that did something crazy that ended up getting them killed. they were my story like that. "they were in a wreck" as tears streamed down her face. her voice turned into a sob. "turn on the news" she says. i click the TV on and it was there. "2 dead another critical in fiery beach side horror crash" Chris and Alex were riding with their band mate, Adam Hyland (another cool dude i had hung with a few times) who had just got a brand new charger, were travling back from a skate park in Daytona, when he lost control of the car and slammed head-on into a tree along John Anderson Pkwy, at over 140 mph. Adam and Alex were killed instantly, and Chris was barley hanging onto life. i immediately jumped in the LS and hauled *** to Ormond Beach to halifax hospital. unfortunately, Chris passed away about ten minutes before i got there. Thier mother was in absolute hysterics, and thier father was still so shocked, he really couldn't even speak. he just hugged me, thanked me for coming, and broke down. after that, in total and complete shock, i left the hospital in a daze and i drove to the crash site. that road was a popular place it seemed for people to want that wanted to bury the needle. it was sparsely developed at the time and not many places for cops to hide. there was a very small hill where i myself, along with Chris, Alex, and Alyssa and done 130 MPH and caught a few inches of air in my LS400. when i got to the crash site, there was two short but deeply embedded skidmarks, broken glass, a few CDs, small pieces of metal, and a large oak tree with the bark ripped off of it, seared by fire. i stood there for a few mins and noticed something on the curb that must have been forgotten. the back of chris' Motorazor phone, and Alex's smashed Rolex. i ended up using the back panel of Chris phone on my own all the way up till my Motorazor got flooded in my car, and still have Alex's Rolex to this day, which i hung on my rearview mirror for ages. driving away from the crash site that night, back to orlando, i couldnt help to think how easily that could have been me in the car with them that night, as i was up there alot with them, and had it been me driving in my car with them, i wouldnt have wrecked as i REALLY knew my car and they would still be alive. they were very popular kids in both Ormond and Orlando and the funeral was absolutely huge. over 200 people showed up and it was an absolute flood of tears. not a dry eye in the room. it was so tragic that the crash made national news. today, now almost 15 years later, they are mostly forgotten. everyone grew up and went on with their lives, but there is not a day that goes by they dont cross my mind somehow.
01-23-19, 11:04 AM
#28
Lexus Test Driver
Thread Starter
After Lindsay, Chris and Alex died i fell into an even deeper state of depression. strung out on dope, shooting heroin to forget and snorting coke to stay awake, i felt useless, hopeless, and honestly had lost the will to live. id drive down to the park by lake Ivanhoe. sit there in my Ls400 with the barrel of my 357 magnum in my mouth, trying to find the courage to pull the trigger. i did this over and over night after night, but one night i had decided to stop being a ***** and to actually follow through. i wrote a long note to my friends, family, and other people that would be affected by my exit, taped it to the samsung plasma TV hanging on the wall, and drove down to the lake. i figured id give myself a slight chance of not blowing my brains out, and loaded only one bullet in the gun. this time, i spun the barrel, shaking gripping the handle as hard as i could, and pulled the trigger. *CLICK* i was starting to sweat profusely and my heart was racing. i started beating my head into the top of the steering wheel of the car. i went again, shaking even harder. *CLICK* nothing still. *CLICK CLICK* still hadn't caught the bullet. a million thoughts were running through my head. i started thinking about the anguish in Chris and Alex's parents faces as they watched their children die and what my parents would look like with those expressions. i started thinking about my sister who was also battling her own spell of depression. i thought just long enough for Alyssa to drive around the lake in her 328i and see my car parked along the curb. again not looking at anything but the big white gauges of my cluster panel, i shut my eyes, shake, and start to pull the trigger when BANG BANG BANG on the window, Alyssa screaming and at me, "BOBBY STOP PLEASE STOP JESUS WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I CANT LOOSE YOU TOO!!" i take the gun, and place it on the passenger seat. she opens the door and grabbed on to me. and i cried like a baby. she grabs the gun out of my hands, uncocks it and looks at the tumbler. the bullet was in the chamber. she took the gun and threw it out into the lake as far as she could, making a solid splash. had i squeezed the trigger just a little harder, that would have been the end. "look, dont tell anyone about this please Alyssa just please" "THE HELL I WONT!!" and whips out her phone. i snatched the phone out of her hands and threw it in the center console. she starts crying again. "just, talk to me" i say. "okay" says Alyssa. we ended up sitting in my car talking for several hours before i went home. i told her everything. the dope addiction, how i had been struggling with it, how depressed i was after loosing Lindsay and Chris & Alex. thier deaths rocked pretty much everyone i knew and everybody was still hurting. 2 days later, i caught a bad bag of dope, which i overdosed on and stopped breathing. my mom later told me that she was downstairs in the living room when suddenly a horrible feeling came over her that i was in danger. -never underestimate the power of a mothers intuition. she flew up the stairs and busted my door open, to find me slumped over with a needle sitting next to me. -my parents also didnt know i was shooting dope. when i blacked out and stopped breathing, i had what some call a "Negative NDE" a Near Death Experience but instead of a euphoric visit with long dead relatives, going into blackness. i fell, i fell into what seemed like a bottomless pit like i would fall forever. i was falling so fast the air rushing around my body was screaming and starting to burn. as i continued to fall, i saw a thousand pitch black hands reaching up to me . -i was en route to hell. suddenly, WHAM! everything went white for a split second while i continued to fall into the dark pit, WHAM WHAM BOOM! with doctors leaning over me and bright lights holding a defibrillator. "he's up" the emergency team backs up and a doctor comes over. "Mr. Beaumont",he said, you are lucky to be alive. we had to hit you 3 times with Narcan and shocked you several times. you flat lined for almost 45 seconds and i was about to pronounce you dead." i felt like a train had hit me as Narcan puts you immediately into withdraw, but i was alive and glad to be.
my folks wanted me to go to rehab and although i really didn't want to go, i agreed and spent 30 days in a medical detox unit up in Jacksonville. once i went through about 50 12 step meetings and was ready to leave, my case manager suggested i continued my "longterm recovery" at a sober living community. i refused and caught a cab back to Orlando. you would think after that, i would have been finished, but i wasnt. shortly after, i started making phone calls for Jim again and started making money. i dropped the needle but kept snorting blow. i started having fun again, but i was seriously burning the candle at both ends, and wasn't feeling so great. i was also hustling coke pills and X, to support my habit, but make a little cash on the side. with my folks constantly worried and everyone that wasnt one of my party friends dissapointed, even my good circle of friends that had been Chris & Alex crew along with Alyssa, began to back away. i was just too much of a mess for anyone with any real sense to want to have anything to do with. i made friends with some of the worst people in the area, the bad guys, REALLY bad guys, but i was still partying like hell and disregarding life completely. i began street racing, racing for pinks and went to the meets. at one point i was racing an acura legend, which spun out and clipped my rear quarter panel which put a nice dent in it. another night i was leaving a party when it was raided by the feds, i got out of there quick as i could, reversing too fast and smacking into a concrete mailbox, leaving a solid dent in the back. again, wreckless and completely out of control. one night, a friend brought a girl over. she went by "snowflake" and had hair down to her ***, dyed crimson red, and was very attractive. she ended up becoming a fixture at my house parties and pretty much everyone knew her but not very well. she seemed cool though and was a blast in bed for sure, however, sometimes things she said just didnt sound right. well one night i found out why. things really came to a head on the early morning hours of april 1st, 2006 when, me and her had spent the day at the beach. i was extremely drunk and she was extremely coked up, however i was in absolutely no position to drive at all so she got behind the wheel. we were almost back to my place when a cop got behind us. instead of her just acting normal in traffic, she panicked and pulled into a gas station till the cop drove by. with the cop still clearly in view, she pulls back on to the road. BAD MOVE. about a mile up the road the cop slows down, gets behind us, and lights us up. she pulls over, im flipping out calling her a stupid *****, shes crying freaking out. "driver turn off your engine" i hear over the speaker coming from the cruiser. Snowflake looks at me, with a wild look in her eye and says "ITS ALL YOUR FAULT ITS ALL YOUR DRUGS!!" had she just stayed cool and kept her mouth shut, we might possibly gotten away with it, but it was too late. the cop approaches us with his spotlight on, snowflake immediate breaks down crying, and blames me for everything. she also then discloses the cops that she was 16 years old. OH...MY...GOD.. i feel the life draining out of my body. here i was, almost 21 years old, with a 16 year old girl in the car, high on my coke, while i happen to be carrying an unregistered 9mm pistol, 80 xanax bars, and almost an 8 ball of blow in the glove box. i was absolutely screwed... before i could even speak, the officer says, "exit the vehicle and put your hands on the hood" a second cop comes up, slams me face down into the car as hard as he possibly could, and puts the cuffs on so tight my hands turned blue. i had absolutely NO IDEA she was 16! nobody did! heres this girl, covered in tattoos, smoking a pack of newports a day, fully developed. she looked like she was 25! i thought she was actually OLDER than me!! she was quickly whisked away by an officer, and i was thrown head first tied up like a pig into the back of the cruiser. as im sitting there, watching the cops pull all of the drugs, paraphernalia , and weapons out of the car, theres a song playing in the cruiser, one of those old sappy country songs. you know the type, the "my wife left me im loosing everything and my dog died" kind of songs. i was too pissed off at Snowflake and disgusted in myself to really think about anything else. i get to the jail, they process me, and throw me in a booking cell with about 40 other inmates. i made my phone call to my father, who was absolutely irate at me, told me i was on my own, and slammed the phone down. i spent the next 3 days in that horrendous booking cell, sitting next to the toilet having to smell and watch people take dumps all day until i was finally transferred to a different holding cell. later that day, by then wearing a blue county jail jumpsuit, the door opens, and the CO says, "Beaumont step forward" my friends found out what happened and got me out of there.
"1 count of carrying an illegal firearm"
"1 count of contributing to the delinquency of a minor'
"1 count of resisting arrest" -not sure what i did to deserve that one
"3 counts of possession of marijuana and paraphernalia"
"1 count of operating an unregistered vehicle with no insurence and suspended licence"
"2 counts of distribution"
"1 count of possession of cocaine over 2 grams with the intent to sell"
'6 counts of possesion of a pharmaceutical medication with the intent to sell"
-I was ****ed. hell, beyond ****ed! lucky me, my dad was very very wealthy, and although they had mostly turned their backs on me because i was the embarrassment of the family, but didn't want their friends at the country club knowing about what i had done, got me a local well known and very high profile attorney. after several months in court, i was sentenced to a year of felony probation and 1000 hours of community service, with adjudication withheld. i also had to spend some time in a rehab. during my first stint in rehab, my case manager suggested a sober community. i didn't go, but still had the pamphlet in the glove box of my car "palm gardens" it was called, located in Delray Beach, FL. my dad drove me down to the facility in his new 760Li, lecturing and shaming me the entire time on the ride down. i really didnt want to leave Orlando, but it wasn't a choice. little did i know, when i got there, i ended up falling in love with the area, stuck around, and got a job. my folks were so proud of me for getting my nose clean, they had my battered 90 Ls400 taken to the local dealership and spent a substantial amount of money to have it completely fixed up for me. i caught a bus to Orlando and picked up my car. i had never felt an early Ls400 drive that good, and haven't since. for the next several months, i would drive back and forth from delray beach to Orlando once a week for court hearings, community service and other things. 3 hour ride each direction, there and back in one day and it was a *****! but at least i had my car, my health, and i was living in well, paradise.
funny thing, about a year ago, i get a friend request on Facebook from someone named "rose" i knew her face but couldn't tell who it was really. when i clicked on the request she immediately wrote me. "Bobby, its snowflake! and i am so so sorry for the trouble i caused you. i went to jail that night too, and was locked up all the way till i turned 18" turned out she was a fugitive with several warrants already out on her at the time. lucky me, the cops had it out for her worse then me, and she insisted on absolutely nothing sexual ever happened between me and her. she defended me to the end because she knew she was in the wrong as much as i was. i had spent the last 12 years, hating her guts. now shes grown, has 2 kids and lives a normal life, and isnt the crazy brat she used to be. we have actually seen each other a few times since.
my folks wanted me to go to rehab and although i really didn't want to go, i agreed and spent 30 days in a medical detox unit up in Jacksonville. once i went through about 50 12 step meetings and was ready to leave, my case manager suggested i continued my "longterm recovery" at a sober living community. i refused and caught a cab back to Orlando. you would think after that, i would have been finished, but i wasnt. shortly after, i started making phone calls for Jim again and started making money. i dropped the needle but kept snorting blow. i started having fun again, but i was seriously burning the candle at both ends, and wasn't feeling so great. i was also hustling coke pills and X, to support my habit, but make a little cash on the side. with my folks constantly worried and everyone that wasnt one of my party friends dissapointed, even my good circle of friends that had been Chris & Alex crew along with Alyssa, began to back away. i was just too much of a mess for anyone with any real sense to want to have anything to do with. i made friends with some of the worst people in the area, the bad guys, REALLY bad guys, but i was still partying like hell and disregarding life completely. i began street racing, racing for pinks and went to the meets. at one point i was racing an acura legend, which spun out and clipped my rear quarter panel which put a nice dent in it. another night i was leaving a party when it was raided by the feds, i got out of there quick as i could, reversing too fast and smacking into a concrete mailbox, leaving a solid dent in the back. again, wreckless and completely out of control. one night, a friend brought a girl over. she went by "snowflake" and had hair down to her ***, dyed crimson red, and was very attractive. she ended up becoming a fixture at my house parties and pretty much everyone knew her but not very well. she seemed cool though and was a blast in bed for sure, however, sometimes things she said just didnt sound right. well one night i found out why. things really came to a head on the early morning hours of april 1st, 2006 when, me and her had spent the day at the beach. i was extremely drunk and she was extremely coked up, however i was in absolutely no position to drive at all so she got behind the wheel. we were almost back to my place when a cop got behind us. instead of her just acting normal in traffic, she panicked and pulled into a gas station till the cop drove by. with the cop still clearly in view, she pulls back on to the road. BAD MOVE. about a mile up the road the cop slows down, gets behind us, and lights us up. she pulls over, im flipping out calling her a stupid *****, shes crying freaking out. "driver turn off your engine" i hear over the speaker coming from the cruiser. Snowflake looks at me, with a wild look in her eye and says "ITS ALL YOUR FAULT ITS ALL YOUR DRUGS!!" had she just stayed cool and kept her mouth shut, we might possibly gotten away with it, but it was too late. the cop approaches us with his spotlight on, snowflake immediate breaks down crying, and blames me for everything. she also then discloses the cops that she was 16 years old. OH...MY...GOD.. i feel the life draining out of my body. here i was, almost 21 years old, with a 16 year old girl in the car, high on my coke, while i happen to be carrying an unregistered 9mm pistol, 80 xanax bars, and almost an 8 ball of blow in the glove box. i was absolutely screwed... before i could even speak, the officer says, "exit the vehicle and put your hands on the hood" a second cop comes up, slams me face down into the car as hard as he possibly could, and puts the cuffs on so tight my hands turned blue. i had absolutely NO IDEA she was 16! nobody did! heres this girl, covered in tattoos, smoking a pack of newports a day, fully developed. she looked like she was 25! i thought she was actually OLDER than me!! she was quickly whisked away by an officer, and i was thrown head first tied up like a pig into the back of the cruiser. as im sitting there, watching the cops pull all of the drugs, paraphernalia , and weapons out of the car, theres a song playing in the cruiser, one of those old sappy country songs. you know the type, the "my wife left me im loosing everything and my dog died" kind of songs. i was too pissed off at Snowflake and disgusted in myself to really think about anything else. i get to the jail, they process me, and throw me in a booking cell with about 40 other inmates. i made my phone call to my father, who was absolutely irate at me, told me i was on my own, and slammed the phone down. i spent the next 3 days in that horrendous booking cell, sitting next to the toilet having to smell and watch people take dumps all day until i was finally transferred to a different holding cell. later that day, by then wearing a blue county jail jumpsuit, the door opens, and the CO says, "Beaumont step forward" my friends found out what happened and got me out of there.
"1 count of carrying an illegal firearm"
"1 count of contributing to the delinquency of a minor'
"1 count of resisting arrest" -not sure what i did to deserve that one
"3 counts of possession of marijuana and paraphernalia"
"1 count of operating an unregistered vehicle with no insurence and suspended licence"
"2 counts of distribution"
"1 count of possession of cocaine over 2 grams with the intent to sell"
'6 counts of possesion of a pharmaceutical medication with the intent to sell"
-I was ****ed. hell, beyond ****ed! lucky me, my dad was very very wealthy, and although they had mostly turned their backs on me because i was the embarrassment of the family, but didn't want their friends at the country club knowing about what i had done, got me a local well known and very high profile attorney. after several months in court, i was sentenced to a year of felony probation and 1000 hours of community service, with adjudication withheld. i also had to spend some time in a rehab. during my first stint in rehab, my case manager suggested a sober community. i didn't go, but still had the pamphlet in the glove box of my car "palm gardens" it was called, located in Delray Beach, FL. my dad drove me down to the facility in his new 760Li, lecturing and shaming me the entire time on the ride down. i really didnt want to leave Orlando, but it wasn't a choice. little did i know, when i got there, i ended up falling in love with the area, stuck around, and got a job. my folks were so proud of me for getting my nose clean, they had my battered 90 Ls400 taken to the local dealership and spent a substantial amount of money to have it completely fixed up for me. i caught a bus to Orlando and picked up my car. i had never felt an early Ls400 drive that good, and haven't since. for the next several months, i would drive back and forth from delray beach to Orlando once a week for court hearings, community service and other things. 3 hour ride each direction, there and back in one day and it was a *****! but at least i had my car, my health, and i was living in well, paradise.
funny thing, about a year ago, i get a friend request on Facebook from someone named "rose" i knew her face but couldn't tell who it was really. when i clicked on the request she immediately wrote me. "Bobby, its snowflake! and i am so so sorry for the trouble i caused you. i went to jail that night too, and was locked up all the way till i turned 18" turned out she was a fugitive with several warrants already out on her at the time. lucky me, the cops had it out for her worse then me, and she insisted on absolutely nothing sexual ever happened between me and her. she defended me to the end because she knew she was in the wrong as much as i was. i had spent the last 12 years, hating her guts. now shes grown, has 2 kids and lives a normal life, and isnt the crazy brat she used to be. we have actually seen each other a few times since.
01-23-19, 12:26 PM
#29
Lexus Test Driver
Thread Starter
Back at the farm, the days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into a month. by the end of May i had spent enough time in the sugarcane fields, picking fruit, and eating big breakfasts that i was starting to really get fit. i went from a pretty scrawny guy into something totally different. each week on Friday, the routine was the same, we would stand in line, take our $50, go up to the store with Larry for our beer and smokes and id talk to Jen, the chubby but cute cashier briefly. i got closer to the guys and Tito became my best friend. the language barrier was pretty rough at first but with Titos help, and being around everyone speaking Spanish i was beginning to speak it in small increments and basic answers, questions, commands, and expletives. i learned how to curse in Mexican, and most of the guys thought it was pretty damn funny when me, this white boy who couldn't roll his tongue and speak proper Espanol. they considered me one of them, and soon i was teaching them things they really didn't know about, some of our words, slang, culture, etc. most of these guys turns out hadn't been in the states very long and really hadn't spent much time in cities and were mostly just in places like this. Larry & Tee took notice of this and realized i was able to get these guys motivated and steer them in the right direction with what they were supposed to do. the farm quickly became my life, sucking me in like a vacuum and it almost didn't seem like the rest of the world even existed. one day i asked Larry if i could get a ride into town to get an estimate of the parts i would need to get my car fixed. he agreed and we drove to Belle Glade to a pick-n-pull junkyard, which surprisingly actually had (most) of the parts i needed. they had a wrecked 91 that had been severely T-boned but had everything i needed. $50 for the radiator, $2 for hoses, $10 for a rear tire. what i had failed to think about was the twisted studs that wouldn't let go of the back rim. "Boy, you dun quite well at our here farm, and i been speaking to bossman. how'd you like to start doing other types of work fo us, stead of just out there pikin cane wit dem wetbacks" hmm.. this was somewhat interesting. apparently, i had started to gain their trust possibly. "sure Larry, id be interested for sure" "okay boy, when we get back to the farm, dont head out to the field. ill drop you off by your car so you can get to wrenching a bit, and ill go have some words with the clan now ya here?" i reached for my pack of smokes. "damn. only two left and i dont get paid for a week!" "Boy, ill run ya by the stoe right quick and u can grab sum." he reaches in his pocked for a dirty $10 "u can thank me later boy" "ya know, me and you are kinda alike" -no. not at all. he was a filthy racist old fat bumpkin and i wasn't. he went on to tell me how he ended up on the farm. at 63 years old, he was getting tired. tired of working, tired of running, tired of living. Larry had a pretty rough up bringing. he grew up in a shack falling off a hill in rural west Virginia. he was in and out of jail most of his life and really didnt have much of an education. when he was 24, he got into a fight in a bar over a poker game and shot a man in the head. it was murder but got a manslaughter charge and spent 15 years in prison. when he got out he was 40 years old with absolutely nothing. with nothing going for him, he picked up and decided to jump on a train to Florida, which he thought would be paradise and heard many things about how great life could be here. he managed to find himself a low wage job as a short order cook and lived in a rundown trailer in Lake Worth, actually not very far from where i had lived previously several years before. well one day, he lost his job at the diner he was at, his rent was due and he was panicking. not knowing what to do, he decided as a last resort to rob a liquor store in West palm beach. unfortunately, it didnt go as planned for him as the cashier had a double barrel shotgun waiting for him and knew how to use it. needless to say, he was arrested and spent the next several months in the Palm Beach County jail on gun club road when his sentence was handed down to him. 10 years in prison 10-20-Life. use a gun in a robbery? automatic mandatory 10 years. fire a gun? 20. shoot someone? youll spend the rest of your life in a cage... after several years of decent behavior in Glades Correctional, he began to gain trust with the guards and got sent to a prison work farm near Clewiston. one day, he saw his chance, and escaped. "i dunno why i ran and i regret it nah cuz i woulda been long done with that stay by now" he said. but after spending so much time behind bars, he couldnt take it anymore. when the guard had his back to him as he was about to climb back onto the bus after picking trash off off US27, he overpowered the guard, grabbed his gun and shot him in the head. the other guards immediately went after him returning fire, yet somehow by sheer luck, Larry slipped back into the bog of the glades. he spent the next several weeks on the run. there was a massive manhunt for him but he never got caught. he ran, hid, and was damn good at it. several months after, he found himself walking on a deserted stretch of road in the middle of summer, with heat rays lowing off the pavement and no water, he collapsed. when he woke up, he was on a cot at the farm, Bossman Brazwell sitting there with a gun. Bossman knew who he was and what he had done, but he took him in anyway. 25 years later, Larry was still at the farm.
01-23-19, 03:54 PM
#30
Lexus Test Driver
Thread Starter
we pull into the store. larry parks and i run in to grab a pack of smokes. theres Jen, looking down at something giggling and looks up. "Hi rob, the usual?" "of course" i say. she sets when she was playing with down on the counter. "ever seen one of these?" she says to me. "its an iPhone! its a phone but you can go on the internet and stuff with it!, as she proudly holds it up for me to see, however, when she did, it was a picture of herself standing infront of a bathroom mirror with no top on! "Oh.. Damn girl!" she looks mortified and quickly looks at what was actually on the screen. "um..he..hehehe.. oops that wasnt supposed to happen" she says. "well, you look fine as hell either way and you got some real nice **** jen" she quickly hands me my smokes and my change. "haha bye Jen" "bye rob".. she says. heh i thought to myself. sure as hell takes better pics then my damn Razor did. at this point i was kinda starting to get more interested in her. even more so since she *accidentally* showed me a nude. yeh, no accident there i thought. haha. i get out to the truck. "Cmon boy we gotta get on back for it too late". we get half way to the farm on Connors Hwy when we see a dis shoveled looking guy wearing all black walking up the road. "find out what his deal is boy" larry says. the guy walks up to the truck. he was winded as hell super sweaty and looked like he had been running from something. "I need a ride!! can you guys gimme a lift??" just then we here sirens in the distance, and alot of them" "LOOK MAN YOU GOTTA HELP ME PLEASE" "quick get in the truck! HURRY! larry says. the guy jumps in the back of the truck and says "Im steve" larry quickly pulls the truck into a small crevice in the woods, out of sight of the cops. "Boy, what in the sam hill ****ery you runnin from?" he says to steve. "i got pulled over, i punched a cop and ran. ive been running for hours" steve says. i look at larry and he nods his head. "Well steve, you need work?" i say. "Jesus Christ for the love of god yes just dont let em get me" Steve was a thin guy, scrawny and fairly pale that was jittery and talked about 1,000 miles per second. a native of west palm, he didnt have any accent like myself, and was pretty urbanized. he identified as a "juggalo" which i was familiar with, as an ex girlfriend of mine was one, and i had a circle of Juggalo friends back home in orlando. "punched a cop and they know your name and face. sounds to me like you in a heap of trouble son!" Larry says. "look man ill do whatever. just help me out please!" clearly, the guy was desperate as hell. "watch yer head"Larry says, as we pass under the palm tree. the truck stops in front of the pavilion. the workers were done for the day and everyone was out by the pond doing something. "boy, grab yer parts and go wrench on yer car got it?" "yeah" i grab the radiator, tire with rim. radiator under my arm while i rolled the tire with the other. "Son, you come with me" Larry pulls out a pistol and points it at steves head. "you make one funny move, imma shootcha ***" DONT TURN ME IN!!" steve pleads. "who dun said nothin about that son?' Larry dissapears into the grove with Steve. as i brought the parts to the car, i hear all kinds of commotion at the pond and Oreo comes bolting up to the car faster than id ever seen him run in his life, and jump on the roof. i lean the tire against the car and put the radiator on top of it, and walked down to the pond. "HOLLYWOOD HOLLYWOOD AMIGO COME QUICK WE EAT GOOD TONIGHT!!" apparently, Oreo went down to the pond for a drink of water, when he caught the attention of a large and hungry gator. there, on the bank of the pond, 20 guys had the damn thing cornered. -they were trying to catch it and eat it. "un gato un gato!!!" "corrió desde el cocodrilo" some of them said. "gato you hollywood?" "Si" i said. "we love gato!" they say. i swear these guys were absolutley fearless. i really dont know anyone crazy enough to corner a huge gator and attack it. not a single person, not even a group of people, yet this group of illegal mexican farm workers, were litreally charging at it, and throwing rocks at it trying to get it out of the lake. "HOLLYWOOD HELP AMIGO!!" tito says. Grab gato we use as bait! VETE A LA MIERDA!! i say! (**** you in spanish) "gato mine, ive had him for years." "bien bien" tito says. i had to do something obviously before one of these guys got killed or hurt real real bad. "be right back!' i say. i ran into the dorm to my bunk and grabbed my key, i ran out to my car, flat tires with no radiator but enough juice to start and run for a few minutes before it overheated. i started it up, threw it in drive stood on the gas and whipped it around. thats right, i was about to kill a Gator for a group of people to eat, with my Lexus Ls400. i honked the horn "Cuidado Cuidado" i yell, and drive directly at the gator.
*BOOM!
apparently, a gator is basically made of living concrete. picture driving the biggest nastiest parking spacer x10. the gator hissed and thrashed back and forth, as my Ls400 slowly crushed it. then all the guys come after it again, kicking it in the nose and stabbong its eyes out. "WAY TO GO HOLLYWOOD!!" tito says, as him and two other guys saw the gators head off with a few of the cane machetes . jesus my poor car. first the brakedown, now the gator. i started the car back up and rolled it back into the spot in the weeds next to the other cars, smoking and bogging down, and shut it off. "well pickles, oreo" i say to my critters, "hell of a night". by the time i got the car parked and walked back to the pond, the guys already had a fire going, and it made enough of a ruckus that Larry Paul and Tee all came down to see what was going on. "YEEE HAW LOOK AT THAT THERE THING THERE BOYS!!" Larry says. the group quickly cuts up the gator, cooked it, and yeah, gator is really really good eatin!!! no wonder they were after that thing so bad.
*BOOM!
apparently, a gator is basically made of living concrete. picture driving the biggest nastiest parking spacer x10. the gator hissed and thrashed back and forth, as my Ls400 slowly crushed it. then all the guys come after it again, kicking it in the nose and stabbong its eyes out. "WAY TO GO HOLLYWOOD!!" tito says, as him and two other guys saw the gators head off with a few of the cane machetes . jesus my poor car. first the brakedown, now the gator. i started the car back up and rolled it back into the spot in the weeds next to the other cars, smoking and bogging down, and shut it off. "well pickles, oreo" i say to my critters, "hell of a night". by the time i got the car parked and walked back to the pond, the guys already had a fire going, and it made enough of a ruckus that Larry Paul and Tee all came down to see what was going on. "YEEE HAW LOOK AT THAT THERE THING THERE BOYS!!" Larry says. the group quickly cuts up the gator, cooked it, and yeah, gator is really really good eatin!!! no wonder they were after that thing so bad.