Take a Hostage

I was laying there on the metal table, with my ass hanging out of the hospital gown, shivering and in pain. I'd never had any pain like this before. It was pain that I cannot adequately describe to you. Words cannot define it. You have to experience it for yourself to get the full impact of it.

I was 21 years old. I had been enduring this pain for most of the evening, and well into the wee hours of the morning.

The pain began as I was working the grill at a family-type upscale burger shack. In short order I was lying on the break room floor, moaning and clutching my guts. Someone was in there, and they wanted out. When a server came into the break room for her 15 minutes, I asked her to tell the manager to call me an ambulance. She returned shortly with a message.

Get your butt back on the line, or you're fired.

Sonofabitch.

I hauled myself to the back door on my hands and knees, hit the crash bar, and crawled to my car.

I could see the twin towers of the medical center just a few blocks away. "You can do this." I said to myself, and pulled myself to my feet with the door handle. That's when I blew chunks.

Cleaning my mouth up on my uniform, I got myself into the car and found the ignition. I lit a cigarette, and groaned as I started that big block up, and revved the motor to warm it up quicker.

I was leaned over to one side as I drove toward the hospital, and into the entrance that said AMBULANCE ONLY.

When I pulled up to the automatic door, I toed the high beam switch on the floor and everyone inside looked right at me.

I opened the door and fell out on the ground.

When I came to it was clear that little time had passed. I was on a gurney being rolled down a hallway, and someone was asking me if I could tell them my name.

I couldn't. I tried to enunciate this, but it came out as a groan I think.

Six hours and a whole bunch of tests, and even more prodding and poking doctors later, I learned that the problem was I had been busy making rocks, while I was frying burgers. I had a whole pile of little stones that wanted to exit my kidneys, and had gotten stuck. On both sides!

Relief was promised. The pain medication that was being withheld until the compassionate quacks could determine what was wrong, and of course that I wasn't a junkie with a serious jones, was supposedly on the way.

Looking at the clock, that had been an hour ago, and then some.

Fucking bastards.

So there I lay, with my ass getting colder, and the pain getting more intense, until I just couldn't take it anymore.

That's when the little geek in the lab coat walked by my room.

Hey dude! It seemed to come out as a groan from the depths of hell, at least to my ears, but it got his attention.

"Yes?" the skinny, small man said, leaning backwards to stick his head in the door.

"Come here dude, I need some help." I managed to motion with the hand I wasn't holding my guts together with.

"What is it?" the man asked, as he crossed the room towards me.

"Come here, I can barely talk." I whispered in a raspy voice filled with as much pain as I could put into it. I had plenty to spare.

He leaned down, and his tie dangled forward out of his lab coat. He was looking quizzically into my eyes. His were absolutely devoid of concern, and in fact he seemed rather annoyed with me.

He was about to get really upset.

With speed and strength I didn't know I had left, I grabbed his tie, and choked up on it right to the knot, wrapping it around my fist three times.

I WANT A FUCKING SHOT! WHEN THEY KNOCK ME OUT, I'LL LET YOU GO! SO START SCREAMING OR I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU TO DEATH! LET'S SCREAM TOGETHER! AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!! The lab rat screamed with me. He jerked his head sideways, trying to make his face a lousy target for my other fist as I pulled myself up and him down, trying to rise off of the metal table.

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!! we screamed together.

By the third scream the room was beginning to fill up with people. We screamed one more time just for good measure.

The lights went out.

When I woke up I was on the 7th floor of the hospital. I know this because it was painted on the wall, over the elevator, and that was all I could see. It seemed I had been restrained, sedated, and couldn't move very much. This was fine with me. Looking down I could see I was stopped at a nurse's station, and that an orderly was handing a nurse a folder.

"This guy is to be kept sedated. He took a hostage down in the ER." the orderly said.

"Mmmm. A real sweetheart huh?" the smartass nurse quipped back at him.

I dozed off again, feeling no pain.

Over the next 5 days I discovered that the maximum dose of morphine for your pain is vastly different from the maximum dose of morphine you are given if they believe that you might cause them pain.

Next time you're hurting so bad you can't stand it, all you have to do is take a hostage.

At least, that's what you do when you're incorrigible.

Wise man's bluff

I was eyeballing the small town cop in my rear-view mirror as he slowly got out of his cruiser and approached the back of my custom van with the gold running boards, mag wheels, and tinted oversize windows. The 302 was purring like a tiger cub on a teat.

"SHUT IT OFF!!!" the grizzled old radar trapper yelled at me.

And so I did with a grin, shaking my head. I had just successfully came to a complete stop and looked both ways before continuing on at 10mph for the 12th block in a row with him right on my bumper.

And he pulled me over anyway.

That's what I get for asking a cop for directions.

Was he eyeballing me over the top of those $1.99 aviator's glasses, or studying the ground for his lost clue?

Removing my M-frame Oakleys I realized I had seen this piece of work before. Hmmmm. Where do I know this cat from?

I'd only been to this town twice, and the first time a buddy was driving in the front seat while in the backseat a girl was showing me her prowess at the game of hide the sausage.

The second time....oooh shit. That's the guy I held the door for at the stop n rob last week up here. The one who was standing behind me while I was complaining about their lack of choice in rolling papers.

Shit.

I got a little bit of that bomb-diggety in my pocket. Easy now. Everything's gonna work out. Don't get jumpy.

"Why don't you step on down out of that van now?" Did he actually pull my door open? Whoa!

Can they do that? Either way, he just did.

Now I'm standing there looking down about seven inches on this little guy in a very uncomfortable-looking uniform with a big grin on his face.

You'd think he just ate a canary.

"Wanna tell me what you doin over here on this side of town hippie?" He actually leaned forward as he posed his question. The more to try to intimidate me I suppose.

Hippie? Oh no! I'm in a time warp. This cat still thinks there's hippies around. I guess with my big goatee and french braid down to my ass, driving that van, I must look like a hippie to him.

Refugee from a Rob Zombie video was the look I was going for at the time.

Well, like I told ya when I pulled you over a few minutes ago officer, I have this rental list, and I'm looking for this address so I can see the house that is available. I hadn't been paying attention to what he looked like when I passed him on the street, and asked him to help me with an address.

He was the least helpful cop I've ever approached for help with anything, and that's saying something.

"White folks don't live down here on this side of town son." It was a command rather than a statement.

They don't? Is that legal officer? I mean, to tell me I can't live somewhere because I'm the wrong color...

He smiled even more broadly and exclaimed "This is a high-crime drug area."

Ah. Well that just explains everything now doesn't it?

Obviously this guy thinks he is just the man who is going to tell me how things are, and how they are going to be. What's the best way to play this....hmmmm. Obviously he thinks I'm a moron, so lets play along. Okay, I'm stupid.

Seeing that I'm thinking this over, he pushes on.

"Have you got a criminal record?"

No.

"I need to see your driver's license."

Wow. We're 5 minutes into this, and now he wants to see my license? Something smells bad, I'm thinking. He didn't ask for my insurance. I'll think maybe I'll just get it for him. I pull out my license, and hand it to him with two fingers. As he takes it and looks at the information, I turn to go get the insurance out of the van.

"Hey where do you think you're going?" He puts his hand on his revolver. Wow. This guy has got some serious issues, I'm thinking.

To get my insurance card. You need that too don't you? I know I'm really pushing my luck here. Like dancing with a rattlesnake. Fascinating.

"Your license was first issued only a year ago, but you're 27. Why is that?" My interrogator demands.

I moved here from out of state I tell him. Duh. What is this guy's problem?

"And you have no record anywhere?"

No sir.

"Well we will just see what we can't do about that!" he exclaims. Is that glee? OMG this guy is having a good time here. This ain't cool at all. Did he just offer to get me a criminal record? Man this guy might be trouble.

"Where do you work?"

I'm in between jobs right now.

"How do you support yourself?"

My wife works.

"What does she do?"

She works in a nightclub.

"The strip place up on the highway?"

Yep.

"And you ain't got no record?"

Nope. Third times a charm. Why is this so hard to believe?

"And you only been in Georgia for a year?"

Yep.

"Is there anything I should know about in that van before I go through it?"

Yeah, there is, officer. There is a Glock model 21 .45 full of hollowpoints under the driver's seat. And in a little card holder over the visor you'll find my permit to carry it.

"I'll just bet that was issued the same time your license was too, hunh?"

What the heck is up this guy's ass? I'm thinking. Slowly it begins to dawn on me what's up. If you're incorrigible enough, this could be worth a chuckle, I start to believe.

Could this be my angle? Is opportunity knocking at the door?

Will our hero yet again escape the clutches of the vile and dastardly po-lice?

Well yeah, I got my permit the first week I lived here, just like my license. It's the law ya know, that you have to change your license within so many days of moving.

You could have cut the insolence with a knife.

The smile vanished from his face. The guy became very grave and serious all of a sudden, he leaned into me in that annoying way he has once again and said in a low voice...

"Mister, just who are you working for anyway?"

The hook was set, the fish on the line, and with net in hand I said to him:

Officer, even if I was working for some other law enforcement agency, the last thing in the world I'd be able to do is discuss it with you, and you ought to know that. Don't ask me any questions that could land us both in trouble. And I thrust my jaw out at him and put my hands on my hips and stared him down.

He left in such a hurry, he forgot all about searching my van, and had to walk back to me from his car to return my driver's license, which he fished out of his front pocket where he had put it.

I think I made him wet his pants.

Months later I was getting ready to leave that small town. I had found decent work in a bigger city. I saw a friend's son walking down the street and offered the kid a ride.

"Hey man, do you mind if I stop at my buddy's house and get a bag? I'll burn one with ya." my friend's kid said to me.

No problem I said, where do you want to go?

Oh, he stays out by where the cops keep their meth lab. You know where that is don'tcha?

After he said that I decided it would be unwise to waste any time moving out of town. Skitzer cops. Thats what the world needs!

It sure does sound good

The road was going to be a frontage road for a freeway. The freeway to nowhere. Part of an interstate project, this thing had been under construction for over 20 years.

It was a 3 lane one-way drag strip 12 miles long, flat as a pancake, and brand new, with another one just like it an eight of a mile to the South. That's what it was.

In the stretch where there were stoplights, they were spaced every half-mile, and timed to pass through-traffic at 45 miles per hour.

Or 90.

Everyone with a car they even thought was fast tore this stretch of new road up on a regular basis.

I regarded it as my own personal playground.

I had just finished a high-speed run with a buddy in my shiny red '79 Z28.

We were jamming to some tunes and toking on a number, grinning from ear to ear when we rolled up to that stoplight with a few cars ahead of us in traffic.

I savored a stout hit, and passed it over to my bro.

"Dude. squash that shit." He said to me. "See that brown car two cars up on the right? That's a cop."

Okay motherfucker, pass it low, smoke it like a cigarette. Shut up and quit yer bitchin. He's on his way to get a donut. Damn man, you're so fuckin lame. I thought to myself.

"That ain't no cop." I said, yanking his chain just a little.

My bro was always tweaking out about silly shit. I swear he needed something stronger than some green.

"Dude that is a cop! Put that out!"

Puff puff. A cloud rolls out my window.

"That's a chick bro. See her hair? Brunette too. Hey mama, wanna party?" I said, but not so loudly it could be heard two cars up.

"Dude that is a cop and you are so going to get me fucked up I'm gonna kick your ass." My very good friend suddenly wanted to kill me it seemed.

I grinned at him.

The light changed. Everyone grannied their way off the light.

Within a few hundred yards I saw my shot on the left and took it. I blew past the stack of cars with the cammed-up 350 screaming through the glaspacks and 4" megaphones right in sexy mama's ear as I passed the unmarked car doing 80 or 90.

The speedo had just topped 100 when she slid in behind me with the little blue lights under the grille just a winkin at me.

I dropped it down to the limit and signaled a right lane change.

There was a grocery store ahead on the right.

I stubbed my roach out in the ashtray, and palmed it.

My bro was now officially trippin balls.

I'm thinkin he's gonna lose it and start swinging on me or some shit. Then I'm gonna have to kick his ass while driving this car with a cop behind me. I swear you couldn't have driven a thumbtack up his ass with a jackhammer.

"Don't shit your pants man. We're cool." I told him as I pulled into the parking spot with the unmarked car behind me.

I handed him the roach. "Hold this bro, it won't take but a second."

Climbing out of the Camaro, I turned to face a brunette lady cop a few years older than me with a pistol and a badge on her belt.

"It sure does sound good." she said.

"Well it just cost me $20, so I am glad you think so!" I told her.

"How did it just cost you $20?"

"Because my buddy said you were a cop, and I told him you were too cute to be a cop. He said he knew you were and I said well I'll bet ya $20 she ain't, and I know just how to find out. So he won. How fast was I goin anyway?"

"I don't know." She said. "I only got up to 55 before you shut it down. How fast were you going?" She arched a devastatingly sexy eyebrow at me.

"I'll have to take the fifth on that." I said. "I got bigger problems anyway. I just bought this thing and haven't even switched the title, tag, or insurance yet, and I left my wallet and my license on my bedside table."

"You wanna go with me while I get it or do you get to handcuff me right here and now?"

She smiled. "I don't write tickets." she said. "I bust druggies."

"Fascinating!" I said. "Tell me about it over dinner, or in the morning?"

"You have a nice day, and slow down before you wind up in trouble." She said to me, getting back into her car.

"But you're the kind of trouble I'm trying to get into!" I yelled!

She had a huge grin on her face as she drove right out of my life forever.

I went back and sat down in the Camaro.

"Well?" My incredulous buddy demanded.

"Well what? She turned me down cold. Where's that joint?"

"I ate it." He replied.

"You sonofabitch!" That really upset me. "You owe me a joint now. And a hamburger!"

This day just wasn't going the way I was hoping it would.

Old Buzzard

The turkey buzzard sat high in the crown of the tallest pine tree.

I watched him through the rising mist. I studied him for a long time sitting up there with the fading sun shining on him above the forested lake.

He was a magnificent bird, really. He was an old man. His head and neck were completely devoid of plumage. His leathery skin shone in the sunlight.

Though the distance was great I imagined that I could see his yellowish, beady eyes staring straight into my heart, reading my intentions.

I took a deep breath, and slowly let it all the way out, pushing my diaphragm up with my belly muscles, then gulped down another deep, slow inhalation.

Imperceptably I began to let it out as the old vulture spread his wings a little, pumped his neck, and settled deeper into his perch.

He was a good 300 yards away, and 150 feet up, in fading light.

Tricky.

Gently I stopped breathing.

I had been steadily tensing the muscles in my right hand, squeezing more and more firmly with my finger.

The rifle bucked suddenly against my shoulder.

The large bird folded his head up beneath his wing, as if to go to sleep.

I followed him through the scope as he fell, striking several branches along the way.

I lowered the weapon, cleared it, and put it on safe.

The old buzzard tried to shake his head, but couldn't for the neck brace. He took another sip from his bottle of Crown.

"You just lost another $100 boss." I said.

"You're a bastard." he replied.