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Not to be spun around too fast

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#1 Atehequa


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Posted 10 March 2015 - 11:30 PM

All those years that have passed on by
Oh how the strange times are ever changing
Seemingly surviving them all by staying high
Existing in my state of lower evolution
Around me swirls a cultural revolution
Perpetual change as life spins much too fast
Those I've left behind, never saying farewell
Rather clear, memories of them still last

It seems as if it was almost yesterday
Those experiences which occurred decades ago
Before making the beds on which we would lay
A few winters past that summer of love
Lower your voices when standing above
In their infancy today's monsters, yet to be feared
Yesterday's sweet wine now turns to bitter poison
Milhous hated Winston's hair and beard

Rock-n-Roll music atop it's artistic peak
It seems whatever goes up most always will descend
Those subtle changes day by day and week to week
Imagination, hands, art and free thought
All of which should not be sold or bought
I guess a good many people were too high to care
Or else seduced then sedated and gently prodded
Unknown risks which no one will dare

Junkies, no matter if either rich or poor
The poison fruits of fame and feeling much too good
Cocaine opened windows and then locked the door
Speed balls hitting them between their eyes
Injected into it's stem and the blossom dies
A skag junkie's last seconds of life are never painful
While silly potheads usually push on to a ripe old age
Though at times they tend to be forgetful

Trying not to forget what I intend to write
The wild cascades of thoughts flowing out of my head
The times grow stranger and I'm not wrapped too tight
Yet still able to traverse a wild country mile
Perched on a ridge and entranced for awhile
Concerns regarding an uncertain future and losing my past
Feeling different, but reluctant to accept what is offered
Perpetual change will not spin me too fast

There is somewhere else I would rather be
Kissing Stephanie Tilson in the laurel by Lynnhaven Lake
Or smoking grass with my good friends way back in 1973
These modern times can perplex an old soul
Ever aware of what can pull me down in a hole
Having climbed out of far too many in my life and times
The earth was always much too full to swallow me up
Allowing adventure and a few more rhymes

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#2 bewitchingredhead


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Posted 11 March 2015 - 06:36 AM

Thank you for sharing. :) I like reading others' writings.
If it's not too personal of a question, may I ask if this is poem is one inspired by your life's personal experiences, someone else, or just random?

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I see you're getting your degree in art of the obvious~myself
Without music life would be a mistake~ Friedrich Nietzsche
Immorality: The morality of those who are having a better time~ H.L. Mencken
When nature has work to be done, she creates a genius to do it~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
We cannot teach people anything; we can only help them discover it within themselves~ Galileo

#3 Lilitia


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Posted 11 March 2015 - 11:58 AM

Quite lovely.

I am feeling in a similar mood myself, having reunited with my first love and being unable to break the invisible barriers of time that has passed and shite relationships, or shake the memories of what we had (either of us, otherwise we wouldn't still be seeing one another every couple days).

Thanks for reminding me that all roads are long, and no matter what you just have to keep walking. I needed that.

I always enjoy your poetry :)

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My mama used to tell me 'bout these
Broke, poachin' ass bitches in these streets,
So many people wanna see me fall,
Invite me to the table but don't want me to eat at all.... ---- Z'Ro the Crooked

#4 Atehequa


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Posted 20 March 2015 - 10:41 PM

Thank you for sharing. :smile: I like reading others' writings.
If it's not too personal of a question, may I ask if this is poem is one inspired by your life's personal experiences, someone else, or just random?


Perhaps all of the above.

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#5 Atehequa


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Posted 20 March 2015 - 10:43 PM

1 - Barbarians inside the gate

"We could of been down in Nags Head by now checking out the chicks." Mack dryly stated as he finished rolling up a joint. Looking over the tops of his gold rimmed glasses, he passed it to me and added: "But no, you had to choose Billy's burg instead. Just what the fuck are we going to do up here until Sunday?" Lighting the doobie, I toked it hard and passed it back to Mack. "We went down to Nags Head last time this shit happened. This was my turn to choose and besides, it's April. There's not that many chicks down on the Outer Banks right now, so we're going to have ourselves a colonial experience this weekend. Dig?

Rising to a height of 5'8" in platform boots which added another four inches, Mack shuffled over to the full size mirror and fluffed up his shoulder length, spiked on the top brown hair. I had thought of ribbing him about his new sense of fashion which included the flared green corduroy pants, and wide collared, baggy sleeved saffron hued silk shirt and mod-like hairstyle, but decided not to as the little fucker could cop an attitude rather quickly. All through junior high school we had gotten into no less than a half dozen fist fights, but got along much better in high school. Eighteen years of age like me, Mack was currently my business partner and although since twelve grade we hardly hung out with each other, the two of us were bivouacking together here at the Lord Paget Motor Lodge in Williamsburg. Common sense and practicality had us slipping out of our neighborhood this spring weekend.

Last weekend an extremely fucked up kid from our high school got caught smoking a joint in the mall's restroom. Arrested, this idiot confessed to be under the influence of LSD. Once downtown at juvenile detention with narcotics detectives and parents present, he proceeded to snitch out a several dope dealers in and around our stomping grounds. Word had gotten around that there was going to be some kind of big drug sweep. Being extremely cautious as well as having a very select clientele, neither Mack or I were named, but we just didn't want to be hassled by vehicle stops, shakedowns and all else associated with the local fuzz aggressively being on high alert.

Having reveled in Williamsburg a few times with our other partner Lee, I knew it to be somewhat of a party town. Of a somewhat different culture than our stomping grounds, or the beach scene down on the Outer Banks, Williamsburg offered possibilities to fellows like us. Both of us possessed fake drivers licenses which boosted my age to twenty four and Mack's to twenty two. On mine, my name was Ellery Mallory and if Mack had to flash his, he would be Richard Dickerson. They cost us a handsome sum, but would prove useful when buying liquor in bars or checking into motels under assumed names. Although we were old enough to buy and drink beer, Virginia law forbade us from consuming strong spirits, but with fake identification, we had no worries and this weekend would enjoy the fruits of our labor.

No it wasn't a suite at Nags Head with a balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, but our accommodations were rather cozy. The room offered a rather scenic view of a large pond and forest beyond which seemed to have a calming effect upon us two wild Lynnhaven fellows. There was an overall serenity about the whole Williamsburg area. Those few we met thus far seemed much more courteous and socially geared than most of the lower peninsula. When registering our stay here at the Lord Paget, the desk clerk was all smiles and unlike motels down in Hampton or Newport News, we were not subject to be read a riot act regarding partying, cigarette burns or extra guests showing up. Off season in a tourist town, establishments that remained open were quite cordial to whatever business they could get. Aside from us, there were probably only three other rooms taken thus less chance of our presence disturbing anyone. Mack had a pretty good head on his shoulders and together we should have no problems here in this strange town.

Having an ice chest loaded with beer, a half gallon of rum, another of vodka and bottle of mescal on the low motel dresser there was enough alcohol for ourselves along with any guests we may see fit to entertain. As far as other party favors, between us we had two ounces of some rather potent Panamanian weed and almost a pill bottle full of Darvon pain killers. A low opiate dosage along with the liquor and weed made for a rather pleasurable sense of being. A mutual friend had the kind of doctor who would write him a prescription for about anything he wanted. Needless to say trading often occurred. As the 1970s continued so did the dope use in spite of Nixon's war on a counter culture that seemingly had went mainstream with the nation's youth. No less than three quarters of the students in our high school used some type of drug be it pot, cocaine, heroin, hallucinogens or prescription medication and drank alcohol as well. It was reflected in the popular Rock-n-Roll music culture and fashion. Here at the Lord Paget on April 19, 1974 that was quite evident as I glanced at Mack's attire. Only after he loosely tied a green silk scarf around his neck did I crack on him. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Mott the fucking Hoople or Rod the Mod?"
"You look to be part of David Bowie's or maybe even David Cassidy's entourage."
"It's what's in style you fucking fossil. You look like one of those north Lynnhaven grits."
"Yeah, kind of the way you looked last year, Mack or should I call you Ziggy Car Rust?"
"You got to get with the times, Flintstone." he chuckled. Black Tshirt, Levi's and boots, my sense of fashion had not changed since ninth grade. Aside from Mack and several others, we were more of the jeans, Tshirt, denim or leather jacket crowd. "Even if you look like a fucking tulip, you're still alright with me Mack." I returned.
"So what's there to do in this town, go visit Colonial Williamsburg?" he inquired while attaching a roach clip to the half burned joint. Offering him a light I replied: "There's a good many bars in this town and a good number of college girls usually drinking in them on weekend nights. Most of these joints are near William and Mary a mile or so away. We can either drive, call a cab or walk."
"College girls?"
"That's right and rather friendly if I recall my last visit here, but mind you these are no peninsula gals."
At that Mack jokingly asked: "Oh so I don't have to hide my wallet and stash?" To which I replied: "No most are from well to do families living out of state, some living out of the country."

Unwilling to walk over a mile in those platform boots or risk a drunk driving charge, Mack opted to call Colonial Cabs. While waiting for the cab we each had a few slugs of vodka and rolled a joint apiece so as not to be walking around with big bags in our pockets. Within twenty minutes we were standing on Scotland Street near the intersection of Richmond Road in between several eating and drinking establishments. Only early evening, but there were many young people were moving about on the street and sidewalks. "Do you smell that?" Mack whispered as the scent of marijuana smoke cut through the aroma of pizzas being baked. Rock-n-Roll music and the sounds of revelry blared from a fraternity house. Across the street we saw two young men and three women openly smoking a joint. "My kind of place." Mack laughed as a fellow passed us wearing almost the same outfit as his, right down to the green corduroy sports coat.

As we finished our Greek hamburger sub boats, a drunken William and Mary jock sat down beside Mack at the bar. "You clowns have to move." he slurred.
"Move?" Mack returned while sizing up the fellow who was as tall as me, but much more stocky. "That's right you fairy. My brothers and I sit here at the bar so you have to move. "Fairy?" Mack laughed but there was familiar fires blazing in those piercing green eyes. "You mean like Tinker Bell?" No sooner did the words leave Mack's lips did a gaggle of young pretty college girls come pouring in and at that the jock turn his head their their way. 'Here it comes.' I thought and sure enough with the speed of a striking cottonmouth, Mack grabbed the fellow's hair and slammed his head into the bar, not once but twice. He fell off the bar stool like a sack of potatoes. With everyone looking at the newly arriving customers, no patrons or stall saw Mack put this rude fellow temporarily out of action. When a waitress inquired about the unconscious young man, I told her: "Fucking drunk. Slipped off his perch and hit his head on the bar."

Swiftly paying our tab and leaving a good tip, we made our get away as the jock was slowly regaining his senses.

"Well that's it for this part of town, unless we're willing to fight the whole football team." I stated as we ambled eastward. "I've no patience when it comes to stupid mother fuckers like that." Mack informed me. "There's nothing like a little assault and battery to start off a Friday evening." I chuckled while matching the bold eye stare of a rather comely young lady with brunette hair that had been permed into an Afro-like style. Having a good look at her hair, pink sweater, blue denim midi skirt and platform sandals then taking a glance at Mack, it appeared evident popular fashion had changed. Across the street I saw two more girls wearing plaid bell bottoms. It all seemed a weird blending of the earlier British mod, California hippy look and the glimmer of what people were calling 'glitter'. I recalled what Mack said earlier about getting with the times and felt out of place. I wondered if my leather jacket made me look like a hood, but shrugged such thoughts off with a "Who gives a fuck?"
"What are you talking about, man?"
Changing the subject, I pointed to a small eatery and said: "Wonder if we can get a beer in there?"

Aside from a few customers, Mama Mia's was all but vacant. We ordered a pitcher of beer and sat in a booth which allowed a view of the entrance as we were not far from where Mack laid low that jock. Having myself a long cool quaff, I asked: "What now? I'm sure word has gotten out about us." Mack guzzled down a mug and chuckled: "Fuck em if they can't take their own medicine. Here in a few minutes I'll call a cab and get some information on some other drinking holes." Rising from our booth, Mack started for the restroom, but in stumbling over a floor mat, one of his platform heels dis-attached. "Just fucking great!" he cursed while reaching down to retrieve it before hobbling into the restroom.

The cab got us back to Lord Paget, where Mack not only changed from platform boots to a pair of Converse sneakers, but his whole attire as well stating tennis shoes would not go with his previous get up. Now clad in blue denim bib overalls, a black Tshirt and Levis jacket, he looked the old Mack I use to hang out with. Although a few inches shorter than earlier, he was still a force to be reckoned with. "Fuck it man, let's smoke a joint and have a good drink!" he proclaimed while pulling his stash from it's hiding place under the bottom dresser drawer. Sticking six rolling papers together, he proceeded to twist up a jumbo size doobie. As dusk fell the two of us smoked, drank and attempted to decide upon where we should go next. Our cab driver told us of several hotel lounges and a place called The Cave as well as another basement tavern called The Cellar. Supposedly these drinking establishments were shunned by the jocks and preppies. Our cab driver referred to the patrons of the two latter as being a hangout for - "freaks and dopers" which probably suit us fine, but for now we would get our heads right first. On the AM-FM radio I had brought along, Mack picked up the William and Mary radio station which was playing some decent tunes. From his suitcase he pulled out the bottle of Darvon. We each popped one and washed them down with vodka. "Hopefully that will calm your ass down." I told Mack as he re-lit the joint. We were both careful with such pain killers while drinking as one or at the most two was all either of us would need. Any more than that would be too much for our own good, especially out in public. For me the tinging of a small dosage of opiates with booze and weed in my system was a winning combination for a night out at the bars. It made for a more sedated and peaceful night of socializing. "I've been perfectly calm all evening." Mack returned with a sinister grin. "I'm a very calm and laid back kat."
"Oh you very calmly tenderized that fucking Ken doll's head on that hardwood bar." I reminded him. "Hopefully him and the football team aren't attempting to track us down. I've a mind trying to reach Bear at home."
"Friday night. That big fucker is probably either out in the woods or up in Flip's barn. Try calling Lowell."
"Well come to think about it Mack, we're up here laying low and maybe a barroom brawl wouldn't be a good idea." At that Mack agreed, adding: "The two of us should be sufficient. I ain't worried about no football team." Having said that he popped his knuckles. In our neighborhood it was the short guys like Lowell and Mack one had to worry about as they were like wolverines , but if bothered enough Bear certainly could also make a terrible mess out of someone's weekend. Lowell however would start a fight if none could be found, but as I mentioned, here in Williamsburg, we were attempting to lay low. "I hope those kats don't get popped this weekend." Mack said in regards to our group back home. "Like you said, they're either at Flip's barn or deep in the woods tonight."
"Hell, let's call Bear." Mack suggested.
"Why not invite Flip, Whitey, Bob and my crazy cousin Charlie?" I asked in a sarcastic tone.
"Why not? We could have a motel party."
"Why not? Because we're fucking trying to lay low up here. What if we manage to pick up some trim, how are you going to explain a giant freak and three or four weirdos to a couple of young collage babes?"
"Oh yeah, good thinking, Skid, but what about Bear? He's a good lad to have around in case of trouble."
"Call him then, but if he shows, I'm getting another room. That fucker snores like a jackhammer." Maybe it was a case of the feel goods that had Mack placing a long distance call down to Bear's home in Hampton.

Finishing the call with a "Tell him we're in room 111 at the Lord Paget on Capitol Landing Road." I could hear the muffled voice of Bear's mother, then Mack said: "Oh we're planning to take in a movie tonight and visit the historic area tomorrow. Alright have a good night yourself."
"Well?" I asked.
"His ma said Bear split right after dinner. She thinks he's gone over to Flip's. I'm going to call there."
"The hell you say?"
"Don't worry, I'll get Flip's sister to fetch Bear to the phone, that way those other crazy mother fuckers won't have a clue."
"I really wish you wouldn't call down there." I stated, "Honestly I don't it's a wise choice, Mack. Shit man, Bob's a fucking skag junkie and either Charlie or Whitey will get us all locked up in the Williamsburg Jail before morning. This town would throw all of them into cultural shock, especially Bear. What happens if someone pisses him off? Besides neither Charlie, Flip or Whitey have fake IDs. What the fuck are we going to do with those weird fuckers, leave them here to destroy this room while we're out bar hopping?"
"Relax man, they won't know a thing." At that point I began wondering why Mack really wanted Bear to come up. Was it for protection or something else? "Look man, I'm going out to the vending machine for something to chase rum with." I informed him, "Mind you Mack, if those other fruit loops show up here and fuck up this weekend you'll have me to deal with."

'That Darvon must of hit him in a weird way.' I thought while ambling up the motor lodge walkway with a small square ice bucket in my hand. 'He hasn't been up in Flip's barn in close to a year, but now he want's to chance having those fellows come rolling into our scene here.' It didn't make sense to me. Looking around at this quaint, quiet and somewhat scenic motor lodge complex I could only imagine what mayhem Charlie and Whitey could cause here. Unless provoked, Bear and even Flip would be alright. Bob on the other hand would probably pass out in the bathroom after running up some smack.

"Fuck that." I muttered under my breath. 'I'll just get another room.' As approached the vending machines a rather short rotund fellow and a woman of similar build were there getting snacks. Upon both of their heads were Colonial Williamsburg gift shop tricorn hats. Having a good look at me coming out of the shadows, they left swiftly got their packs of nabs and scurried off. Although it was a little cool outside, I could hear a few different types of frogs chirping, croaking and trilling coming from the pond. Gazing beyond the pond, I saw several deer moving along the wood's edge. I had a particular fondness for this area, especially the rolling wooded terrain and many streams. Nothing like the flat often swampy woodlands of Hampton. Sometimes I toyed with the thought of moving here one day. As an artist and craftsman, the higher level of culture also attracted me. Unlike other older fellows in my old neighborhood, I did not want to end up working in the shipyard, civil service or construction. Mack and I didn't do too bad for high school seniors along with what we earned from part time restaurant jobs was around six hundred dollars each a week from our side business. Not bad for high school boys and far more than what we'd be making at the shipyard. Neither parents,
teachers, girl friends or many other neighborhood folk knew about our little side business which kept the local fuzz oblivious as well. Aside from a few articles of expensive clothing, such as Mack's earlier attire, we didn't flash around our wealth all that often, especially in Hampton, but would live somewhat large when out of town. All and all we were good kids at home and our parents had no problem with us spending weekends away up in the mountains or down in Nags Head. It was our girl friends who would give us a bit of grief if we didn't take them along. I imagine Mack got a double dose as he had two girl friends. One, a pom pom girl from a well to do family in another neighborhood, she drank very little and didn't smoke weed or cigarettes and went to church every Sunday. The other who reminded me of Carly Simon was a north Lynnhaven gal who drank, smoked and was much more promiscuous than his girl on the other side of town. I was in between girlfriends, but had been out on a few dates with a young lady from my art class. She seemed a little ticked off that I wasn't spending this beautiful weekend with her as we kind of planned last week.

While walking back I could feel the Darvon's effects .

Opening the door and somewhat floating across the threshold, my lighter than air feeling was soon to be scattered by Mack's grim facial expression. "Bob's gone." he muttered. Without asking I knew what he meant. "Bear told me Bob's little brother found him this afternoon with a needle sticking in his arm."
"Oh no!" I wailed, but was not all that surprised. Bob had in his possession enough smack to kill all of us. Early one morning last month on the grounds of Lakeshore Apartments while staggering home from a party, Bob had found a briefcase full of China white heroin under a boxwood bush. We had heard there were some skag dealers across the lake, but could only speculate how such a large quantity was left outside unattended. Having snorted a little bit with Bob, I found it a bit too heavy duty for me. Bob planned to sit on his find for awhile then attempt to sell the whole lot of it at once. Instead he got into it with a passion. Some of us told him to be careful with his intake, but he obviously didn't. As I went for the rum Mack also informed me: "Bear said Lynnhaven is crawling with fuzz, uniformed and plainclothes. He said a couple of kids have already got busted smoking pot down by the lake."
"Is Bear coming up?"
"Yeah if he can borrow his dad's pickup truck. He's suppose to call here after he walks home."

For an hour we mournfully sat and drank. Both of us had known Bob for years, but here of late he pushed his drug and alcohol intake to the limit. Finding all that smack was like a death sentence for Bob and could of been the same for any others getting down with him. Once he got his hands on some syringes, that was it. This was bad as Bob's dad had died last year from liver disease. Both his parents were a bit more than social drinkers. Sitting on a motel bed quaffing rum I pondered upon how the 1970s so far seemed a decade of dope and drinking. Aside from what we teenagers did, a good many adults were getting slammed as well. Husbands who started drinking when they got home from work and their wives popping easily attained prescription drugs. If some kids wanted something different from alcohol or weed, all they had to to was raid the medicine cabinet or mom's dresser drawer. Tranquilizers and amphetamines and pain killers were all part of what seemed to be a generation of dopers. Then there were the illegal drugs we youngsters could get our hands on. I wondered how many of us came out of the womb already dope heads. Perhaps after so much social unrest across the country and almost a decade of fighting in southeast Asia, most everyone felt better while having some sort of buzz going. After two cups of rum and a few more tokes, I did.

A familiar knock upon the door livened us up a bit. Mack rose from a motel chair to open it and in lumbered Bear. Close to seven feet tall he was the biggest kid in the neighborhood and fortunately for me, a very good friend. Extremely trusted, he occasionally assisted Lee, Mack and I. Clad in blue jeans, a black button up shirt and Levis jacket, shaggy brass colored hair fell about his broad shoulders. Although Bear flashed a wide smile, he regarded us with serious and somewhat bloodshot grey eyes. "What's happening?" he greeted. As Mack started to close the door, Bear said: "Wait, there's others."
"Others?" I asked.
"Oh yeah." he replied while lighting up a cigarette. I could now hear footfalls coming down the walk outside.
"What the fucking hell?" Mack growled as Flip and my cousin Charlie ambled by him with backpacks slung on their shoulders. "I bought them up here with me." Bear grunted. "Cops everywhere." Charlie stated, then asked: "Y'all got anything for the head?" Ignoring him, I asked Bear: "What's going on down there?"
"You guys skipped today."
"Oh man there were cops and dogs checking lockers and shaking down all the freaks. A few kids got popped."
"Anybody we hang with?"
"No, thank goodness." Bear replied, but things got really fucked up when Brad came home and found Bob dead with a needle sticking out of his arm and a big bag of smack on the night stand."
"There must of been five cop cars at Bob's house." Flip informed us as he lived right down the road from Bob. I seen a detective coming out with Bob's briefcase just as his mom pulled up. The fuzz are questioning people."
"So with all that smack they probably think Bob was some kind of big dealer." Mack grimly stated. "Probably." Bear returned, adding: "What's troubling is they probably know by now who some of his friends are. Charlie and Flip here have already been briefly questioned by two detectives while I was getting my dad's truck." Mack approached Flip as he was setting his backpack on a bed. "What the fuck did you tell, Birdman?" Flip backed up a few feet knowing that Mack was not all that fond of him. Behind a pair of thick glasses the Birdman's dark beady eyes darted about. "Here have a drink, Flippy." I offered while passing him my cup of rum. He gulped the liquor down, wheezed and said: "I told them that I'd never seen Bob with any heroin. I also told them he rarely came up to the barn any more to play pool."
"Smart lad." Mack returned and then asked my cousin: "What did you tell them, Chucky?" Charlie watched as I poured him a cup of rum and replied: "Told em I heard he found the smack over at Lakeshore Apartments and how I was getting ready to tell my parents to call the police since he wasn't."
"You what?" Mack shouted.
"Actually it was a smart move." Bear stated, "Now most of the cops hauled ass to Lakeshore, but they're still patrolling Lynnhaven." Handing the cup to Charlie and the big half gallon bottle to Bear I said: "Smart move indeed, but rather cold having to snitch on a dead man. If believed it will divert unwanted attention away from us." Bear lifted the big bottle and toasted. "Here's to Bob! Off to the next world without the pain of dying." Not a tear was shed because after the last several years of having a good many older boys and grown men, some kin from the area killed or maimed over in Vietnam we were now somewhat desensitized to death. Bear's father was wounded over there while I lost a cousin and saw what it did to my older brother mentally. Many of us who watched that war on television feared we would be drafted upon turning eighteen. Then the southeast Asia conflict began to wear down in favor of the North Vietnamese and no one else was getting drafted. Oh how we celebrated that defeat. In fact it was because of that war that guys like us had a good side business making and saving enough money to put towards an extended stay in Canada if our numbers were called. Others made that trip, so would Lee, Mack and I if necessary. We were not opposed to fighting, but would not risk our lives where the survivors of that hell told us not to go. Bear's father had even taken measures to keep his only son from going over there. In a way Bob's death could probably be attributed to that war as a lot of extremely potent Asian smack was coming into the states via the armed forces. Warrior junkies returning home attempting to smuggle back as much heroin as they could. We were more interested in the various 'knock your socks off' strains of southeast Asian weed finding their way into our area.

Mack directed his next question to Charlie and Flip. "So where are you fuckers going to sleep tonight?"
"I'm going to take care of that." Bear replied. "My mom thought it was great that I was going to do something educational, like visit Williamsburg and gave me an extra two hundred dollars so I could see Jamestown as well. So I'm going to get my own room and let these two bivouac there." Mack still glaring at Flip, inquired: "What about you boys, got any money or weed?"
"I've twenty bucks and a half pint of Old Crow." Charlie replied while helping himself to a cup of vodka. "High rolling are ye, Chucky?" Mack laughed then again glared at Flip. "What about you, Bird Boy?"
"Two joints and fifty bucks. Who the fuck are you to asked?" Flip answered, his dark crow-like eyes leering at Mack. Knowing that these two had fought each other before on several occasions I stepped in. "Alright boys, we're kindred spirits in a strange town and Mack, you've already made an enemy or enemies here, so it would be best if the five of us stick together as comrades."
"Make that seven." Bear added.
"Mitch and Woo came to the barn to shoot pool as I was picking up Charlie and Flip."
"Charlie blabbed that we were coming here to a motel party. Mitch told me they were going to try wrangling a couple of dates and probably get their own room."
"That's good." I growled. "I don't mind Woo, but I've had to kick Mitch's ass before."
"Well fuck, we should of rented a tour bus and brought all of Lynnhaven with us." Mack sardonically stated to which I said: "Listen to you, the guy who earlier was suffering for more company. Well with Charlie already here and Mitch and Woo on their way we can toss out laying low as an option." For a few tense moments I was somewhat concerned about our well being, then as the Darvon and drinks hit me in an odd way, my thoughts were of how interesting it could get while experiencing one culture encountering another.

"Oh dear god." Mack chuckled, "Mitch and Woo."

Going into my stash, I rolled a couple of joints. Giving one to Bear and the other to Mack, I said: "Fire em up!" Bear lit his, took a big toke and passed it to Flip. "Taste like some good shit, man. Can you get me a bag?" For good reason we kept our side business a secret when around either Charlie or Flip. "No that's it, Mack and I got the dude's last two bags."
"Want to sell me a half or maybe even a nickel bag?"
"Oh this ain't your regular twenty bucks an o-z shit, Flippy." Mack informed him, adding: "No I ain't selling none and how very rude of you to ask." Turning to me the Birdman inquired: "What about you?"
"Sorry Flip, I'll smoke some with you and maybe give you a joint, but I'm not selling none of my stash." Actually after this drug sweep and Bob's death I would take a break from the side business for a while and keep this ounce and two more hidden at home for my personal stash. If Lee and Mack were smart they would do the same. We would have to call a meeting come Sunday evening. "Charlie, you triple toking bogart, pass that fucking joint!" Bear growled. A smile spread across my cousin's face. Around my height, but thin as a rail, Charlie at age fifteen was a substance abuser. Swarthy, with big, often bugged out eyes and a shock of black hair, his substance induced antics could swiftly get out of hand. Although my kin, I would leave him in Bear's charge as the big fellow had a way of dealing with trifling party guests. Flip on the other hand caused very little trouble, but his stinginess and mooching was unsettling at times. Clad in burgundy corduroy bell bottoms, plaid flannel shirt and green army surplus coat, he sported a red bandanna tied around his head. As lean as Charlie, but more swarthy than my cousin or me, Flip wasn't all that well liked by Charlie whom he often picked on and Mack who often picked on him. I could recall the time when Flip asked Mack for a joint and was given some rolled up dried lawn grass which he lit then choked on. Hopefully I could keep the two from tearing each other's throat out.

"So how's the night life like up here, Skid?" Bear asked while flashing his new fake drivers license on which had him as Theodore Beare. "We'll see soon enough, Ted." I chuckled and turned to Flip whom like Bear was only seventeen. "Did you ever get your fake ID?" Again his dark beady eyes darted about. "I'm not paying a hundred bucks for a fake ID." he replied. At that Mack happily informed him: "Looks like you and Chucky are staying here to hold down the fort while we responsible adults go out drinking in a responsible manner."
"Why? We're going by taxi." I reminded Mack to which he growled: "To get slammed!" Bear nodded his head in agreement then said: "Well let me go up to the office and register a room then we can be on our way."

For a reasonable off season rate Bear procured a suite-like brick cottage which included two beds, a kitchenette and sitting area. His accommodations also included a small patio over looking the pond. It was from there we called for a cab.
"So this is going to be the party pad, eh?" Mack asked as he peered into a mini fridge. Out of charity we left Charlie and Flip with twelve beers, the rum as well as a fat joint. Bear told the two - "Don't wreck or burn down this place while we're gone and no stupid shit that will get us kicked out of here or arrested either. You got that, Charlie?"

Hearing the cabby honk for us, we three ambled outside..

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#6 Atehequa


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Posted 20 March 2015 - 10:54 PM

2- Taking in the night life

The Ramada Inn's lounge was half full upon our arrival. Our cab driver recommended this spot. Telling us of live bands, rock-n-roll music, dancing and chicks, we agreed on his suggestion. By this time I was higher than a buzzard riding a thermal and from the looks of both Bear and Mack, we made a wise choice by taking a cab. Another thing I noticed about Bear and Mack earlier was the private conversation they had outside our room at Lord Paget. I figured it concerned personal matters, money or perhaps dope.

We were not too disappointed that no live band was there playing and distracting females. From four large speakers blared Stealers Wheel - Stuck in the Middle With You. Led to our table by a rather shapely hostess in a short denim skirt and tight blouse. Taking a good look at the three of us, Bear and I now sporting wide brim hats along with Mack attired in his bib overalls get up, she asked if we were in a band. Sticking both thumbs into the bib of the overalls, Mack laughed while nodding his head. Our appearance and probably Bear's size attracted a lot of attention. In no time a waitress clad somewhat like the hostess bounced over to our table.

"Hi, I'm Winnie. What can I get for you gentlemen?"

Bear ordered a zombie, Mack wanted a triple shot of crown with a Budweiser chaser and I opted for mescal and grapefruit juice. In the dim light Winnie took a good look at us all and asked: "You guys twenty one or over?"
"Of course." Mack replied, "Care to see proof?"
"Oh I believe you." Winnie replied while raking away long brown bangs from her eyes. Bear pulled out his fake driver's license anyway. "Ted Beare, ma'am." he said barely able to hold back his laughter. Glancing over at the hostess who was watching us, Winnie said: "Yeah I better check your IDs. "Ellery Mallory, now that's a name you don't hear all that often."
"Call me Ell." I told her, "But don't call Richard here, Dick."
"Dick Dickerson!" Bear laughed.
"Alright there, Teddy Beare." Mack returned with a green eyed glare then informed Winnie only she could call him Dick which put a smile on her face.
"You guys visiting Williamsburg?"
"Indeed we are." Mack replied, adding: "We're extremely interested in early American history."
"Well you all are in the right place for that. I'll be right back with your drinks." with that she bonce over to the bar. "A little cutie pie." Mack said with a grin.
"True enough, Dick." Bear laughed, but it was the two young women who walked slowly by our table that had us three gawking. Two blondes clad in tight midi skirts, thin tight sweaters and white high heel pumps. They looked almost to be sisters. "Can I buy you ladies a drink?" Mack inquired while he ogled both.
"Oh a drink, then a dance then up to your room, huh?" The taller one more or less hissed. Mack scowled, then smiled and said: "I'm not staying at the Ramada, but I can get you across town to my room."
"Get real, farmboy." she returned.
"Hell no!" she replied and then loudly quoted from Helen Reddy's hit song: "I am woman, hear me roar!" which seemed to embarrass her friend. At that Bear rose to his full height, stared at the young woman with his stormy grey eyes and rumbled: "I am Bear hear me growl." then with a savage snarl issued a very throaty "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr." which at first rendered them motionless liken to little spotted fawn reacting to danger. Somewhat regaining their wits, the two fast stepped to their table. "What do you suppose her problem was?" Bear inquired as we watched Winnie slowly approach us with our drinks.
"Women's Liberation." I replied, "Guess she took Dick here to be a cad." Mack lit a cigarette, blew smoke in my face and said: "That's Richard to you fuckers." then he shook his head. "Damn. It ain't like I asked for a hand job underneath the table."
"Don't let it trouble you, Mack." I stated, "You don't know what her day's been like and she probably had a few too many already."

Setting our drinks on the table, Winnie chuckled. "I see you gentlemen have met the Doublemint Twins."
"The who?" Bear laughed.
"Those two weirdos. Oh my god they're a mess." Winnie went on to inform us that: "They're obviously not twins, but come in here every Friday night dressed identical. They're both lushes. The tall one likes to play mind games, tease a bit. The shorter one follows the other's lead."
"Mind games, what kind of mind games?" I asked now noticing just how attractive Winnie appeared in the dim lounge light. "The tall one, Connie likes to play yes means no and no means yes game, if you catch my drift. Connie use to work here, but the manager had to let her go because of customer complaints."
"Weirdo, eh?" Bear chuckled.
"Not only that, although both of them are on the pill, they tell guys they've had sex with they're pregnant. Especially Connie." At that Mack gulped down his triple shot of sour mash and grunted: "Sick critters."
"Knowing those two, they'll be back around as you guys are fresh meat." Hearing that, Bear roared with laughter and said: "You hear that Dick? Fresh meat." Winnie shook her head as we paid for our drinks. "I've confident you gentlemen will be able to handle yourselves." which had Bear asking: "Why do you say that?" Winnie leaned in and whispered something in Bear's ear while stroking his shaggy hair. Blushing a bit, he then blurted out his room number at the Lord Paget. Smiling, Winnie sashayed away with considerably more bounce. Mack looked at Bear with feigned wonderment. "Go ahead, Mr. Smooth Move! What did she whisper in your ear, big boy?"
"Something she didn't whisper in your's, Mackey old boy." Bear replied with a sly smile.

After a couple of rounds we were grooving to Uriah Heep's Easy Livin' when sure enough as Winnie predicted, the Doublement Twins shuffled back over to our table. The tall one, Connie, who seemed to do all the talking now had a remorseful look upon her face and went into a long weird apology. "Hey guys, I'm so sorry for reacting that way. I've had to deal with a lot of creeps in here." Batting her blue shadowed fake eye lashed lids at Mack, she said: "I would be honored if you bought me a drink." Glancing over at Mack, I saw some devious fires playing in his bloodshot green eyes and thought: 'Oh here we go.'
"Sure baby, I'll buy you a drink, but would also like to grind against you on the dance floor, then I thought we could get a room and roll around on a king size bed, or the floor." Connie's brows knotted and her jaw nearly dropped on our table. "What?"

"If you're pressed for time you can just give me a hand job under the table here."

Her hiss would of shamed an angry cobra. "Why you little fucking creep! I'm telling the manager!"
"Tell him to have the state mental hospital come pick your crazy ass up." Mack chuckled. Needless to say she stormed off leaving the smaller twin there gawking at us.

Although sympathetic, Dean, the food and beverage manager advised us to leave as there was a chance that Connie would call the cops which could lead into a big hassle. He recommended the Cave to us. Bear spoke briefly to Winnie before we went outside to wait for our cab. "Decent drinks and good music. Hate having to split this place." I stated while lighting up a smoke.

On the other side of William and Mary's campus from where Mack slammed that jock's head into a hardwood bar, the Cave. A basement tavern, it was one of the strangest drinking establishments I had ever set foot in. Walls painted granite grey and from the ceiling hung fake stalactites adorned with fake spider webs and rubber spiders. Also suspended from the ceiling on fishing line were several black rubber bats. Behind a small bar stood a smaller bartender clad in a flowery Hawaiian shirt which was set aglow by a black light. With eyes as beady as Flip's, from his wavy dark oily hair and beard, he appeared to be either Greek or Italian. Seemingly friendly, he smiled and waved to us as we entered. Along with a pale, red headed waitress there were close to a dozen people either seated at the bar or around tables illuminated by candle globes. They appeared different than the Ramada Inn's lounge patrons. A swift sweeping glance at them had me thinking these were the doper freaks, somewhat pseudo junkie beatnik blended with the artistic acid head types from the last decade. A couple wore tie dye shirts, while most of the others were more somberly clad. Needless to say aside from a little initial attention paid to us, the patrons and staff went about their business. Casting a glance at the bar, it was evident we were in a beer bar as I saw no bottles of liquor.

Set up with a large pitcher of ale and three mugs, we sat taking in the scene. From the jukebox came some kind of weird jazz music which seemed complement this place. Mack and I liked the Cave, but Bear seemed uncomfortable. "What the hell kind of joint is this?"
"A nice place that we ain't been kicked out of yet." Mack replied, adding: "Relax big guy."
"I'm relaxed and it's you getting people kicked out of places." Hearing that, Mack gulped down a mug of beer and suggested: "I think it's time for some medication, we should burn a doob."
"In here?" I asked.
"No outside. We'll take a walk down the street. Let's finish this pitcher and see to it." Walking south on Jamestown Road's sidewalk we smoked a joint. The few passer byes paid us no mind as did the cop car that rolled right on by. Another block and we found ourselves at Lake Matoaka. Stepping over a guard rail and ambling down the embankment we came to a halt beside dark still waters. A crescent moon hung like scimitar blade in the star studded night sky. There was enough light to see the black outline of trees around the lake. Occasionally we heard the splash of fish breaking water. Already quite high, Mack lit up another joint which we were able to smoke half of. "You know I'm kind of digging this place." Mack stated as he looked out across the lake's still waters reflecting both moon and stars. "I'm thinking there's some decent fishing up here in this part of the land." I added.
"New country." Mack mused aloud, but in fact this was very old country as far as civilization goes. Only several miles away from Jamestown Island this tract of land was settled in the mid 17th century and in the 1690s construction of the college had begun. By the early 18th century Williamsburg was being built. This land had known the tread of English colonists and their descendants for well over three centuries. However, I could feel even older spirits.

Bear began lumbering up the embankment while saying: "Let's get back to the bar, I've got cottonmouth."

Upon reentering the Cave we saw that some patrons had left while others arrived, and one of those new arrivals was doing her best to stare holes through me. Of medium height, full figured and clad in some weird pseudo beatnik which really caught my eye. Along with a loose, plunging neckline black sweater that fell to her mid thigh, she wore black tights and black pumps. Her eyes were heavily lined in almost an ancient Egyptian fashion much complimented by an aquiline nose, full lips and from what I could tell in the dim light was long shag cut sandy hair spilling out from a black tam. Her attire had me thinking of Patty Hearst AKA 'Tania'. She neither smiled or grimaced while staring at me as we seated ourselves. Finally I smiled and tipped my hat at her. Mack too had noticed her staring our way."What do you think Skid, another weird chick like in that last joint?" he whispered. "Weird in an intriguing way." I returned while still matching her gaze. Then from the restroom another young lady joined her. Rather comely with long brown hair, she was clad in jeans, black Tshirt and brown Bobbie Brooks blazer. Her cowgirl boots produced a certain rhythm as she walked across the tile floor. Now both stood by the bar staring at us and occasionally whispering. "They're definitely checking us out." Bear said in his normal tone. "Appears so." Mack added. "May as well introduce myself." he rose from our table and ambled over towards the two young ladies. "Doesn't that fucker already have two or three girlfriends back home?" Bear asked "Well are we going to introduce ourselves?" I returned to which grunted and said: "Look at Mack over there, Mr. Eager for beaver yapping away, but both of them are still looking at us."
"Indeed they are, but are we going over there to introduce ourselves?"
"We don't need to. They're going come over here." Sure enough within seconds of Bear's statement Mack was leading the two young ladies to our table.

"Ell, Ted, this is Sally and Mary." Mack informed us as he scooted an empty table to join ours and accommodate the two young ladies. "Which one of you are who?" Bear asked then got up to grab them a couple of chairs. "I'm Sally." the brunette replied as she seated herself. From this close distance I saw that she had a lot of foundation makeup on her face. At first I thought acne, but then saw little freckles on her neck. Personally the sight of freckles did not trouble me, in fact I rather like them in moderation. Sally's eyes were a rich brown like her hair. I gently shook her hand then extended mine to the other young woman. "You must be Mary."
"I must." she returned while accepting my hand. "And which one are you, El or Ted?"
"El, as in El Cid, El Dorado or El Kabong?"
"Ell as in short for Ellery. Ellery Mallory at your service."
"How cavalier of you." she said mockingly while still holding my hand. Before releasing it, she slightly tickled my palm with the red painted nail of her index finger. 'Ahhh, a frisky one.' I thought while experiencing a bit of stirring below the belt. There was also no mistaking the look in her eyes.

Then the door flew open and in stepped a bizarre, but familiar figure. Tall, lanky, he was clad in faded jeans that were tucked into tall biker boots, a black Tshirt and black leather bomber jacket. Upon a head of long wavy dirty blonde hair he wore what appeared to be a drab colored World War One British officer's cap adorned with a silver marijuana leaf pin. There was no mistaking that thick straw colored Fu Manchu mustache and tinted silver framed glasses. "Woo!" Bear shouted from our table. By that time all eyes were upon him. Bowing to everyone Woo announced: "Ladies, Gentlemen! The King of Williamsburg and his party!" Down off the stairs strolled in an even more bizarre figure. The first thing I noticed was the huge tricorn hat adorned with a spray of purple dyed ostrich plumes and the face beneath it, especially the slightly twisted nose, courtesy of my brother some five years ago. Aside from the biker boots his attire appeared to be 18th century which had me wondering if Mitch had stolen this costume after arriving in Williamsburg. Like Woo, Mitch sported a Fu Manchu mustache as well which did not go with his get up.

My earlier encounters with Mitch were not all that cordial. Since my brother was not around to be held accountable for the broken nose he gave him some five years ago, Mitch came after me on a few occasions. Each time he was soundly beat. The last time occurred in the woods nearly a year ago. I blackened both of his eyes while beating him almost senseless. Mitch would get it again if he decided upon troubling me. Quite unexpectedly both patrons and staff applauded him as he raised his hands in the air.

Bear, Mack or I were very much surprised over the next two arrivals who stepped inside behind Mitch. One was Rosie, Mack's Lynnhaven squeeze dressed to the nines in a long, low cut white evening gown slit up the side revealing one of her shapely long legs. Rosie, a dark beauty was half Bolivian, but as I mentioned earlier somewhat favored Carly Simon. Rosie's estranged father, a former government employee had met her mother while working in South America. For several seconds she glared at us before taking her place beside Woo. "How in the hell did she find me here?" Mack muttered.
"How in the hell did Mitch and Woo find us?" I returned.

As she stepped from behind Mitch we got a good look at the other young woman. "Well I'll be damned." Bear whispered. "Crazy Connie." The tallest of those Doublemint Twins we had encountered back at the Ramada, I expected the other one to come strolling inside, but she didn't...

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#7 Atehequa


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Posted 20 March 2015 - 10:57 PM

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#8 Atehequa


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Posted 22 March 2015 - 06:50 PM

3 - The King of Williamsburg

"Are those people with you?" the waitress asked as she came to take our order. "I hope not." was my reply while watching the madness unfurl like a circus banner. Both Mitch and Woo were certifiably insane as the former kept clear of Vietnam because of his condition while the latter received a Section 8 while in the war. Both bikers, Mitch worked as a roofer and Woo was an air brush artist at his brother's customized van shop. Some five years older than Mack and I, the two hailed from north Lynnhaven thus even more crazy than us or my cousin Charlie.

"Good people of Williamsburg,, I izz the king."

Having probably seen his share of substance addled costumed Colonial Williamsburg employees the bartender laughed and bowed."Your majesty! We are truly honored."
"Party of four to be seated over there with our friends from the Corps of Discovery!" Woo ordered only to have the waitress shout: "Sit where you want, this isn't the fucking Ramada!"
"Oh indeed not!" Woo returned, "We were just banished from that shit hole." Then the four of them approached our table. Halting just short of us, Mitch rubbed Connie's shoulder and said: "This is the Lewis and Clark expedition."
"Lewis and Clark?"
Pointing at Bear he chuckled: "Jerry Lewis." then he pointed at Mack he said: "Petula Clark." after which he stuck his palm up to me. "How!" Glaring at Mitch, I remained silent, but when he referred to me as the expedition's guide - 'Sackofshitweeaa', I laughed and said: "You're going to look rather funny with that hat crammed half way down your throat, Mitchy."
"That'll fuck up a Friday night for sure." he returned and surprised me by offering everyone an apology then started to introduce us until I gave him a hand signal and said: "Mary, Sally, Ted, Richard and Ellery." which had Rosie laughing and Bear asking: "Where did you steal that Paul Revere outfit?" Acting as if he was taken aback, Mitch replied: "Steal? Oh no dear lad it's borrowed. My Aunt Elaine used to work as a seamstress in the costume department of Colonial Williamsburg and had some of these outfits up in her attic."
"Then she stole them." I said.
"More or less." Mitch returned.

Mack turned to Connie and mockingly asked: "Haven't we met before?" then he looked at Rosie and inquired upon why she was up here.

"Because Woo asked me if I wanted to come. Something that you obviously didn't want to do. I think you're a little too busy to be coming around my house anymore."

It sounded like her relationship with Mack had just ended. He glanced at her, issued a bark of laughter and attempted engaging Sally in small talk. I couldn't hold Rosie at fault as to Mack she was only a good time girl. He kept her on a stringer for those times he was too fucked up for his other more straitlaced girlfriend. I liked Rosie and was glad to see this relationship end. I also wondered about Woo's intentions.

As Bear and Woo were scooting another table as well as some more chairs over to our's, Mitch put his arm around the Doublemint Twin's waist then went on to introduce her. Ladies and gentlemen this is Connie. I rescued her from that foul shit hole on the other side of town. Some dish, huh?"
"Where's your friend at, Connie?" Mack chuckled. Mitch seemed surprised. "You two know each other?"
"Oh we met briefly back at the Ramada, but she was with another chick." Glancing at Mary and Sally, I saw they were quite entertained. Connie who appeared rather liquored up slurred: "Sandra got scared of Uncle Mitch and Woo Woo ,, but I don't know why, they're just as sweet and funny as they can be." Then she walked off toward the restrooms.

"So you got kicked out of the Ramada, eh Mitch?" I inquired. A twisted grin played upon his face and in a low tone informed us all, young women included: "The hostess at the Ramada caught sight of Connie giving me a hand job under the table. Needless to say the manager told us to leave before he called the fuzz" Hearing that Mack swore: "A fucking hand job? Shit!" Mitch nodded his head and continued. "That prude of a hostess told me I was a tainting embarrassment to all the other hard working historic interpreters and craftspeople. They especially had a case of the ass with Connie. Nice gal, but boy can she run up a bar tab quick swilling down top shelf booze." Mary shook her head and chuckled. "You're quite a charming fellow." Mitch flashed her a snarling smile and said: "I'm a product of my environment, darling. No more, no less just like Rosie and these fellows here." At that Mary gave me an odd look, laughed and asked: "You all aren't escapees from the state mental hospital, are you?" Hearing that, Woo howled with laughter and replied: "Too damn crazy for that place. Oh no Miss Mary, we're from down in Lynnhaven." then he shouted to the waitress: "The king and his company are parched, bring us drink!"
"Drink?" she returned, "What the fuck do I look like, a mind reader, Slappy?" to which him and Mitch ordered three pitchers of pale ale.

'Ahhh, a decent drinking hole.' I mused, 'Pretty girls, some particularly decent ale and,," my musings were interrupted by Mary blurting out: "Oh dear lord, don't tell me you all are from the Lynnhaven right beside James River Hunt Club down in Hampton?" Bear flashed a savage looking smile, nodded his shaggy head and said: "That's right, but when there's no horse shows, the stables, pasture and judge's tower are part of our turf."
"You're some of those hoodlums who drink and do drugs on private property." Then she surprised me by asking: "So what are we partying with tonight?" Before any of us could reply, Connie emerged from the ladies room. Taking the conversation away from drugs and hoodlums I asked Mitch how he found us.
"The second cab driver we had." he replied. "Woo described you boys and he brought us here. Just as the first driver took us to the Ramada. I told them I was your cousin."

As we quaffed ale and engaged in small talk a few costumed Colonial Williamsburg employees entered the Cave. From their conversation I gathered they had just finished a lantern tour of the restored area. Noticing Mitch, one of them asked him if he was a recent hire or a new resident all caught up with the history. Woo stood up and said: "His majesty is not in the habit of answering to just any yahoos fresh off the road."
"It's quite alright, General Woo, I am not so easily offended." With a sweeping hand gesture he addressed the costumed CW employee. "I'm Mitchell, King of Lynnhaven and this is my entourage."
"I thought you were the king of Williamsburg." Sally laughed. "Me too." Mary added. Mitch in rare form introduced us. "Of course this is my minister of mayhem General Woo and here we have Lady Connie of east Williamsburg. Princess Rosie of north Lynnhaven." Nodding his tricorn hat topped head at Bear he said: "This is my minister of pain, code name Kodiak. Shake hands, Bear." at that Bear grabbed the fellow's hand in a near crushing grip. Pointing at Mack and I he informed the now frightened CW employee: "These are my high councilors Sir Ellery of Celery and Richard the Chicken Gizzard. These lovely young ladies, Mary and Sally are their consorts." A look of concern upon his face, the young interpreter who obviously knew Mary and Sally inquired if they were alright.
"We're fine." Mary assured him. "Just entertaining or rather being entertained by foreign dignitaries." In character that was probably inspired by some old Douglas Fairbanks or Errol Flynn pirate movie, Mitch demanded: "And who might you be, Sirrah?"
"Well Alex, bring your friends hither and join us."
"Hither?" Bear laughed.

Alex motioned his companions, another fellow and a somewhat short plump woman over. At once Mitch was quite taken with how the woman's 18th century bodice pushed up and exposed a good part of her bosom. Rising from the table, Mitch doffed his tricorn hat, bowed and asked the woman: "May I have this dance?" Not waiting for a reply from the obviously nervous young lady, he grabbed her hand and pulled his dumbstruck dance partner out to a small open area by the bar. I recognized the music they slow danced to as being Chick Corea's Bliss! Already perceiving this to be a magical night, I looked at Mary, who was looking at me - "I'd love to." she said before I could even ask and within seconds we were embracing while moving our feet around by the bar. When that instrumental piece ended, Mitch released the CW employee and shouted for Connie and soon the four of us were jerking and shaking our bodies to Savoy Brown's A Hard Way to Go. Glancing at Mary jiggling about, then at Mitch in his 18th century attire bobbing around with that crazy blonde in a tight sweater bouncing hither and there I thought - 'This is truly a marvelous time to be alive. When Mary came in close, turned around and rubbed her derriere on my crotch, I knew I'd been stricken by spring fever.

As the song ended we four walked back towards our tables, but upon hearing the next song and seeing Rosie accepting Woo's hand for a dance, Mitch shouted at Alex. "Lafayette you flaming Frenchman, get up and dance with your lady friend! She's rather good on her feet in case you haven't noticed!" Having built up a thirst, Mary and I sat T.REX's Get it On out, however Mack asked Sally for a dance.

We spent the next hour dancing and quaffing ale before deciding to take the party over to our lodgings at the Lord Paget. The two male Colonial Williamsburg employees declined, but Miss Alice Pettingway, a CW visitor's guide dared to accompany us. Mack and I rode in Mary's 1969 Camaro while everyone else piled into two cabs. The Bartender and some of the patrons seemed saddened by our departure, but the waitress, even though she made some decent tips said: "Good, now maybe things can go back to normal."

First to arrive at the Lord Paget, Mary, Sally, Mack and I entered our room. Asking the ladies to have a seat, Mack added: "You inquired about what we have to party with?"
"I did." Mary replied as she looked about the room. Somewhat of a good judge of character when it came to being cool or not, Mack asked: "You ladies smoke?"
"We don't smoke cigarettes if that's what your asking." Sally replied then inquired: "What have you got?" With that I said: "It's my turn." then proceeded to get my stash and roll a fat joint. "Some Panama Red for the head." Handing the joint to Mary and offering her a light, she drew in a good toke. Passing it to Sally she exhaled and proclaimed: "Damn, that's some good tasting herb."

Just as we were finishing up there was a familiar knocking upon our door. It was Bear. Instead of coming in he called Mack outside. "Alright you two, what's all this secret shit about?" I growled. Looking into the room and seeing Mary toking on a roach, Bear entered our room, closed the door and grunted: "What the hell, might as well." then reached into his Levis jacket pocket and pulled out a sandwich bag which contained what appeared to be several grams of white powder...

Edited by Atehequa, 22 March 2015 - 06:51 PM.

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#9 Atehequa


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Posted 22 March 2015 - 06:54 PM

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Posted 18 April 2015 - 10:08 PM

4 - Smoked up and smacked down

"What do you have there?" I asked Bear while somewhat concerned that he would plop down what looked to be hard drugs upon the motel table right in front of people we really didn't know. Tapping my shoulder he motioned me over to by the bathroom door. "It's smack." he whispered.
"Excuse us for a minute or two." I told the others and then pulled Bear into the bathroom and shut the door. "Did I hear you right, smack?" Now I was really concerned realizing that it was laying out there on the table while we were in here.
"Bob owed me some money, and gave me a bit of smack yesterday instead." Bear informed me. I shook my head and said: "Nothing wrong with trading, but what compelled you to bring it up here in spite of current conditions? The best thing you can do is go out there, grab that shit and flush it down the toilet. If something were to happen and we have an encounter with the local fuzz, the weed, booze and under age drinkers in our company is bad enough, but getting caught with that much skag may not be worth the money Bob owed you. What else can you do with it? That's more smack than all of us can do in a few weekends."
"You're right." he agreed.

As we exited the bathroom, Mary who was holding up the bag looking at it asked: "So are we going to do some lines?"
"Oh you don't want to get into that shit." I replied.
"I've did coke before."
"So have we." Mack said, "But that ain't coke."
"Speed? rat poison, perhaps?"
"Smack." Bear returned.
"All that is heroin?"
"Some rather potent heroin." I replied while watching Bear start pacing back and forth in front of the long, low motel dresser. Halting he looked at both young ladies and asked: "Can I trust y'all."
"I don't see why not," Mary replied, "but before you say anything else let me tell you we've both smoke weed and used other drugs including heroin before. Now you've asked me if I can be trusted and I in turn will ask you the same. Can we trust you guys?" to which Mack replied: "I don't see why not."
"Trust us with what?" I inquired.
"Our safety, well being and what I'm about to tell you."
"What's that?"
"Sally here is the daughter of a well known attorney and I'm the daughter of Judge Winstead." Mack issued a nervous cackle and mumbled: "Oh shit, we're fucked."
"And why's that?" Mary demanded, adding: "Look if either of us were to get into any trouble, we would be disowned, but as long as we don't fuck up our dads pretty much let us do what we want. Neither one has a clue what we do. As far as they're concerned we're both daddy's little girl and we want to keep it that way. Now what do you have to say in trust, Bear?"
"My name is Ted."
"Now that isn't being honest, especially after I heard your crazy friend Mitch call two of you Bear and Mack during a not so careful instant back at the Cave. However if you want I can call you Ted and Richard, if you like." Looking at me she added: "I heard Mack refer to you as Skid, Ell." Overcome by such an honest approach, I told her my real name. "We thought it wise to use such alias while presenting fake IDs." Hearing that they both giggled, went into their bags and pulled out fake IDs. "So you were playing it safe. Can't hold that against you. So Bear, what were you going to say?" Glancing at Bear I asked him: "You want to tell her, or should?"
"Go ahead Skid."
"Why is he calling you Skid?"
"Because where we're from we call each other Skid. It's what those in other neighborhoods call us and it is what we call ourselves."
"What are you a gang or something?"
"Something." Mack nervously chuckled then added: "It's just a name like the North Hampton Captains and the Fox Hill Big Daddies. Don't you guys have neighborhood names up here?"
"Not really." Mary replied then insisted I go on. Both listened intently while I told them about our friend Bob finding a brief case of China white heroin not long ago and how it had killed him earlier today. "It's not only tainted by the death of our friend, but has also brought in a swarm of law enforcement right into the heart of our stomping grounds. We're up here trying to get away from all that and here's Bear with a bag of smack our friend gave him. Not cool so I've advised him to flush it down the commode."
"All that? What a waste, but I can dig where you're coming from. I'm sorry about your friend, but as you said, he knew it was potent and chose to do too much and in his vein to boot. We should at least do a little, but not in our arms. There's safer ways to do smack."
"How, snort it?" Mack asked rather eagerly."
"We could, but we could also mix it with tobacco or better yet, weed. It's a wasteful way to do it, but if you got a lot of smack, it's probably the best and want usually make a person sick. A good clean high." Mary stated as she lifted and eyed the bag again. "Can you spare about an eigth of an ounce of weed." to which Mack replied: "I can spring for half that amount if Skid here can go the other half."

As I gazed down into Mary's heavily lined blue eyes and her low cut black sweater, temptation shooed away my inhibitions. Accepting the joint, I ogled her black tight covered legs as she sat in that motel room chair. My eyes ascending back up to her face, they were rewarded with a batting of eyelashes and seductive smile. She had ground up the weed and mixed in a quantity of heroin with it. The rest of the smack was flushed down the toilet.

Standing beside me, Bear flicked his Zippo lighter. Taking a big toke, the weed tasted strange and I started coughing, but that soon subsided. Passing it back to Mary, she also coughed a bit and passed it to Bear. The fat joint went around the five of us six times and by the time it was dropped in the ashtray, a burnt brown roach, my body felt as light as sparrow down on an updraft. This was the second time I had used heroin. Unlike the first time, snorted up my nose, I didn't feel like vomiting. "How's your head?" Mary slightly slurred. "Hopefully still under my hat." I replied. Having a good look at the others it was evident they were extremely high as well.
"How about us trucking over to my room and join the party." Bear suggested. Although content here in this motel room, I agreed as did Mary, but Mack asked Sally if she would stay with him so they could get to know each other a little better. Sally informed him that they had all weekend, but for now she wanted to party. Slightly wobbling she rose to her feet and looked at Mary and me. "You ready?"
As we stepped outside Mary took my hand and told Sally, Bear and Mack: "Ell and I are going to take the long way around. See you all in a few." Experiencing a bit of a head rush from moving around she led me down to a small railed pier extending some ten feet or so out over the pond. More or less backing me against the rail, she gently stroked my cheek. "So you're one of those hoodlums from Hampton, huh?" Letting my eyes run wild from Mary's face down to her shapely legs, I asked: "So you're one of those well to do gals who live up here, eh?" Then I took Mary into my arms and we kissed.

Mary couldn't of been no older than me, but seemed much more hip and mature than the young ladies her age down in my old neighborhood. The way she kissed me betokened experience tinged with passion. As I ran my hand up under Mary's sweater, her breathing became heavy and she let out a long sigh. Moving my fingers under the bottom of her bra, she purred. Unexpectedly she pulled away and whispered: "Not here."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not ready for it yet and I'm not doing it on this pier. Don't want to get splinters. Dig?" Never one to disrespectfully press such issues during such intimate moments, I replied: "I can dig it." then asked if she was ready to join the others. Nodding her head, she leaned in a gave me a soft peck on my cheek and we were off.

Pounding out our secret knock, Bear opened the door and let us in while smiling and gesturing the smelly finger sign. Looking about the suite I saw Woo with a harmonica in his hand telling jokes to the others. "Hey Charlie, what's the difference between meat and fish?"
"What's that, Woo?"
"You can't beat your fish." At that Mary chuckled and said: "How charming." As everyone laughed a blank faced Connie seemed to had not gotten it right away. After everyone quited down she laughed. "Charlie can beat his meat, but can't beat his fish!" Woo tilted his head and said: "Mitch is rubbing off on you. Everything will be alright."
"And where is the king of naught?"
"He's up at the office getting a room."
"Well at least we're giving this place some off season business." I returned while noticing Flip ogling Mary. Sliding off his edge of the bed perch, he approached her with what I thought was a lame line. "Haven't we met before?" Having a good gander at the Birdman then turning to me she laughed and said: "Oh yeah. There's an unforgettable face, too bad I forgot your name." Somewhat surprised, I asked: "You two know each other?" As Mary walked around the Birdman as if inspecting him, he reminded her: "Remember me, I'm Flip, Mary." At that she shook her head, laughed and said: "Oh yeah, we smoked a joint, drank a bottle of wine and a few beers then you and your friend, what was his name, Whitey? In an empty stall down at James River Hunt Club you both tried to grope me then got into a drunken fight with each other to win my favor. I went to check on my horse and drove off leaving you two still rolling around on the ground. Such men of valor. Don't tell me that other maniac is in town as well."
"No he's down in Lynnhaven." Charlie informed her and proceeded in an attempt to cock block Flip from any of the women present. "Him and Whitey both are predatory maniacs. It's a wonder that neither one slipped something in your drink."
"Fuck you, Chucky! You asshole!" the Birdman hissed, adding: "I didn't grope you. I was trying to get Whitey's hands off of you. I kicked his ass for being disrespectful to a lady." Mack cast Flip a bloodshot glare and said: "A likely fucking story, Flippy." Seeing the empty bottle on the dresser, he growled: "You fuckers finished that half gallon of rum already? Damned alcoholics!"
"Charlie drank a lot of it, but is was Mitch, Woo, Rosie and Connie who finished off. Don't worry, Woo has a couple of cases of beer out in the van but no ice ice chest to cool them." The Birdman informed him. "Rather generous with my beer aren't you, Bird Boy?" Woo chuckled. "He was just as generous with my rum." I stated, adding: "We got a cooler over at our room. In fact why don't you and Flip give me a hand getting it and some ice. "I want to come too." Mary informed us. "Anyone else?" I asked. Charlie caught my drift, but Bear, Mack, and Sally said they were fine for now.

Once again back in my room, I asked: "You Skids up for some good smoke.?" I was pretty much sure Bear had not told Charlie that he had some of Bob's smack, so I played it off as we had some opium cured Thai weed, but after taking a toke Woo, a Vietnam vet knew better. "This is skag laced pot, I can taste it."
"And here I thought it was Thai weed." I said. Woo gave me an odd look, took another toke and passed it to Charlie. "Here Chucky, but if you start fucking up, I'll stick a boot in your skinny little ass."

"Damn Skid, now what were we suppose to be doing?" I asked Woo who was wringing the last hit off the roach. "I think we're suppose to be getting some ice for the beer, man." Then he gazed at a framed still life print of a wine bottle and basket of fruit. "It could use some bread and cheese." which prompted Charlie to ask if anyone had a magic marker. "I've a fine point marker." Mary said as she dug into her shoulder bag.

"I couldn't of did a better job myself, Chucky." Woo said as we looked at the little black ants Charlie had drawn on the fruit as well as crawling up the wine bottle. "Still life of a ruined picnic." Woo laughed and reminded us: "We're suppose to be getting ice for the beer and should be about our task before Mitch comes looking for us." Not to offend the spirits that watch over fools, gamblers, revelers and rounders, I took my half gallon bottle of vodka to share with the others.

"About damn time!" Mitch said as he opened up the door. "You better have a cold beer for me, General Woo."
"Here Mitch." I passed him the vodka. He unscrewed the lid and lifted the bottle as if to drink from it. "Hold on Otis, pour that in a cup! I don't like anyone drinking right out of my bottle. There's others who may want some vodka too." Although I expected to hear some crap from Mitch, he found himself a plastic courtesy cup and poured a few jiggers. "Not a problem." he returned, then called me outside. I kind of figured what this was going to be about. "Hey man, I want you to know I ain't got no hard feelings for you over any past beef."
"What do you want, Mitch?"
"I was wondering if you could help a Skid out with something for the head." It was then an idea flashed in my skull. I had seen how the heroin laced weed had somewhat sedated both Charlie and Woo. Figuring it would slow down Mitch a bit, I said: "Come on, man."

Sitting at the small motel table, I rolled a small joint of the laced weed. "What kind of joint is that? It looks like something that goon Flippy would twist up."
"Super duper good shit, Mitchy." That's for you to smoke, I'm already higher than a kite." Striking a match for him, he toked hard upon it. After another light and two more tokes, a weird twisted grin played upon Mitch's face. "Damn Skid, send out a fucking search party and find my ass! What is this, some of that Michoacan?"
"It might be from Thailand, but Woo seems to think it's laced with smack or something." After exhaling another big toke he said: "Fucking superb! Sure you don't want any of this?"
"Yeah, I'll take a hit, Mitch."
"So, what do you think about Connie, quite a dish, eh?"
"Oh yeah, she's something." I replied after having a toke then went on to tell him of our earlier encounter with her at the Ramada. "She took Mack and I to be boarish cads, so how the hell did you pick her up?"
"It's that old Mitch magic."
"And exactly what's that?" I inquired in knowing just how caddish and crude Mitch could be, especially while drinking and in the company of women. Dropping the roach into a small glass ashtray, he grinned and replied: "I just don't give a fuck if chicks reject me, but those I pull pretty much know what they want. I've been called a brute for being brutally honest as it eliminates unnecessary bullshit in my pursuit of a good date. That's not to say I don't strike out a lot, but when the right pitch comes across the plate, I'll hit a home run, Skid." Gulping down the rest of his vodka he suggested we get back to the party.

As we neared Bear's suite we met Mack on the walk. "Looking for us?" Mitch asked. By the snarl on his face Mack appeared to be troubled by something. "I'm going home."
"What the fuck for?" I laughed which seemed to anger him more. "Hardly a good night for me." then he suggested I either come with him or else catch a ride back to Hampton with somebody else. With that said he went to retrieve his belongings and split the scene. "Well drive safely, Mack." I had seen him in weird moods before so there was no need for me to suggest he reconsider. "What do you suppose got into him?" Mitch chuckled. Watching Mack turn the corner I replied: "Who knows? I hardly know who Mack is these days and he probably doesn't either. Throw booze and dope into the mix for enhancement."

Outside of Bear's suite on the patio Mitch and I got more of a full scoop of what occurred prompting Mack to depart in a huff. "Mack had to go." Bear informed us. "He got a bit too forward with that Sally chick who wasn't receptive and quickly told him to fuck off."
"Is she alright now?" I inquired. Bear lit up a cigarette, exhaled a stream of smoke and replied: "Oh she's fine, but I've noticed Charlie and Flip giving her the eye. They should behave, if not I'll jump time on them, like I almost had to do with Mack."
"Did he start acting up or something?" Bear took another drag off his smoke and said: Yeah after Sally told him to fuck off, Mack demanded that Rosie return to Lynnhaven with him. She too told him to fuck off which had Charlie and Flip laughing. Needless to say he gritted on them, pushing Flip into the wall then started calling Rosie a slut which had Woo ready to jump time on him as well. My pad, my party, nobody fucks up." Bumming a cigarette off Bear, I asked: "Did you try to reason with him?" to which Bear popped his huge knuckles and replied: "I did, but he copped an attitude with me. Got rather shitty for such a little fellow. He just got too fucked up, too fast, but not so much so as to take a swing at me. He did good by splitting." I could recall Mack saying he wan't having a good night. Like our last outing together down in Nags Head, he had intentions of meeting, greeting and heating up the passions of someone other than his two girlfriends back home. Having one of them show up here in the arms of a fellow who could put him on the floor and the temporary object of his affection, Sally not receptive was probably two too many setbacks more than what he cared to contend with. Recalling events from earlier in the night, I chuckled and stated: "It all started going really wrong when Mitch here told him he was getting a hand job from Connie underneath the table."

Just as we were about to go inside, Mary stepped outside, patted my rear and sat with legs crossed in an outdoor chair. Even out here on the dimly lit patio, she in her somber Beat Era/Cultural Revolutionary get up was extremely titillating. "I was wondering where you guys were."
"Just out taking in a little night air." I said while stepping behind Mary's chair and rubbing her shoulders. She tilted her head back, smiled up at me and asked: "Where's Mack?"
"Mack wasn't feeling good." Bear instead answered. "He decided to go home." As was still looking up at me, I nodded. "Yeah, he split."
"So you have that room all to yourself, huh?"
"I certainly hope not." to which Bear laughed. "I can send Charlie and Flip to bunk up with you."
"Fuck that."
"They're going to have to sleep somewhere tonight."
"That's your problem, Bear. You brought them up here." I returned. Mitch laughed and suggested: "Let those chuckle heads sleep in Woo's van. He's got a mattress in there." Leaning down, I whispered in Mary's ear. "What about you?" She turned her head and whispered back in my ear: "As long as I call my parents when they get at 6:00 tomorrow morning and let them know I'm alright."

Back inside Bear's suite the revelry continued in spite of Mack's melt down. Woo sat with Rosie on the love seat and the others were either sitting on the beds or else at the table. While Charlie was already attempting to make time with Sally, Flip loomed over Alice like a hawk. Connie, all but smashed, gulped vodka from a plastic cup. There wasn't a whole lot of vodka left so I poured a cup for Mary and myself. "Typical Friday night for you and your crew, huh? she asked while seating herself beside Sally. "I would say not as these fellows seem to be behaving themselves." At that she grabbed my hand, pulled me near "What about you, if I wanted well behaved I'd be sitting in the Ramada's lounge. Overhearing that, Mitch chuckled: "Not so well behaved in there after tonight, eh Connie?" Even extremely high, it was somewhat difficult to decide if I was mildly humored or slightly disgusted by Mitch, especially while in the company of women.

"Don't you guys have anything to smoke?" Miss Alice Pettingway inquired. "Not here." Charlie replied then looked over at me.

"We could go over to my room and burn a couple." I suggested, at which Flip asked: "Why not go get it?"
"Because I've been running back and forth to my room all night. The next time I go over there, I'm in for the night." I replied then cast a glance at Mary who was already looking at me...

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