Friday, October 14, 2005

Who shot ya?(Or almost..)

A few weeks ago I saw a movie starring Viggo Mortenson entitled "History of Violence", where a small town man had successfully hid from his wife and kids the fact that 20 years prior he was not only part of the mob but also a stone cold killer, until his past came back to bite him in the ass. I could really relate to the main character, minus the part about killing hundreds of men and the mob ties. I mean, when I regurgitate these stories of violence and near death occurrences on this blog I do so for cathartic reasons, but also because I feel that I might want to keep my ultra violent past hidden from any offspring that I might have, so I might as well tell somebody before I try to erase certain things from my memory.

I would like to be a different man to my kids because the death of my friend really put my mortality in the proper perspective. Sitting in that church amongst 200 of Buddy's family and closet friends, all I thought about was the closed casket, how many scrapes Buddy and I got in the middle of, wondering if I would have died with him that fateful night if I would have went out with him, and how many times I should have met my maker based on my reckless actions. Here are a few occasions where I gambled with the barrel of a handgun, and because I haven't been a baby for 31 years, I guess I am the "fool" that god also looks after.(Even though I feel that my 9 lives "charge card" is maxed the fuck out) Granted, I could have easily named this posts "Times where my black ass almost got shot", but I felt you couldn't go wrong with a Biggie reference.

Just Shoot Me: I have said this before, but the time surrounding my fathers death was horrible for me. Not only did I have to balance the death of a parent, but I was also juggling my mother's breast cancer and I had just got dropped like a bad habit by a woman that I had planned to marry. It wouldn't be an understatement if I said that I wanted to die, and definitely had serious thoughts of helping the grim reaper come decades sooner than he was supposed to. I'm not vain at all, but I try to make myself look presentable whenever I go out, but at that time I didn't care and looked like a ghetto version of Grizzly Adams. Danny knew I was on the brink of death, so he did what any friend would do when he sees that his friend is grasping on to his last breaths, he takes me out and gets me shitfaced drunk.

I don't know how drunk we had gotten, but lets just say that we were buying bottles of tequila and passing it back and forth the same way teenagers pass around a 40 oz of beer. I kept telling Danny, "I love you dear friend, this might be the last time you see me alive." Looking back, I'm glad that I didn't kill myself because that motherfucker ignored my "cries for help" by saying, "Your bitch ass isn't going to kill yourself, just keep drinking fucko!"(I hear the sweet sounds of Dionne Warwick singing, "That's what friends are for!!") While we are drinking our lives away, we get into it with these five dudes who's goal it was to start shit, even flashing us their pistols like they were trying to be the "Doughboy" character in "Boyz in the Hood" and shit. Danny grabs me because for one thing they have guns, and he knows that Tequila + HumanityCritic = 1 black bastard who doesn't give a shit about a dude with a gun. I walk with Danny about 3 blocks and make up a lie that I am going to walk to a girls house that I am going to get to know "biblicly" and we part ways, with Danny looking back multiple times to see where I was really going.

Me, being drunk and somewhat suicidal, I turn back around and go back to the club where me and Danny had just came from. I walk in, see one of the guys who was talking shit and try to detach his jaw from his entire face. The others jump on me and we somehow make it outside, where I am taking a pounding but also hitting dudes in the process. They get off me and I am on the ground, one of the guys walks towards me and pulls his gun out and puts it to his side. I see this, spring to my knees and say, crying because my life was shit, "Please kill me, come on, pull the trigger!" The weird fact I remember is bowing my head and seeing that he had Shell-Toe Adidas and thinking to myself "At least I'll die looking at my favorite sneaker". There was a long pause and I continued, "Come on you pussy, is that a gun or does your punk ass use that as a motherfucker belt buckle? Do it!!" The next thing I hear is Danny, running down the street and screaming "Hey, Hey, Hey!!" in desperation. At this time people from the club are gathering outside the club and the gentleman in question, along with his crew, take off into the bright lights of Norfolk Virginia. I stayed on my knees, on a ground still somewhat wet from a previous rain storm, seeing Danny stare at me with a look of pity mixed with disgust as he walked me to his apartment at the time. I haven't thought about that night much until recently, and that is an example of a story that I want to keep from my children.

Tear the club up: On a lighter note, I know that I have talked a great deal about strip clubs, well this is yet another strip club story. I used to go to a lap-dance joint called "The Flame" religiously. I don't mean a few times a week, I'm talking about every night of the week because I was addicted to naked women dry humping me the same way a girl named Nikki dry humped me when I was 12 years old. I was loved and hated at that particular establishment, loved because I was a steady source of cash flow to most of the dancers, and hated because whenever I got a lap-dance I would pick a long ass Isaac Hayes song on the jukebox that lasted for like 15 minutes and shit. Anyway, between lap-dances I would sit in front of a bar that was positioned right in front of a tinted glass window that you could see the parking lot from. On one night, I think I had gotten arrested for a fight, or maybe I actually found a woman that I didn't have to pay for, but I skipped a night of having a sweaty, glittery woman climb all over me. Lucky for me, because apparently a gentleman that had a particular beef with the club, went there that night and started blasting his 9mm, multiple times, through that glass window that I usually sit in front of. Actually, it was the same spot that I usually sat at while awaiting a dance from some random woman, probably named "Lexis" or Candy", I could have really been shot the fuck up that night. When I went back there the strippers knew that I could have easily been killed, so for a while I was treated like Norm from "Cheers" in that motherfucker. You know that song "Last night a DJ saved my life"? Well, that night, "A pair of tits almost ended my life".

25 comments:

Amadeo said...

I can see why you might want to keep that from your kids, but I also think that's some good ammo for one of those debates where they wanna say something like,"you don't understand" or some other dumb teenage crap.

SP said...

Amadeo is right. When your kids get to be older, those are stories you can share with them. I wouldn't say teenagers, though. Maybe when they are adults.

glory said...

i'm grown, and there's still stuff i'm learning about my parents that i'm glad i didn't know when i was a kid.

tempting death, huh? good one. let's not do that again, okay?

CaffeineDiva said...

ok... you have been thinking a great deal about the things you will/won't do or tell your children lately. Inquiring minds want to know... are you pregnant? :) Just kidding... good post as usual fuck face.
much love for you always

CaffeineDiva said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Crackpot Press said...

A pair of breasts is always an express ticket to an early demise.

Amazing how those places get addicting when you are down on your luck.

chele said...

Good post. I'm always cautious about telling my kids stuff like this. They may learn from it or they could come back and say, "Well, you did it and you turned out fine!"

Anonymous said...

Funny, this post gave me the urge to embrace you and smack the snot out you at the same time!
Glad you pulled it back together HC!

piranha said...

oh my god you had me laughing with the shell-toe adidas shoes....
it s these little rediculous things that make life funny.....
yeah, i think at some age kids don't need to know nothing. for example, my sister complained yesterday in front of her little five year old that she is sexually frustrated and that her hubby doesn't fix her often enough. i don't think a little kid should witness that kind of argument between his parents. gosh!
but when they grow up you can slowly open up and let them know that you ve been there done that and maybe they are intelligent (what i suppose with such a daddy lol) they figure they don't have to do all the things their daddy went through just to know how it is like. i mean, i don't need to take lsd just because my dad tried it out when he was a hippie! i was surprised though, to hear he did ;-))

P. Alonzo Harris Jr. said...

hey there...nice blog...

i enjoyed your post thoroughly...its nice to find folks who can come on here and be open and honest about who they were, are, and trying to become....

be well....

mai said...

!!!

i don't know you that well (translated: not at all, really), and even i would mourn the loss of you.

the lack of brothas like you (translated: honest, open, and willing to admit his faults) is enough, really, so having one less = not good.

Nova said...

It's a damn good thing you weren't getting a lapdance that night. This country needs all the decent brothas it can get.

friday said...

thanks for stopping by my blog...i don't get enough random viewers that respond so many thanks...i am really enjoying reading your posts...sounds like you have a lot figured out and quite a life history to boot...good luck with your neighborhood...sometimes i find myself referring to kids as "those punks" too and i jerk my head around and hear myself say outloud "dad?! oh geez, i am becoming my dad!"...i guess those things just happen...no one will ever be as cool as we once were...we will always be right in our minds...and is it bad that i kinda chuckled at the line "at least i will die looking at my favorite sneakers?" i hope not, because that line is classic.

Joanne said...

H.C., you've lived quite a life; I'm glad you're here to tell the tale so vividly and openly here. Thanks for stopping by my spot -j

elvira black said...

Ah, the irony...begging to be put out of your misery can SO take the fun out of it for your would-be assasins...

My b/f's dad had PTSD from WWII and unfortunately liked to put his little son on his knee and show him pix of the camps he liberated and other horrors. Too bad he didn't go see a therapist instead of doing this to his kid. It's as bad, if not worse, than feeding your kid porno.

Fat Dandy said...

Found the page through your inSINcere post - that you have me smiling, shaking my head, & nodding in turn frankly disturbs me - like your work mon ami ;)

Reddy said...

Woah.. yeah you're had your share of scrapes there buddy..

I loved a history of violence. It was amazing to watch him transform from being a quiet family man to a cold blooded gangster at the drop of a hat, his son had alot of that fire in him too. Gotta love it.

imagine said...

You're the reason I like to read blogs. I know people who are all like, "blogs are for who just like to brag about their life." Then I read a post like this and think that those people are missing out on the real events that make one's life.

Deonna said...

Imagine is completely correct. Rather than simply swinging the bollocks, you actually give the reader insight into your thoughts and your life. Bravo! If I weren't married ...

Rizoh said...

ha, nice one buddy. The strip clubs down here are almost secluded so it'd be a deadzone if someone walked in busting a cap

David said...

HC, I'm glad you didn't get shot, I enjoy reading your posts! Its been quite a while since I had a lap dance. Maybe I should get reacquainted with that pleasure! :)

Pharell said...

Hello there, Humanity "tip-toe" Critic! Have you ever had a GIRL best friend?

Quel said...

Your strip club story ia a trip..."Norm from Cheers"...too funny.

Justice said...

Peace HC,
I say school your kids on what you have been through. I saying you gotta tell them every gorey(never spelled this word) detail, no child likes to realize they are being lied to. I lost load of respect for elders I knew coming up because I knew they was lying asses, just keep it relevant, and keep writing.

Peace

Brother OMi said...

our children from when they are born until their early teens, actually 12, have this omnipotent view of their parents. When they become teenagers they realize their parents are human beings. many are devastated to learn this and quite a few never respect their parents again.

the best way to alleviate them is to let your children know WHO you are.. .don't hide nothing.