Charlie........... part 2

If you havent read part one read it now

The story Charlie fed me was at least 50 percent bullshit. I knew that from the git go, dope fiends, especially coke heads will lie when the truth would work better. So when Charlie lamented that he had been burned by a guy in a deal, I knew it probably meant that Charlie had gone on a binge with someone else's stuff and money. Knowing that he was being less than truthful about how he got in this mess, didn't mean I wasn't believing the part of the story about him being in big trouble. I knew he was in trouble, I could hear it in his voice. So I did what you were supposed to do for a life long friend. I agreed to help, in a limited capacity.

I am sure there are worse things than driving the better part of two days with a coke fiend. I doubt there are many things more annoying. Charlie wouldn't or couldn't, shut up. At some point during the drive I managed to block out his bad breath and babbling. We made it to Oildale. Before I get in to Charlies scheme, I have got to spend a little time on Charlies people in Oildale. Truth really is stranger than fiction, trust me, I'm not making this shit up.

Charlies sister owned a house in one of Oildales' many rundown subdivision. Best I could tell, all of Oildale was run down. Sometime in the early 1980's she stepped out in front of a delivery truck, drunk as Cooter Brown. The truck drug her about a half block. While it didn't kill her, being drug under a box truck for that distance didn't do her any favors. She lost about 3/4 of her scalp, and the hair attached to it. She got a pretty fat settlement, the proceeds of which purchased the house she was living in, humongous breast implants , and a collection of wigs, cheap wigs, that always seemed to sit a little off kilter on her scuffed up melon.

The first thing I noticed upon pulling in to the driveway, was a private security company car sitting across from her house. Charlie informed me that the home owners association hired the security company to harass his family. Translation, they were there to take notes and share them with the local police. When Charlies sister got her settle she bought her house, she also bought Charlie, another brother and her Father new Harleys. Charlie took his bike back to KC, sold it and snorted the proceeds. She also wanted her mother to live close by. Houses aren't cheap, but 5th wheel campers are, at least in comparison to a house. In the backyard were two well worn 5th wheel campers. Charlies parents lived in one, while the other was used as a guest house.

The first thing we did was walk around back to his moms place. I hadn't seen Charlies mother in at least 10 years. My memory of her was that she was a big woman, easily tipping the scales at 300. The woman who opened the screen door of the 5th wheel was reed thin, a buck O five tops. Charlies mom had lost about 2/3 of her former self. While she had undergone a dramatic change physically, her demeanor was the same. Most mothers would greet their child with a hug, glad to see them after a long absence. Charlies mother took one look at him, rolled her eyes, unlatched the door, and walked away. Her name was Betty. She was a first class twunt, and treated her son much the same as I imagine a lioness treats one of her cubs, right before she eats it. I never liked the fat Betty, and the new skinny Betty was just as unlikeable, there was just a lot less of her to dislike.

Now would be a good time to mention that this all took place in the middle of summer. I honestly cant recall the exact month. I just remember it being hot when we left Kansas City, and really fucking hot when we got to Oildale. The inside of the hillbilly bungalow on wheels was neat as a pin. Charlies dad was watching soap operas at one end of the trailer, he looked up long enough to say Hey, then went back to the TV. As neat as the trailer was, I couldn't help but notice the smell. The place smelled like cat piss. Betty had taken a seat at a small table that was connected to the trailer wall, it looked like it probably folded down for storage. She had a big Tupperware bowl in front of her. She had a slightly yellow powder on her hands, the table had some on it as well. When Betty informed her child that she wasn't "turnin him loose with no dope", things became crystal clear to me. The major weight loss, the cat piss smell, the big Tupperware bowl. I told Betty it was nice to see her, and asked Charlie to come outside to get his things out of my car.

After Charlie retrieved his crap from my car, I left for Bakersfield, took care of my business, and checked in to a motel. I was to return the next afternoon, for what I thought would be my last dealings with Charlie and his fucked up family.

Only the most naive of readers have yet to figure out that Charlies trip to Oildale involved drugs. The problems with the drug business are unending. Moral issues aside, it's just a bad way to make money. The people at the top of the Drug Food Chain are ruthless, they are also rich. As in all big business there is a trickle down theory in the food chain. The guy in the middle makes a lot less money, but it's still a considerable amount. The people Charlie owed fell somewhere in the middle, Charlie was a bottom feeder. I stayed out of the drug trade for a multitude of reasons. I wont bullshit you, my reasons weren't of a moral nature, they were of a self preservation nature. In the drug business there is always someone willing to rob and or kill you for your stuff. There is always someone more than willing to tell on you if they get caught. It's a losing proposition.

In the movie Body Heat, there is a scene that takes place between William Hurt, the lawyer, /arsonist, and a young Mickey Rourke who plays a professional arsonist. Hurt is getting tips from Rourke on how to burn down a building. Mickey says to the lawyer, " Anytime you commit a crime , there are at least 100 things that can go wrong. If you can think of 50 of them, you are a genius, and you ain't no genius". By now we all know that Charlie was far removed from being a genius, just short of needing to wear a football helmet and weaving brooms for a living. Being involved with this guy, made me almost as stupid as he was. What you need to understand is how I came up. I have had maybe 3 close friends in my life, Charlie was one of them. I really believed that you stuck it out, you didn't leave your friends flapping in the wind when they were in trouble. Laying in that shitty Bakersfield motel room, I knew just as surely that this would be my last time to bail Charlie out of a mess....................

To be continued