Well here we go with another round of Crazy War Stories, yes, here they are those crazy yet funny stories that are unfortunately true…thank the DEA www.dea.gov for immunity.
First of all I am a white guy, actually I am as white as white bread of a guy as you can get. However, being a really great actor and more importantly con man or better yet a real dope fiend, I am blessed with manipulative powers beyond the scope of human understanding. They are the sort of powers that only the greatest men of the world are instilled with such as the former President Bill Clinton , Billionaire Donald Trump http://www.trump.com/main.htm , and yes Ezzel the Crackhead. In my case though I was in the same classification as Ezzel but I could have been the Bill Clinton or Donald Trump if I had only set my mind to it.
You’ve already read my crazy story’s about hanging in Compton, California http://www.comptoncity.org/ , murder and gang capitol of the world in search of a high that I could never obtain no matter how much I tried.
While hanging out at the Happy Fish Market my original connect Black took me over to my first dealer named simply “T” . T was about 54 years old lived with his mom behind Bunny’s Liquor off the corner of Alondra and Willowbrook Ave. He had old prison tattoo’s, a silver tipped afro just like Don King http://www.donking.com/ , and had a raspy voice that was very distinct. By the way not only did he live with his momma he also lived out in her garage all day long. T was a man who sold black tar heroin by the bag $5 was all he asked for a bag and through Black I became his best customer. I bought 15-20 bags a day and would always be there first thing by 8 in the morning off of Willowbrook Ave in the CPT to meet him like clockwork. This went on for months.
One day T didn’t meet me and his connect the main dude was arrest by LA County Sherriffs the night before and instantly my boy T was out of business. It was very hot at the end of June of 2005 in Southern California and the murder rate was at it’s peak that summer in Compton. Instantly he went from selling premium solid sleepy eyed black tar go ahead and nod out heroin to some other melted cut up bad excuse for truly bunk product.
One day months earlier I met a guy named Bobby. Bobby was a dapper mild mannered double dope fiend because like so many he dually battled addiction to heroin and crack. Bobby looked exactly like Superfly just like the Curtis Mayfield movie. Long black hair, skinny, slim, and dressed to perfection. He basically lived on the streets, except he stayed in a hotel room in Compton down on Long Beach Blvd. This was a very shady area.
Bobby and I became very friendly. So friendly that when I moved out of my safe, nice, and beautiful house in Los Feliz in Hollywood to the hotel room in Compton with Bobby. Now here is the best part of the story.
Upon my sudden move to Compton to a hotel room I was faced with a dilemma or an unpleasant decision that I was on the streets more importantly on the streets as a white boy in Compton. So what did I do I told everybody that Bobby aka Superfly and I were brothers. When asked about how he is black and I was white we would nonchalantly say that we really don’t know but we had the same mother? Who would have guessed that everybody bought it. If I ever needed Bobby I went up to any fiend or aspiring fiend in Compton and said where’s Bobby? When they said they didn’t know. I looked them in the eye dead serious and said, ” Look, he’s my brother and I need to find him, now!” It always worked and they always believed it.
Was I a good con man? The answer is yes but eventually nothing worked for me. All the lies caught up and it appeared that I was eventually alone. Alone with myself and the Creator. I thought I was alone but I wasn’t, because God was right there with me every step of the way and saved me from the miserable existence I write about in this blog to become a productive member of society, a good son to my parents, and most importantly someone very capable of carrying the message of Alcoholics Anonymous www.aa.org to those in need. So as we say in A, if you don’t get help here please get help somewhere.
A 12 Step Recovery Guide 