I was looking back on my life
And all the things I've done to me
I'm still looking for the answers
I'm still searching for the key 1
The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me
It just wont leave me alone
I still find it all a mystery
Could it be a dream?
The road to nowhere leads to me 2
Through all the happiness and sorrow
I guess I'd do it all again
Live for today and not tomorrow
Its still the road that never ends 3
Ozzy Osbourne, Road to Nowhere 4
5
This is The Story of My Life
Chapter 5
So we robbed the beverage center. We found a place to store some of the beer and, after dressing the trunk of Phil’s sister’s car up like a meat freezer, took a large amount with us on a road trip. 6
We drove to Connecticut, having no idea what part or why. We just knew we needed to get out of the area for a while. The most exciting thing that happened on that trip was anytime someone missed the make of an oncoming car, it didn’t matter where we were or how drunk we were, we pulled over and, if you were wrong, you had to get out and do 20 pushups to a chorus of hoots and hollers. 7
When we arrived back home, the talk was about the beverage center being robbed, and it didn’t take much to figure out who had been missing for the last 48 hours. We took what beer we had left in the trunk up to the park and had a nice little party. 8
That night is when it went from fun to down right scary. It was about 12:30 AM
and we were loaded on beer, liquor and hits of acid. We had run out of beer and
Phil suggested we go get more from where they had stowed it away, so Mud, Chap,
Phil and I headed over to this guy's apartment. I didn’t know the guy, and I
had no idea where the beer had been kept, so I don’t have a name. All I knew
was his apartment was on 3rd Street on the 4th floor, only about a block from
the beverage center. 9
We piled out of Phil’s sister’s car, which now looked as if it had gone on an off road adventure.
Trash bags littered the floor and they were surrounded by the trash that never made it into the bags. Food wrappers, beer cans, shirts, you name it. We reached the building, walked into the hallway and went up the old creaky staircase that wound its way up to our destination. Helped along by the acid, everything seemed so much more important and intense. We had to get that beer! It was our mission now. Like four grim reapers we glided up the staircase until we reached the Holy Grail! Our beer was right behind the doorway standing in front of us. It was ours by right of the streets. We had the balls to take it. The acid was really doing its thing now and looking around in the dim lighted hallway, I’d swear my buddies eyes were glowing and
looked hungry for blood. We were wound up tight. We knocked once, twice and
then a third time, but no one came to the door. Standing there I could see Phil
starting to get agitated. Five, ten and then fifteen minutes went by when Phil
just snapped in his Vietnam kind of way. He threw his shoulder against the
door, drove it inward and he was inside the apartment. The three of us were
kind of stunned for a second and just stood there slack jawed until Phil turned
and waved us in. 10
“Let’s get our fucking beer and get the hell out of here!” Phil was mumbling, as
we entered into the kitchen from the doorway. There was a back door directly
across from the front entrance. From the doorway, if you made a sharp turn
right, you would enter the living room. On the other side to the left was another room, which I know now was the bedroom because this is where the dude came out of in just his underwear, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes yelling loudly, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOING IN MY HOUSE? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!" You could hear the slurring words distinctly. This fucking guy was here for two days drinking on our beer, but we didn’t care. We thought that was cool! But to get pissed when we came to get more? Well, that pissed Phil off. 11
The guy weighed around 160 pounds and was about 6 feet tall. He was skinny with
shaggy black hair and a scrubby beard and mustache. I don’t know if it was the
way he was advancing across the short living room or just Phil being Phil, but
he snapped. Some of these old apartments back then still had fire axes hanging
on the walls and this was one of them. Before anyone could move or know what he
was doing, Phil reached up and tore the axe, which was about two foot in length
with a solid thick wooden handle, off the wall. He stepped towards the guy and
swung for the fences with a backhand shot that caught the guy under his jaw and
sent him careening through the air to crumple in the corner of the living room.
His jaw was broken, shattered, just destroyed. He laid there in a heap
moaning incoherently while Phil swore looking down at the axe. He had hit the
guy with the back side of the tool, which was the flat edge. Apparently, he
meant to cut his head off. Spinning the axe around blade first he jumped on the
guy and reared back ready to sever his head from the limb. It was at that time
that Chap and I snapped out of our daze and jumped on Phil’s back, locking up
his arm and screaming into his ears to stop, calm down and to snap out of it.
Blood was everywhere. The guy was feebly trying to defend himself while crying,
mourning and talking incoherently because of the broken jaw. While Chap and I
were wrestling with Phil, Mud had now gone bye-bye himself. He had tipped over
a large wooden kitchen table against the back door and was pulling drawers out,
letting them slam onto the floor. He picked up the axe we had finally got Phil
to drop and proceeded to chop holes in the wall! Who knows why! After finally
managing to get Phil under control where he wasn’t trying to kill Chap and me
also, we took as many cases of beer each one of us could carry. We left the guy
huddled up in the corner, drooling blood and crying out jumbled unintelligent
words, and we started out and down the stairs. 12
Being idiots and so far gone on all the drugs we had been doing, we never even
gave a thought to the other tenants. So, upon rounding the corner on my way
down the stairs, struggling with three cases in my now numbing arms, suddenly a
flashlight was shoved in my face and I heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer
being cocked and then a gun was shoved inches from my face. 13
“Turn around and head right back up where you came from.” the officer holding
the gun said, in a very unfriendly tone. Meanwhile, Phil, who was coming up the
rear and wasn’t aware the cops were there, was starting to push us forward
saying over and over, “Come on! Fucking move!" I started to push back, not
wanting to get shot. I yelled to everyone to go back up, that the police are
here with a gun in my face. After a few minutes, everyone got the drift and we
started back up the stairs. 14
I began to pick up the pace. I thought maybe I could get up in the apartment
and out the back door before the cop knew what I was up to, but I forgot Mud had
blocked the back way on his destructive rampage. 15
“Shit, man, we are screwed.” Chap whispered to me. The officer glanced around
the room and then spotted the huddled mass of beaten flesh lying there in the
corner moaning in his own blood. He made us all sit down then he got on his
walkie-talkie to call for an ambulance. He looked at us and then he walked up
to me and…WHAM! He smacked me across the top of my head. 16
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh, Richie? You got any fucking sense?” and
he hit me again. 17
“Come on, Bobby, what the fuck? He was like that when we got here. The door
was already busted in so we figured we would take the beer we heard he had and
get the fuck out of here.” I said, knowing he wasn’t going to buy it, but what
the hell. 18
The officer's name was Bob. I won’t give his last name. He grew up with my
sisters. In fact, his sister was my youngest sister's best friend. His family
grew up on the same block. I remember whenever there was a really good robbery,
like a jewelry store, he would always be the first one on the scene and would
cop some watches and rings and add them to the stolen records list. Then he
would stop at our house and give my dad a new watch and my mom would get rings
and necklaces. 19
“Yeah, ok.” he answered, and then, “This will kill your fucking parents." He
stood there with his hands on his hips, giving something some serious thought,
and then said, “Ok you, you and you.” pointing at Mud, Chap and me. “Get the
fuck out of here. Move that shit blocking the door and go out the back. My
partner is in front at the car.” We didn’t move at first. We weren’t sure we
heard him right until he shouted “MOVE!” and that galvanized us into action as
we started to cut and run. As we were leaving, I turned back and started to ask
him a question when he cut me off. “You ask to take any of that beer and I’ll
change my mind about letting you go. Now get the fuck out of here.” I promptly
turned and followed my buddies out as we heard him saying to Phil, “I got to
take you in, Phil, so come on up and face the wall with your hands behind you.” 20
When reached the bottom of the stairs we hurried out into the ally and down to
the end of the block. Peaking around the corner, we watched them take Phil out
of the building handcuffed as they put him in the police car. When the
ambulance arrived both cops went in with the paramedics to give them a hand.
That’s when we approached the cop car and I opened the door telling Phil to come
on, but he shook his head no. He figured he would get six months for this, be
out in four, and spend the time in jail as trustee anyway. Phil should have had
his own key to the county jail he spent so much time there since he came back
from Vietnam, so we reluctantly closed the door and made ourselves scarce. 21
We didn’t see Phil for four months, but heard he was running his cell block and
also had the run of the jail as a trustee. We, of course, went on with our
lives. People came in and went out of our lives so often, but we never missed a
beat. Jail was as familiar to us as most kids' backyards were to them.
Everyone I knew did some kind of time whether it was in a home, prison or county
jail. Everyone had scars. 22
The next day I decided to head up to see Mary Ellen, so I picked up Paul and
Jackie and we hiked it up to Lincoln Avenue and into the Heights. Paul and
Jackie headed over to Jackie’s grandmother's apartment in the complex, while I
made my way down Madison to Mary’s house. She was lying on her stomach in a two
piece bathing suit on the front lawn in a lounge chair sunning herself. I just
stood there for a couple of seconds admiring the view and then walked over and
sat in the chair next to her. 23
“Sorry about the other night.” I said, referring to when I didn’t show up. She
jumped a little at the sound of my voice. 24
“Jesus, how long have you been sitting there?” she asked. I told her I just got
there and that I made a special trip to her house just to give her brush back.
She made a frowning face and asked, “Oh yeah? That’s the only reason you came
all the way up here?” 25
“That’s me. I’m that thoughtful.” I answered. She laughed and turned on her
side to face me. 26
“Welllllllll?" she asked. 27
“What?” 28
“Give me my brush.” she said laughing. 29
“Oooooh, I don’t actually have it on me right now.” I said to her smiling. She
just chuckled then asked if I wanted something to drink. I, of course, accepted
and she went to get me a drink. I watched her every step of the way admiring
her slow easy gate. She soon returned with some ice tea that she had spiked
with some Jim Beam from her parent's liquor cabinet. She had been drinking them
all afternoon and was starting to get a little tipsy. We sat there most of the
day talking and getting to know each other until Paul and Jackie came by to pick
me up. Mary asked if I’d be around that night and, if so, to bring her brush.
I told her I didn’t think so because there was a keg party on Prof’s Hill and we
were the tap suppliers. Mary quickly informed me she had heard about the party
and was thinking about going, so I asked if she wanted me to pick her up and we
could go together. She said, "Yeah, ok." and the date was set. 30
The three of us, Paul, Jackie and I, started home. I had to listen to those
guys bust my chops about Mary Ellen all the way. We didn’t get far when one of
our buddies who had been looking for us came cruising down the street in his big
Freihofer's van he had painted blue. He pulled up along side of us and we
hopped in. Dave told us he was looking for us because a bunch of the gang was
heading to Mary’s Hole to go swimming. Cool, we're in! And off we went. 31
To be continued… 32
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Cool
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Intense!
This is a very hard story to read knowing it is not fiction. So intense and so early in your life. It's a wonder you survived!
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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WOW!!!
Wow oh WOW! I’ve only heard stories like this in the movies! I bet you have some mushy parts to tell about that Mary. Come on, tell us, tell us. You can’t have all blood and guts and leave out the juicy stuff!
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Now do i sound like someone who kisses and tells. lol
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Aw!
Good action, pretty wild stuff.
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