Pilot for “Bourbon Life”….small kine scene

Pilot EP Scene 4

Scene opens in a pristine import auto showroom, Chuck Knudsen (pronounced Kuh-Nude-son) is sitting with Q the finance manager. Chuck is the owner and he is one of those guys who was 6 foot tall and weighed 200 lbs in the fifth grade and whipped everyone’s Caucasian ass, then he just grew man boobs and got chubby, he has that baby boy face and giant paws.

Chuck: I know you think I don’t know what’s going on around here, but I got news for you B, I do.

Q: It’s Q sir…

Chuck: What is?

Q: My name sir, it’s Q.

Chuck: I know that

Q: You just called me B

Chuck: Right…ok, so are these the final numbers for the month?

Q: I don’t know what that is; it looks like a stack of blank paper, wait…It is a stack of blank paper!

Chuck: I know that

Q: So…why did you ask me if-

Chuck: Listen B…

Q: Its Q

Chuck: I know that…Q you are really going to have to adjust your attitude, if you want to continue working here!

Q: Attitude sir?

Chuck: Yes your attitude, it’s all about attitude Q…So as I was saying, are these the final numbers?

Q: (Smiling) Yes, if you think they are sir

Chuck: Stop calling me sir, this ain’t the Navy! And you know what else? These aren’t the final numbers (sifting thru a stack of blank papers) what the hell are trying to pull over here? The wool over my eyes? Huh?

Q: Excuse me sir?

Chuck: GODAMMIT B! Stop calling me sir and where are the final numbers?

Q: If you stop calling me B, I promise not to call you sir and…(smiling) there are no final numbers because it’s the 15th of the month.

Chuck: (cracks a big smile) Well done Q! You see…it’s all about attitude.

Q: Thank you Chuck, you are a born leader

Chuck: (Smiling) Oh stop it you’re embarrassing me now B…So… let’s get together on those numbers after lunch, I’m getting so damn hungry. I’m gonna get some hamburger lunch, what do you think?

Q: Great idea!

Chuck: Listen B..I mean Q…I know I’m hard on you, but I run a tight ship over here and I know more than you think I know.

Q:OK sir

Chuck: So you will have the numbers after lunch? No more screw-ups Q…

Q: Sure Chuck, no problem…(Q walks back to his office) I hate my life.

Sex hole 7- This was a tough week Charlie Brown

SEX HOLE PART 7: “This was a tough week Charlie Brown”
Monday: “Woke up quick at about noon just thought that I had to be in Compton soon”

Well not really…. woke up around 730am, checked to make sure our kids didn’t get kidnapped while I was dreaming of fishing for Toro so I could trade the tasty fish with my friend Rakim for his Detective Comics #27. In the dream I had my hands on the comic book that introduced Batman to the world. Later in the dream I was on stage with Rakim aka “The R”, “The God Emcee”, I was playing bass whilst he was performing “Follow the Leader”. In the middle of the performance my grandmother showed up, walked on stage and started to yell at me about smoking pakalolo then she turned into my grade school teacher Mrs. Bersano and started doing windmills. After the show was over she gave me a “D” in handwriting and informed me that I had Herpes. I walked back to my cave with Oprah who was running from the law and needed a place to crash.

Just as I was feeding “Ops” her fourth key lime pie she bit my finger and I woke up. Dreams are so strange, aren’t they chickens?

 

After I woke up I did my normal paranoid walk to the bed, my brain racing terrible thoughts (too terrible to repeat, just think death and ultimate loss) through my head and I checked in on our children.

 

Bottom bunk contained the oldest one frocked, rugged and draped in stuffed animals, baby blankets and hair. She was breathing, “good sign”, I thought. Kids are so lovely whilst they are sleeping; the eyelashes and the soft faces melt your heart but if you get too close the breath will peel your skin. “Ok first daughter is alive,” I murmured. I climbed to the top of the deep chocolate brown bed bunk ladder and peered over the edge…no curly haired mini-me!!

 

I felt my head beginning to sweat; my hands and back were beading up as well. I walked quickly into the living room where Miilani (the little one) was sitting up on the tan couch holding a DVD of The Marx Bros. major motion picture “Horse Feathers”. Cinematically speaking my Miilani and I are very close with one another; I have mentioned her complete lack of taste in some of the animated movies she has chosen to enter into her little data bank. We have agreed to disagree.

 

 

She loves the Marx Bros. especially Harpo as they share the same “copete” or “hairdo” in English. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t get all the one-liners from Groucho and Chico but Harpo being mute has her holding her little white stomach laughing at his slapstick styleee.

 

She looked a little sad (for effect I’m sure) and asked me if we could watch the movie. It was 745am and the house was beginning to stir a bit, however it was a holiday so no school and no work. I smiled and put the DVD into the player and we had some laughs. During the movie the theme song “Everyone says I love you” is played and sung by all the Marx brothers respectfully.

 

Our favorite version is when Chico sings:

“Everyone says I love you

The great big mosquito when-a he sting you

The fly when he gets stuck on the flypaper too

Says I love you”

 

Everyone does say, “I love you”, what a trip.

 

So Mini-me and I had a bunch of good laughs before the familia woke up. After breakfast we both fell asleep.

Personal Note: Need to stop thinking so much it brings more pain than joy.

 

Tuesday: Got a call that I am to attend a “Father-Daughter” dance this week. I was worried as I have never been a daughter and have only been a father for a handful of years. Rewrote a few poems while I played some Donny Hathaway on the stereo. I felt better and resigned to the fact that the since kids were so young the event was in the gymnasium with a DJ named DJ Dax all would be kosher.

Wednesday: I had breakfast with myself, a bowl of oatmeal and Cannery Row by Mr. John Steinbeck. I do believe he is the king of written scenery and a huge humorist. The book, in my humble opinion, is one of the first simply written masterpieces ever. His use of simple language to describe the valley and the ocean’s tide pools are inimitable and impeccable.

 

Wednesday (Lunch time): I have to open the car door with the key from the passenger side when I get in or else the car alarm goes off. I think I got this unsolicited gift of inconvenience when I had my door/window lock assembly changed a few days earlier. I must confess that after 5 years of the same routine the alarm has honked more than requested. I haven’t cursed so much since the 90s.

 

So I open the Honda door on the “right” side and hop in, turn on the engine and the Ipod is blaring NAS from the prior night’s drive time. I lowered the Nasty Nas and left for lunch at the mall. I brought my 5-foot ruler to check the play spot near Target. I parked and strolled into the play area and measured a few suspiciously long kids who were sliding and landing on one another. Everyone was in compliance under the rule of 48 inches and under rule so I headed north bound to the Mall’s Food Palace. I wondered how many different names have been scripted into mall eateries.

 

• Food court (definitely the most used)

• Mall Bistro

• The Eatery

• The Palm Court

• The Palm Court Food Court

• The Market Place

• The Market Place Court

• The Stanford Shopping Center Courtyard

• The Courtyard

• And so on…

 

All these food courts have a Panda Express, which I am, strangely enough, a proponent. The Corporation pays its employees 2-3 dollars more per hour than it’s Fast Food counterparts. Panda Express is owned by Chinese people, which pleases me very much yet I will not indulge in their greasy foodstuffs.

 

The name puzzles me though as there is nothing in a Panda that implies “express”. Panda bears are very slow, they move about 6mph at their fastest pace. 99 percent of a Panda’s diet is bamboo shoots, which I can assure you are not tasty. Pandas have been known to defecate up to 40 times per day, which does NOT make me want to belly up to the P.E. with my tray. Pandas; slow, cute, chubby bears who eat bamboo shoots and crap every 15 minutes, maybe they should have thought about that before they started their company. (Please understand sweet readers I am not “player-hating” on Panda Express I want us all to get money baby…these are only observations and modest opinions)

 

The Food Court is the melting pot of the mall. They are all there: the moms and the grandmothers, the nannies and the caretakers.

The babies, toddlers and youngsters are all at the mall food court waiting to send their collective “Yawp” up to the heavens.

 

I bought my lunch from this Korean lady tending an Ichi-ban noodles spot also know as the Japanese Bistro. I don’t know why but I have this strange form of bigotry when it comes to the proprietors of Asian/Polynesian eateries. I will not tolerate Koreans running Hawaiian restaurants, Chinese running Japanese sushi spots, I want to eat Chinese food with the Chinese, Hawaiian food with the Kanakas and so on. This ideology never plays out and never will. Almost every restaurant in every major metropolis in this fine country (hahahaha) has a crew of Mexicans cooking in the kitchen; it’s unavoidable and doesn’t seem to bother me at all which is quite hypocritical of me.

 

Anywaaaaays the lunch was passable but not impressive. I told the Korean woman who served me that she would be better suited at the liquor store with her kinfolk. She smiled and said “Thank you sir”, I confessed my bigotry in the simplest terms possible but it only confused her. She came out from behind the counter smiling with a plate of teriyaki chicken pieces with toothpicks and I walked back to Target.

 

I stopped once again to measure a large Samoan boy who found his way to the plastic playground in the mall, he was over 5 foot tall and staunch. I informed his father, who was an impressive man indeed, that his son was too big to play in this particular playground as the husky boy might injure some poor unsuspecting toddler.

He stared at me for some time, yelled something in his native tongue to his child and the boy came out of the playground and sat next to his father.

The boy was crying and the father looked up at me angrily and said, “ You happy now bruh?”

I informed him of the importance of safety in the playground and thanks to yours truly there has not been an accident in the confines of said playground for over 100 days.

My words, as usual, fell upon deaf ears and the father lifted me up off the ground with one of his enormous paws and I began to pen my last will and testament in my head. The entirety of my black tee shirt was in his hand as he held me over his head making us look like the two guys who didn’t make the cheerleading squad but were instead practicing for next year.

 

Then I could see he noticed my chest, shoulders and back were covered in Polynesian tattoos and he started to slowly smile and then he finally set me back on the ground. “Where you from brah?” he asked me.

 

I told him about my mother’s side of the family who were all natives to Hawaii, born and bred and that my grandfather’s side of the family had been in the islands since they came from Portugal in he 1860s. We spoke a little Pigeon English and “talked story” for a little while, turned out his family was from Nanakuli, which is where my grandfather grew up.

Thank God (Makua) for my golden mouthpiece, the Hawaiian Islands and it’s Aloha spirit as I have made it my practice to never wrestle gorillas. All joking aside, my Samoan bruddahs and sistahs are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Standing behind them in a buffet line however is indeed an exercise in futility.

On the way home I played some old timey gospel music, which soothed my anxious mind and body.

Social Note: It’s always best to count the costs of social altruism BEFORE you end up face to face with angry 400-pound men.

Personal Note: Mind your own fucking business!

Thursday (early a.m.): A childhood friend of mine sent me a YouTube snippet of the major motion picture “Harvey” starring Jimmy Stewart as a man who has an imaginary 6 or 7 foot tall rabbit as his best friend and confidante. The snippet included a line that was very powerful, it goes, “Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say, “In this world, Elwood, you must be,” – she always called me Elwood – “In this world, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant.” Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.”

 

My pal, who shall remain nameless, was sending me a passive aggressive message regarding my candor and ruthless indictments against society and Her inhabitants. My pal and Elwood may be right; maybe smart and pleasant don’t share the same bedclothes. I must confess that I have found more pleasure in being a pleasant man, but I can’t seem to quiet my noodles from boiling. How do you go from smart to pleasant without your brain exploding from contradiction? That Elwood must have been some kind of white shaman.

 

I say all that to say that I was refining my attitude for the Father-Daughter dance where I would no doubt be tested in this matter of pleasantness, pleasantries and all the sarcastic wires in my minds nest.

Thursday evening (NIGHT OF THE BIG DANCE):

 

Our eldest child, Julia Kailani, was wearing a lovely dress and her hair looked great it was pulled away from her pretty face so I could see her eyeballs. We were both excited to get out on the dance floor and shake our respective tail feathers as we waited in line outside the gymnasium. There were a few fathers who went all out and did the whole tuxedo thing with the limo and all the works, flowers and so on. My mind said that it was a bit creepy but I was determined to be pleasant.

 

Unfortunately for Julia she was walking into the dance with two fathers…well three if you count the Lord, one terribly cynical father and one father struggling to be pleasant in the face of foolishness. I had to remember that this was Julia’s night, not mine. This was the mind state that I needed to be licensed and insured in whilst I braced myself for a wild ride.

 

From the edge of the door I heard Motown music playing which calmed my racy thoughts. By the time we got in DJ DAX was playing “You wanna be starting something” by the King of Pop, Michael Jackson. Julia and I headed straight for the dance floor and man were we cutting the proverbial rug!

The gym where we were dancing was very poorly lit and the music was way too loud giving it that club vibe. This dance was for 7 and 8 year olds on a school night, what were these Philistines thinking? Maybe I am too old but this seemed way too advanced for these young girls.

Cynic dad was creating a checklist in his giant baldhead that would be visited on another occasion. Pleasant dad was smiling and dancing with Julia, twirling her and laughing it up.

 

After 4 or 5 songs we took a break and went over to the refreshment tables. Once again my mind started rambling and taking inventory. Do these kids need 30 feet of tables filled with nothing but sugar? Isn’t the school open tomorrow?

 

There was a 3 story chocolate fountain in the middle of a mountain of rice crispies treats, snicker bars, strawberries and marshmallows all ready to take a plunge into the chocolate fountain. There were cookies galore, cheesecakes, fudge brownies and boxes of candy all along the tables not to mention the sugar-laden punch bowl at the end of the table to “wash it all down”.

 

DJ DAX was stinking it up at this point of the dance playing inappropriate music for the young girls. Cynical dad was fueling up.

Julia asked me if she could go dance with her friends and the pleasant dad smiled and said, “Fine baby just stay away from that sugar, there is water on the other end if you are thirsty”. “Ok daddy, I will”, cynic dad knew it was horse shit and sneaky Julia knew it was too dark in there for her old pop to see what she was doing.

 

While Julia was engaged in a mile long conga line I spoke with another one of the fathers asking him what he thought of all this.

“Whaddah mean?”

“I think it’s great these girls git a nice night to spend with their daddies”, he twanged.

 

He was obviously a far more pleasant dad than I was or ever could be. The lighting situation was really weighing on my mind, as I could not see Julia and it appeared all the collective sugar was kicking in and the dance was in full swing so to speak. I found her at the chocolate fountain with chocolate smeared on her chin and a glazed look in her eye.

 

One thing all you parents out there must know if you don’t already know is that you didn’t have to teach your child to lie, it comes naturally. Little kids rely on their looks to make it in life as they are all unemployed and must be efficient “nags” to get what they want.

 

Julia looked up at me and said this was the first chocolate dipped strawberry she had. It was plain to me that she was either fibbing or there was a chocolate fountain fight that went unnoticed thusly tainting her chin with chocolate mist.

 

Cynical dad was quite furious at this point but pleasant dad smoothed things over reminding himself of the mantra “This is Julia’s night…not yours”

 

“Ok baby, I just don’t want you to get sick from too much sugar”, then I whispered in her ear, “ I know you’re lying Kai Kai…we will talk later, have a good time baby”. Then I kissed her cheek on both sides. It reminded me of the scene in Godfather Part 2 when Michael grabs Fredo and says, “I know it was you Fredo, you broke my heart, you broke my heart”.

 

Cynical dad is a jerk sometimes but I will not have lying kids in my life and I don’t care if I have to use a bit of psychology to frighten them.

 

Turns out by cynical dad’s definition DJ DAX was not a DJ at all he should change his name to “DAX the CD player”

DJs should know how to beat match with vinyl records and a mixer that is what I call a DJ. Taste was definitely missing from his stack of CDs as he continued to play Rhianna and a myriad of pop songs with sexually charged themes which were all inappropriate for 7 and 8 year old girls.

One of the young girls on the dance floor was dancing so crudely that cynical dad almost poured punch over her head to cool her down. To make matters worst Julia and a number of her friends were watching her wiggle and writhe about.

Dax the CD player announced that this next song would be the last song and that it would be a slow song for the all the fathers and daughters. Julia was wasted on sugar; she later confessed to eating 5 chocolate covered strawberries, a cheesecake, two cookies and a cup of punch. The slow song began; it was a country tune that I had never heard before. I picked up my sweet love and held her in my arms for the final dance. She was crashing hard off of the sugar rush and was quivering in my arms as the lyrics of the song began to enter my brain. “ I remember when you was a little girl…” Pleasant dad was smiling and getting quite emotional. The song continued, “You are my pride girl, the joy of my life”. I was beginning to tear up. “So today when I walk you down to the altar to marry your own true love…”

I put her down I shock, I was definitely NOT ready to hear that and pleasant dad couldn’t rebound from that one. We stuck it out and finished the dancing to the last tune, as I was mind yelping DJ DAX the CD player ripping him to shreds.

We hopped in the car and both of us were a little tired from the wild night. Julia seemed happy and I was relieved it was all over. On the way home I told her about Elwood and how we all must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant. She looked at me, smiled and said I was the best Daddy ever. The cynical dad thought it was the sugar talking but the pleasant dad just smiled and kissed her cheek, “I love you so much Julia and I am proud to be your daddy”. I don’t know if Elwood was right or wrong but being “oh so pleasant” feels oh so grand at times.

 

D.A. Medina

 

 

Fairytale of the Prince of the South and the Princess of the North

Long ago there were two proud and mighty nations. The armies of the two lands fought bitterly for many years and much blood was spilled. One day a letter arrived from the region of Gardenia where the King of the Southern Land dwelled with his Queen and two sons. The letter was addressed to the King of the Northern Land who dwelled in Antiochola with his Queen and his two daughters. The Southern King’s letter was very grim and spoke of all the young men who have died from the Southern Land. The mothers of all the young men had cried so many tears that a small lake had formed along the border of the two lands.

The King of the Northern Land became very troubled at the reading of the letter because the mothers in his own land had also filled a small lake with tears. The King thought wise to offer a sign of peace and sent the Southern King a letter of peace and a small white dove.

 

The letter read as follows;

 

Dear Southern King,

 

We have been adversaries for too long, much blood and many tears have spilled. Please take this dove as a sign of peace and let us dine with one another in two nights so our proud families can meet and make peace.

 

Your Friend and Comrade,

 

The King of the North

 

 

So it came to be that the royal families ate and drank together and made peace. The King’s daughter, Princess Angelina was tender and indeed a fair maiden. The King’s son, Prince Daniel was a tall and strong hunter who cared for nothing but the game he sought nightly. When Angelina was introduced to Daniel the spark of true love was struck and could not be denied. The noble Kings saw the love lights shining so brightly it lit the palace dining hall with all the strength of the sun.

 

It was decided that the two were to wed and unify the war torn kingdoms.

The night before the wedding the Prince and Princess were walking in the woods holding hands and making love to one another. As the Princess was whispering into the Prince’s ear she noticed a nightingale singing on a tree stump near the mouth of the woods.

 

The nightingale was singing such a lovely song the two lovers were enchanted and bid the nightingale to come sing to them.

At once the nightingale was changed into a night troll.

The troll rose up and grabbed the princess and turned the prince into stone.

 

The night troll took the princess back to his home and changed her into a white dove and put her in small black cage. The princess tried to scream but she could only make the sounds of a dove. As she looked around the troll’s home she realized there were more than a dozen doves, each in their own small black cage.

 

An old conjurer named Gamel was walking thru the wood on his way to the wedding when he looked upon the poor Prince Daniel frozen in his stone frame.

 

Gamel perceived the heart of the Prince still beating in his stone chest and at once with wave of his walking stick removed the curse.

 

“Thank you kind sir, I am deeply troubled however and my heart beats for my own true love who has been taken away by a foul night troll!”

 

The old conjurer was moved by the young man’s plight and decided to help him at once.

 

“I know not where the fair princess has been taken but I have these three magic stones that thou must take with thee on thy journey”

 

Gamel continued, “In thy time of need place one stone on the ground and make thy wish known and so it shall be my son. It is my heart’s intention for thou to find thy bride and make haste in wedding her and therefore uniting these mighty lands!”

 

Daniel looked up and thanked Gamel for his kindness, put his wishing stones in his pocket and began his long journey to find his Princess Angelina.

 

The Prince thought it wise to use the first stone to make him a bow and an unending quiver of arrows.

 

He placed one stone on the ground and spoke with a loud voice saying, “I wish on the wishing stone for an unbreakable bow of steel and an endless supply of arrows for my quiver that I may not go without food during my journey!”

 

At once the stone had changed into a menacing black bow and fine quiver of silver arrows. The prince gathered up the bow and arrows and began his search for the princess.

 

Prince Daniel searched and searched until 5 years had come and gone. He finally went to the mountain top to ask the Night Moon if he had seen his fair princess. “I pray thee moon thou who sees all of the night hast thou seen my Princess Angelina?”

 

“I have not seen the fair one, thou must come in the morn and ask the Sun if she has seen thy own true love” said the Moon.

 

As soon as the Sun reached the horizon Prince Daniel queried Her of the princess’s whereabouts. “Oh mighty Sun that lights the sky and all the land I pray thee hast thou seen my Princess Angelina?”

 

“I have seen the Princess the day she was captured by the night troll and your highness was made into stone, thy princess was taken to troll’s cottage at the end of the wood!”

 

Prince Daniel made haste to the cottage but was careful not to arouse the nightingale who was sleeping in his cage knowing the bird would change back into the troll and turn him to stone.

 

The prince creeped into the cottage and removed the lock from one of the dove cages and quickly locked the nightingale’s cage. Princess Angelina tweeted and sang loudly when she saw her prince. The noise woke the nightingale who was troubled to see that he was indeed locked up and could not change back into the troll.

 

Prince Daniel knew one of the doves was his fair princess but they all looked the same, finally he came to the cage that held Angelina who was now jumping about tweeting and singing. Daniel knew right away that the small white dove was his own true love.

 

Daniel placed the small dove in his coat and started out to find Gamel to aid him in his time of need.

He searched day and night and became weary from his travel. Daniel made a fire and placed the small dove on a blanket near the warm fire and went to find meat for supper.

 

Just as he was aiming his bow at a tall elk in the wood a terrifying dragon flew down from the sky and captured the Prince and took him back to her lair. At once the dragon was changed into a witch and cast a spell on the Prince turning him into her slave. All day and night the Prince slaved away for the witch, mending fences and killing game to feed the fat witch.

 

So it was that another 9 years had passed and the two lovers were lost. Angelina flew about night and day searching for her fair prince.

Prince Daniel was on his way to the well to bring water to the fat witch. As he bent over he saw himself in the clear water. Just then he remembered the two magic stones, as the spell was finally beginning to wear off. He placed one of the stones on the ground and wished for a magic sword and it was so. Daniel picked up the enchanted sword and went straight away into the witch’s house. “Thou haste cast a spell on me these many years and now thou must die you fat witch!”

 

With a swift blow he took her head off and threw it into the well.

 

“This cannot be my fate, I must find my Angelina!”

Prince Daniel had not gone far when the small white dove landed on his shoulder and began singing the song of true love. Daniel’s heart leaped in his chest. “You found me my love, I am so happy now we must make haste to find Gamel!”

 

The West Wind heard the Prince’s words and whispered into Gamel’s ear so he would make haste to the two lovers. Gamel found Prince Daniel and at once changed the dove into the Princess Angelina.

 

14 years after they first fell in love the Prince and Princess were finally married and the kingdoms were united. Princess Angelina was barren and could not make sons for the Prince. Angelina was deeply troubled for she wanted a son for her husband and an heir to the throne.

 

Prince Daniel was very sad but he remembered the magic stone. At once he summoned his Princess and they placed the stone on the ground and said these words; “Wishing stone we wish for a son of our own blood, pray thee give us a healthy son who will be handsome and wise!” All at once the stone turned into a handsome young boy and they named him Anthony. So after all their troubled days were behind them King Daniel, Queen Angelina and Prince Anthony lived all there days in peace and prosperity.

 

THE END

SRJC student’s horror story gives hope for new life after drug abuse

“I will give this interview on two conditions; you can’t use my name and you have to write it in a way that will help someone out there, you know someone on meth”

This is how my interview began with Rosie Lockwood, a mid-thirties Bay Area native, who attends Santa Rosa Junior College.

Rosie Lockwood is in the Federal Witness Protection Program. She is a single mother of three elementary school children, a sober member of Alcoholics Anonymous and a full time student who proudly brags about her 4.0 grade point average.

“The last semester I got a “B” on my philosophy paper and I started crying”, Lockwood said holding back her laughter. “After the hell I have been through, I’m crying about a “B”?

Lockwood has been tormented by drug abuse since she was a child. “I remember my speed freak mom used to tell me that’s it was ok to date older men and even sleep with them if they sold dope and had money”

“My mom was supposed to keep me away from that kind of shit, instead she turned me on to it”

Lockwood began using meth at age 13, at 21 she met her husband who was 20 years her senior and a narcotics underboss for one of the largest cartels in North America. She refused to provide any specific details on her husband in the likelihood that anyone reading this article may “put two and two together and put her family in harm’s way”

“In the beginning it was like thatGoodfellas” movie; he knew everyone and everyone knew him, I was treated like a queen, I had whatever I wanted” Lockwood recalls.

This royal treatment didn’t last long though, in less than two months Lockwood was using meth everyday; smoking it at first and ultimately becoming an IV user of both meth and heroine.

Lockwood went on to describe horrific accounts of domestic violence including being stabbed, beaten, raped and sodomized by her husband and his friends.

“Yeah, dope dealers don’t like it when you do up all the dope that they are supposed to sell, even after all that, I wasn’t able to stop using” Lockwood said in a solemn tone.

Lockwood’s husband had “f**ked up a pretty big deal in Mexico” in the summer of 2012 that eventually led to his incarceration and subsequent entry into the Federal Witness Protection Plan along with “Rosie” and their three children.

“You know, today… I have a quiet mind and a loving heart, those are the gifts I got by working my program” Lockwood said with her smile lighting up the cafeteria.

“Lots of my friends tried to get clean and sober but were tripping hard on the spiritual part of the program, I told them its ok, if God scares you out of AA, drugs and alcohol will scare you right back in”

 

D.A. Medina

 

 

 

Ode to the lightweights without the Light…

Spoken to the tune of “Tombstone Blues”

The Hamburgular and His Heroine hold down the hoe stroll

While Disney and Facebookers are draining your soul

And the whole wide world is under control

Of the Signal’s hum and It’s power

Newton and Tupac have left us alone

With gravity’s consequence on the Sickest third stone

And Adam is sleep walking, missing a bone

Holding hands with the snake in the Garden

Mama’s in the whorehouse

She’s looking for booze

Daddy’s yellow pillbox

Says he just can’t lose

I’m in the jungle

With the blackball blues

The symmetry of Venus is on the newsstand

Laughing at the candy bars “this must have been planned!”

The Nuts and Diabetics just whisper, “Isn’t this grand?”

While the clerk sifts the dope in his apron

Modern man’s sickness is smiling tonight

And the seed of my saint’s day doesn’t seem right

But the Jolly Green Giant has forfeited the fight

For his rights to his beans at the flophouse

Mama’s in the bathroom

She’s cooking up chris

Daddy’s on the borderline

Holding his piss

I’m in the motel

In a blacked out bliss

The Joker and Robin both have gone home

Leaving Batman and us sad folks “like …seriously alone”

Tell me My Captain in the most solemn tone

Is it better in the hellish here or the hereafter?

Football and the spirits are holding us tight

Wearing their numbers and dying to fight

I think somebody better turn off the big light

And send Babe to the gallows for his hanging

The bar rooms and churches are stretched the seams

The stars on the playground are grinding their dreams

With Cheswick and Kobe on opposite teams

Still the crowd screams for blood from the chickens

The Queen Mary and the Love Boat are losing their shine

While Julie and Isaac are cooking up swine

The Muslims are angry but Doc says it’s fine

We all need some courage for the feeding

Aww Mommas at the courthouse

She’s Lying with men

Daddy’s got the top bunk

At the old state penn

I’m in the liquor store

With my bottled best friend

the best things in life are lost in the breeze

Faith, Hope and Virtue are down on their knees

culture vultures hover, spreading disease

In our mission streets in San Francisco

Cindy and Bobby Brady are getting their fix

While Rerun and Potsie are plotting bank licks

The magic is gone all that’s left are snake tricks

And the same old lies from the Garden

Mama’s in the whorehouse

She’s looking for booze

Daddy’s yellow pillbox

Says he just can’t lose

I’m in the jungle

With the blackball blues

Foolish Fools (Car Salesman’s test-drive from hell)

Foolish Fools

By Daniel A Medina

Some lessons are never learned. Some would call people who don’t learn from life’s many miscues and blunders foolish fools. Those who garner wisdom frombad experiences and poor decisions are considered wise. By this standard Ramon should be the modern King Solomon but he wasn’t. The only constant in his life was drinking alcohol.

He had to write to keep the demons out of his head. Those bastard thoughts, fathered by unknown men, could make Ramon go insane if left unkempt in his weary mind. Ramon didn’t care for success anymore he just wanted a simple life free from debt and worry. He was beginning to think that did not exist.

“Maybe there isn’t a simple life, worry is a useless verb, the results of any situation are out of my hands”, the bastards began to stir.

“I should stop drinking, I’m killing myself and my Angelitas, I need to sell a car and stop gambling!”

“I owe so much money, I haven’t done my taxes and maybe I will be thrown in jail like the tax commercial on the radio keeps telling me”.

The words kept entering his giant Mexican head, it was like the morning after Thanksgiving when they open the doors at Best Buy. Hundreds of shoppers looking for the same items, hundreds of words all trying to do the same thing to poor Ramon…they were trying to kill him!

 

“My hair is thin and grey; I think I have high blood pressure and diabetes… possibly cancer”.

“I’m nauseous, I need to eat but I have only five dollars and I owe so much money plus I haven’t done my taxes!”

 

That was all Ramon could take, he had to write. He had to flush the demonic thoughts and ideas from his complicated brain. He began the furious tapping on his Blackberry phone.

 

Since Ramon didn’t bother with up loading apps and so on he would just tap out a really long email to himself and deal with the details later.

As he wrote, keeping one eye on the beat up asphalted car lot, the worry began to fade in the winter breeze. His troubles shrunk back to the normal sized woes of the common man. His heart rate slowed and fear became a stranger once again.

 

Time to sell baby!

 

Those of you sweet readers that have never been in sales might not understand the tension and stress of the salesman. The used car salesman is the most despised and pigeonholed salesperson in the history of sales, even hookers selling their “you know what” get more respect than your local “used car guy”.

 

Why are they treated so miserably in society? Most would say they are dishonest, pushy, classless and above all deceptive. These general indictments of this sub sect of salesman simply can’t cover all used car dealers.

Ramon’s technique was the soft sell, he applied very little pressure and lots of smiling. He spoke clearly and intelligently about almost any subject so he got along just fine with just about anyone. When he sensed the client was ready he lowered the volume of his voice which automatically opened his client’s ears and somehow made the situation just a bit more serious. He learned this whispering technique from his Uncle Rogelio.

Uncle thought it ironic that when a man or woman yells or screams most don’t want to listen but when you take the volume down to a whisper people want to hear what you have to say.

Ramon only struggled with his co workers, they were constantly complaining about their workplace. There is a nasty technique widely used in the automotive sales industry it’s called “krappin” somebody out.

This occurs almost every day and the idea is to “krap out” your fellow man by complaining him into feeling bad about selling used cars thusly improving your chances of selling a car. There is always the outside chance the used car guy gets so down he just throws in the towel and quits which also improves your chances to sell a car (mathematically speaking of course).

Here are some examples of “krap out” lines;

“This place is dead, I’m thinking about going to XYZ lot down the street!”

“Oh you want to share my desk with me? That’s cool, I’m fuckin out of here anyway this place sucks!

“We paid 8000 for this truck and I sold it for 15,000 and I only made 200.00 bucks, they are stealing from us”

This is a two part “krap”.

Salesman #1: “Wow its dead today huh?”

Salesman #2: “Dead? This is a busy day for us…you haven’t seen dead yet!”

Fighting boredom and cynicism are the main obstacles Ramon faced over the years but Ramon loved the spontaneity and unpredictability of the business.

You never know.

That is the motto of any salesman worth his weight. One moment you are leaning on a truck writing a poem that no one will read, broke as a joke and the next moment somebody saunters onto the asphalt playground and your whole day changes.

It is true that selling involves a bit of luck and Karma so Ramon was always very careful with his words and actions.

 

He never stole from anyone and despised dishonesty. All bad seeds make bad fruit, good seeds make good fruit and that is what Ramon needed. He couldn’t afford anything to go wrong in his bounded up budget. He wouldn’t steal a nickel candy, he couldn’t lie about anything, not because he wanted to be pious or conceited, he just wanted to sell lots of cars and win boatloads of money gambling.

One day a young lady was walking down the street in front of the car lot where Ramon worked. She had dark black hair, white teeth and wore a white dress with white boots. She was walking a white dog named Princess.

Princess was a terrier and a long lost cousin to “Terry” the dog who played the role of “Toto” so well in the 1939 feature film “The Wizard of Oz”. Terry turned in an Oscar worthy performance all the while nursing a broken foot.

What a small world.

Ramon was in good spirits; his team had covered the point spread and lowered his considerable gambling debt by 750.00.

“You know you could be driving instead of walking”.

“Really?”

“Sure…I have a white Camry that matches your outfit and your dog”

“Really?”

Each time she said “Really” the pitch of her voice crescendoe’d and rose

higher and higher. She sounded like Mariah Carey or a dolphin.

“My name is Ramon, welcome to Toyota Miss”

“Thank you…can I really buy this car?”

“Of course, why not? Let’s take it out for a nice drive…what’s your name?”

“Norma…sure let’s go!”

“We can take it on the freeway, if you’d like”

“Really?”

“Yes…really.”

 

They turned the corner onto Van Ness Avenue and proceeded to the 101 southbound. The day was clear and fresh, the traffic was moving quickly in the mid day sun. Ramon hated test drives but they were unavoidable. The most dangerous part of the car salesman’s job is the test drive.

As they pulled around the flat grey concrete onto the circled on rampRamon’s mind began to speak, “This girl is a fool…a foolish fool, she can’t drive…I can’t stand small dogs”

His body looked over at the smiling black haired chimp and shrugged his shoulders, “it is what it is”, said the mind.

They slid through the San Francisco skyline; two strangers on a wild ride underneath the psychedelic clouded canopy of blues and whites. The wind was clean and purposeful, guiding Ramon’s spirit to fly freely and his mind to settle in its nest.

As they left the city’s remains in the sparkle of the rear view mirror, the sun beamed upon them like God’s divine pinky ring bling.

“Oh my God I have never been on the freeway!”

“What?”

Ramon’s body was cringing.

“This is great! Wait…the sun is in my eyes…oh my God”

She stopped.

“Hey..go….GO! GO!…” Ramon grabbed her knee and pushed it on the gas pedal. Ramon’s alleged high blood pressure was banging and zipping through his body like a cluster of hopped up bumble bees buzzing through arteries and veins. Meanwhile cars, trucks and vans flew by them honking and swearing in the mid day sun.

Within seconds, that seemed like hours, they were back to highway speed,

Ramon let loose of her knee and the car began to slow again. “Hey don’t…!” The girl’s knee disconnected from her thigh…she had a prosthetic leg.

 

Ramon hadn’t noticed her false leg upon first glance; she hid it well under her white boots. He remembered her gait had the slightest of wobble to it but Ramon wasn’t interested in her sway but in her ability to buy. A test drive from the depths of hell; Ramon had to hold the fake calf down on the gas pedal until they reached an exit where Ramon took the wheel.

Norma was deep into frenzy mode. Her body was filling itself with endorphins and began screaming; at that point Ramon was convinced she was at least part dolphin. Princess started barking and even though they couldn’t understand the cotton balled pooch it was clear she was angry. During all the chaos, Ramon forgot to give her leg back, he had her plastic foot and calf combo in his hand as he jumped out of the car to switch places with Norma.

Poor Norma was hopping on her good leg as she moved across the back of the car to the other side.

They looked like two maniacs involved in wild Chinese fire drill; Ramon running around the front of the car holding a leg and Norma hopping earnestly with spare boot in hand.

To Princess’s credit she did not take part in the parade but instead remained buckled to her seat.

Ramon buckled his seat belt and handed the leg to Norma. Ramon’s body was fried from the pseudo-hypertension.

“That was unbelievable! Kind of embarrassing for me but the brakes work great and we accelerated and got up to freeway speed in a jiffy!” “I’m totally sold, let me just get my leg and boot situated then we can go back to the dealership”.

Ramon’s mind, body and spirit were baffled and neither of the three reacted in any way until the body was safe on the showroom floor.

“Ms Norma, it is very difficult to know what to say” said Ramon as he pulled out a chair for the woman who almost killed him.

Ramon’s body began to relax and his mind reminded him of the task at hand. “This girl is crazy Ramon but she is licensed and very soon will be insured by Ali and off in her new car” said the mind.

Ramon smiled, “It’s very exciting isn’t it Norma? We sell cars everyday so for us it’s a job but we must not forget that buying a new car is exciting”

“Please promise me Norma you will take a few driving lessons before you get out onto the freeway!”

“I will”

Ramon kept smiling, “You must promise me or I will not sell this car to you and your dog!”

They both started laughing. Ramon was laughing because the girl was just walking down the street minding her business walking her dog and 2 hours later he was making his rent. Norma didn’t know why she was laughing but she had a good howl. Princess didn’t think any of it was funny at all and was shocked her foolish owner just decided to buy a car after that performance behind the wheel.

Luckily for our hero, Princess didn’t speak English or the whole deal might have imploded.

After all the paperwork was signed, Ramon shook Norma’s hand and thanked her for her business.

“Well Ms. Norma that was an adventure I will never forget”

“Really?….why?”

Norma was one of Ramon’s only customers who left him speechless. Ramon just smiled and told her congratulations. As they drove off, Princess poked her head over the back seat and barked angrily at Ramon.

Ramon made over 1700.00 that day including his gambling money and within four hours he did his job, he covered the rent again.

Ramon caught the train back to his neighborhood. His mind kept replaying the scene of the terrier speaking her mind behind the rear window.

Two weeks later Norma wrecked the car on the freeway, she stopped because the sun got in her eyes. She broke 25 bones and couldn’t walk for two months.

Some lessons are never learned.

Princess wasn’t in the car at the time of the wreck, wise dog, foolish fool.

The future has no formula baby

The future has no formula baby…
It’s all Jazz.
It’s the ultimate

improvisation.
No script,
No plot
Except the one that the Big Man got.
It’s not

in your 401k

or retirement plot

and it’s most assuredly not

in the hole that your

head is buried in.
You thought you

thought it
Through
Quite thoroughly but in real time it’s just a

giant knot that they got you tangled up in,
They star spangled you up again
(Singing D’Angelo style)

“And they laughin in yo face once again, got yo mouth up on they hook…one mo gin’”

It’s just the same old lies

strewn from the snake’s green eyes
In the Garden of Eden with

Eve and them
And after all that, the wars and the bullshit

reasons for war, after all the millions and

millions

of innocent simple folks Uncle Sam

murdered by the bushel…

the smoke cleared and we all got in gear behind

television fear,
We forgot about the lies and believed again.

Amnesia is the state that we ALL are licensed and insured in.
The Rat race

marathon where

Nobody keeps winning

it’s
the Worldwide Web

that we are all happy to be stuck in.
The reason we all keep

running in circles trying to

eat,

drink

sleep and watch the watch-box.

It’s all Jazz baby,
It’s the worst notes sung and hung on the wall with the Karaoke speakers
And the speakers aren’t speaking anymore they are screaming

“Die you fucking shaved monkeys!”

“But die slow so we can get our flow…”

Drink your miller’s light

wear your team’s colors.
Swallow

the pills

they give you

and wash it down

with holy water

and try to find the time.

Have you ever seen Miles Davis

tap his feet to find the beat?

Never my man,

He was the master of improvisation

he rode that wind without a scowl or grin,

He is one of the main reasons they stopped calling us boys and the reason we call each other men.

You all cannot bob your head to anything but a four-four,
What will you do with a 6/8 or a 12/8?
Five time?

What if it swings from Staccato’s branches?
Or hangs from Legato’s leggings?

It’s the new bowl of gumbo;

sling shot around the corner on the first day that your pension plan kicks in odd meter

(Somebody spent it)

The future is improvisation my sissy boy nation!
Jazz is improvisation
And it’s the truth.
The truth never sounds the same any more

The Truth wears no make up and has Its own schedule and agenda.

It’s everything that you think will last,

everything you thought would last.

You sweat up your shoes

and pulled out your hair for the future!
You planned without the plans my man!

Does the architect build his dream house with dreams that he drummed up while

dreaming?
I don’t know about you …

but me?

I’m always scheming…
hoping and

believing,
And just banging on my drums

to whatever beat

choose      

  in 

                             the 

                                 late

              watered

          down 

evening.

D. MEDINA 14’