When I was 13 I saw someone brutally murdered.
Across the street from my school was a cafe at least in name. This place not only served some of the best fish sandwiches in a state renowned for its food it also was where you could buy any drug you wanted.
The day I saw my first man die was like any other day.
I was skipping school.
I had discovered that if I read the text books I could miss class and still retain the information needed to pass tests. I could forgo all of the stuff I found boring class discussions, lectures, taking notes, and having to sit still.
That way I could watch the adults shoot dice, snort coke, solicit prostitutes and all of the things that I found exciting.
Was sitting at the bar when the ill-fated drug addict came in. I'd never seen this particular addict before which was in itself quite an accomplishment. His hair was reddish brown and he had freckles, I can't for the life of me recall what he was wearing but I had on a Tommy Bahama shirt. I remember because it was my prize possession at the time the only thing that I owned that was in style.
Sitting on my stool I watched the entire drama unfold. Saw him approach the Heroin dealer, hand him a roll of quarters and tell him what he wanted.
Watched the drug dealer give him a good once over and heard him say. "Yeah I got zackly wat ya need."
I focused on my Fish sandwich two huge catfish fillets on regular loaf bread with hot sauce and mayo, I was greedy, I guess I still am, so I also had an order of "Potato logs"
I recall the red head grabbed one of my potatoes as he waited and waggled his eyebrows at me.
At just that moment the drug dealer reappeared. One moment I was watching this young white kid who was probably 10 years my senior bounce his eyebrows at me the next his brains and ocular fluid were staining my Tommy Bahama shirt. The sawed off shotgun that the Heroin dealer had used looked huge and was still pointed almost directly at me. The pusher said something to me but I couldn't hear him. I don't know if the shotgun had deafened me temporarily or if I was just in shock. I ran back across the street to my school, ran straight to the class I was supposed to be in to my actual desk and sat down. The next thing I remember is the sheriff asking me if I had seen what happened.
It was the first time I had cursed in the presence of an adult in a very long time. “I didn’t see shit.” I repeated that to the sheriff more often than a 1980s rap hook.
The brain matter on my shirt belied what I was saying but I was a child and not suspected at all. In fact I wasn’t even told off for not being in class. My Parents never asked me to talk about it, it was the 1980’s and people didn’t worry about mental health as much then as they do now.
I wish that I could honestly say that I learned a valuable lesson that day and that I never skipped school again but I would be lying. In fact I saw someone else murdered in the same place not 6 months later this time a stabbing. I literally saw the older man pull the knife and heard him whistle the entire time he was cutting his victim.
The experience didn’t keep me from experimenting with selling drugs or keep me from trying them although I never tried Heroin and have no plans on it.
I still hung out at that café until they went out of business long after I was grown.
Across the street from my school was a cafe at least in name. This place not only served some of the best fish sandwiches in a state renowned for its food it also was where you could buy any drug you wanted.
The day I saw my first man die was like any other day.
I was skipping school.
I had discovered that if I read the text books I could miss class and still retain the information needed to pass tests. I could forgo all of the stuff I found boring class discussions, lectures, taking notes, and having to sit still.
That way I could watch the adults shoot dice, snort coke, solicit prostitutes and all of the things that I found exciting.
Was sitting at the bar when the ill-fated drug addict came in. I'd never seen this particular addict before which was in itself quite an accomplishment. His hair was reddish brown and he had freckles, I can't for the life of me recall what he was wearing but I had on a Tommy Bahama shirt. I remember because it was my prize possession at the time the only thing that I owned that was in style.
Sitting on my stool I watched the entire drama unfold. Saw him approach the Heroin dealer, hand him a roll of quarters and tell him what he wanted.
Watched the drug dealer give him a good once over and heard him say. "Yeah I got zackly wat ya need."
I focused on my Fish sandwich two huge catfish fillets on regular loaf bread with hot sauce and mayo, I was greedy, I guess I still am, so I also had an order of "Potato logs"
I recall the red head grabbed one of my potatoes as he waited and waggled his eyebrows at me.
At just that moment the drug dealer reappeared. One moment I was watching this young white kid who was probably 10 years my senior bounce his eyebrows at me the next his brains and ocular fluid were staining my Tommy Bahama shirt. The sawed off shotgun that the Heroin dealer had used looked huge and was still pointed almost directly at me. The pusher said something to me but I couldn't hear him. I don't know if the shotgun had deafened me temporarily or if I was just in shock. I ran back across the street to my school, ran straight to the class I was supposed to be in to my actual desk and sat down. The next thing I remember is the sheriff asking me if I had seen what happened.
It was the first time I had cursed in the presence of an adult in a very long time. “I didn’t see shit.” I repeated that to the sheriff more often than a 1980s rap hook.
The brain matter on my shirt belied what I was saying but I was a child and not suspected at all. In fact I wasn’t even told off for not being in class. My Parents never asked me to talk about it, it was the 1980’s and people didn’t worry about mental health as much then as they do now.
I wish that I could honestly say that I learned a valuable lesson that day and that I never skipped school again but I would be lying. In fact I saw someone else murdered in the same place not 6 months later this time a stabbing. I literally saw the older man pull the knife and heard him whistle the entire time he was cutting his victim.
The experience didn’t keep me from experimenting with selling drugs or keep me from trying them although I never tried Heroin and have no plans on it.
I still hung out at that café until they went out of business long after I was grown.
No comments:
Post a Comment