If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can imagine
"You're calling in to work tomorrow," Amy ordered. Order? Or statement of fact?
"Oh I am, am I? What, are you going to make me? Beat my ass so bad if I don't I won't be able to go to work?"
"Please? I really need somebody to talk to."
That was a bad sign; something must have really been bothering her. Amy's not one to plead, or even ask. Good looking women are like that.
So since she asked, and nicely at that for once, I agreed. We went down to the County Market for a six dollar fifth of Canadian Superior and a six pack of Busch.
"County Market" used to be Cub Foods. Years ago here in Springfield Cub used to have inexpensive goods, rivaling Aldi's. The difference was that the Aldi's stores were small, with limited selections, and situated all over town, while Cub was a big full featured supermarket and there was only one - on the west side, where the rich people live.
The poor black people on the east side and the poor white people on the north side were stuck with high prices; no full featured grocery stores, and mostly "convenience" stores with their ultra-high prices, while the rich people in their million dollar mansions on the west side of town get their food cheap. Blood, Sweat and Tears said it in their song "God Bless the Child": "Those that got shall get, those that not shall lose. So the bible says, and it still is news." I tried in vain this morning to find a link to that passage in the Bible but couldn't, despite the fact that I've seen the passage before.
The south side and the southern north side where the more middle class people here in "Springpatch" (as the folks who live here often call it) had the middle priced Jewell-Osco combination grocery/drug stores. The one on the south end on sixth street had the word "drug" situated over the word "food" on the building. "Drug food" used to continually amuse me, especially when I'd go there with the pot-induced munchies.
Cubs bought out a lot of other grocery stores, including the one on South Sixth street. The first thing they did was to raise all of the prices. Those of you who consider yourselves Christians (sorry, I'm writing this on Sunday so Christ is on my mind) who own stock should well consider the evil your investments do, and do what you can to mitigate that evil. With riches comes responsibility, and those of you who are well off are not doing your part to make the world a better place. If you consider yourself a Christian, you would do well to read the first four books of the New Testament. Jesus didn't talk of homosexuality or any of the other things the Evangelists and their preachers, like Pat Robertson, who wear Satan's leash, the necktie, symbol of wealth and power, talk about. Jesus spoke of treating your fellow humans as you would wish to be treated.
The poor hate you. And they have good reason to hate you. You consider them worthless and treat them like shit, can you blame them? Why do you act like that?
Forget homosexuality, forget about abortion. Jesus didn't speak of such things. Anti-abortionists, who call themselves "pro-life" despite the fact that most of them support the death penalty, damned lying hypocrites. "Thou shalt not kill" and I am offended and disturbed that killers are murdered by the state in my name, say that "life begins at conception" despite the undeniable fact that life doesn't start at all; it only started once on this planet that can be in any way verified whether scientifically or written in Genesis and has only continued since.
The question is "what is a human" and neither the Bible nor science has answered that question. Abortion is none of your business unless you or your mate are considering one, or you are a doctor. A zygote is not, in my opinion, a baby. It is not up to you to force your morality on me. "Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye."
The only evil you can truly fight is within yourself. If you own stock in Cub Foods, then you share in Cub Foods' evil and that is what you should fight, not homosexuality or abortion. Work on the evil you yourself are causing, and work on the evil you are causing yourself.
When Cubs became County Market they raised the prices yet again. AFAIK they have no less clout than Wal Mart, the evil corporation most of you rant about. At least Wal Mart's stuff is affordable to the poor, unlike the other corporatates' wares.
If you have money you have responsibility.
Like I said, as I write this it's Sunday. I had the rabbit-ears fed TV on, and all that's on is two religious programs spouting drivel and bad music, and four programs that are nothing but ads. America is most decidedly not a Christian nation; even its preachers seem to have not read Jesus' words, and its TV stations use Sunday to troll for filthy lucre.
But I digress into a long rant about religion and economics, sorry. I'm bad about that. Anyway, we got a fifth and a six pack. And we drank and talked and talked and drank and drank and talked and talked and talked. Her concerns were about her boyfriend, the man she's in love with, the man she's wanted to move in with, the man who said he would never marry again and who she wanted to marry. It seems he made overtures to have her move in with him, and hinted marriage. And now that it seems she may get what she's been hoping for, she's not sure she wants it. "I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship", she said, despite the fact that she's in one.
Sleep came in the larger of the wee hours. I set the alarm for when my boss would be in so I could call in sick. I was hung over when I called.
We talked more when we got up. Thursday evening I got to bed late. Friday morning she was gone.
After work I went home and ate dinner and had a beer, and decided to look for company. I was lonely as hell. I finished eating and went to Farley's. While there, the phone rane. It was Amy's boyfriend. "Is Amy there?"
"No," I siad, "I'm up at Farley's having a beer. She wasn't home when I got off work, I'll tell her you called if I see her."
I'd forgotten that I'd loaned him some money, and he was coming over to give it back about six thirty or so. I told him I'd be home.
He smoked a few hitters with me and paid me back. I told him to try Tami's. "No," he said, "I'm not going there." He didn't know that Amy had told me that Tami had hit on him right in front of her and he was thoroughly repulsed. Plus he didn't like Tami's husband much either, as the shiftless alien had tried to get in Amy's pants and Amy had told her BF about it.
After he left I called someone, looking to buy some pot. They had it, so I went over and copped. Amy doesn't smoke pot (only those nasty damned cigarettes) but is a friend of the pot seller. "If you see Amy, tell her to call me, would you?" I wanted to tell Amy to call her BF, who was worried about her and disappointed that she hadn't been home or called him.
"She just left here, she was with Tami."
I dropped the reefer off at home and drove to Tami's. They were getting out of the car as I got there. Amy's BF was in Tami's apartment waiting for them. Amy and her BF left for his house in the country, and I left to go to JW's for a beer.
Bighead called. She was in a bar in "the hood", which in Springfield is what a lot of people call the east side ghetto, not far from where I live. In fact, "the hood" is so close I've gone for walks and wound up there. "Are you looking for some company?" she asked, which is hooker code for "do you want to buy some pussy?"
I told her I wasn't horney as I'd just gotten laid (I'd seen big fat "Annie" a day or two earlier; it was hard to say when, what with the drinking and potsmoking and all), but that I was looking for company. "Are you alone?" I asked. "No," she said, and said she was with her pimp/boyfriend; not in those words, she called him by name. I wound up going there anyway.
No sooner than I'd taken the first drink of my beer than she wanted to leave. I told her again that I wasn't looking for sex. As we were walking out, her pimp said something and she went back in. "Wait in the car, I'll be right back." Apparently he was broke and wanted money from her.
Rather than going to the one-woman whorehouse; the other whore was apparently a black hooker in the Sangamon County Jail for prostitution, we went to my house instead for beer and reefer.
After a couple of hours she started worrying that her pimp would find out where she was. Oddly, he was a jealous type.
I didn't understand that at all, and said so. I reminded her that the first time we'd met it seemed he didn't care at all.
She told me he was a crackhead, and the crack was the most important thing there was to him. I found out later that she was a needle junkie who shot cocaine, which explains her extreme skinniness. What a pitiful pair!
She said he was going to beat her ass but that didn't matter, she was worried about me. The fellow's about six-five, muscular, and twenty years younger than me. I told her that I wasn't afraid of some fucking asshole.
I thought of Obi-Wan. "I fight like an old man," I told her. "I'm not afraid of death; I've outlived a lot of friends, and some of them died of natural causes." I didn't mention that I'd already died once before. "I'm not afraid of pain; I've had arthritis in my spine since I was a teenager." And I've been hit in the face with a half-ton pickup truck; nobody made of muscle and bone can hit that hard. "If he comes through my door I'd only have to stay alive for five minutes before the cops will be here, and I'll be out of the hospital long before he's out of jail, and my lawyer will make sure everything he owns is mine."
Poor fool. But I'd take her home for her sake. "I have an ass beating coming anyway, but I'm having too much fun," she said.
You can see why I wind up having hookers for friends. Hookers' friends are all hookers, who treat each other like they are treated by everyone else.
Nobody treats hookers well. They're treated as things, not people; treated as some sort of subhuman that doesn't matter. They're not even treated like human beings, let alone ladies, and they're not used to a wierdo like me who will treat them like ladies and show respect and courtesy.
We had fun. Then the phone rang.
It was Amy. "Come get me!" She was at her boyfriend's.
"Look," I said, "I'm with somebody."
"Who?" I said Bighead's name, which was unfortunately the same name as a women whose guts Amy hates and who she knew I'd been with before. I explained that it was a different woman, and she somehow talked me into driving out into the country to get her. "I'm driving" she said.
"No you're not" I replied. She was obviously in "a mood" and I shouldn't have let her talk me into coming. She came out, and was upest when I made her sit in the back seat. But damn it, I was with Bighead, Amy was the interloper who had intruded on my evening.
She was in an incredibly bad mood, as bad a mood as anyone with bipolar disorder gets, and if you know anyone with that condition you know how incredibly hateful that can be. She was especially hateful to Bighead, and got into a really loud argument with me. She wound up taking my phone and calling her boyfriend and demanding that he come and get her, promising to never do it again, "it" being leaving in the middle of the night like that.
It took hours before Bighead and I got out of our bad moods. We talked and partied the rest of the night and all day Saturday.
Bighead said it looked to her as if Amy was jealous!
I dropped her off close to home about six Saturday evening, and went home to bed, having been awake since I'd gotten up for work Friday.