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▶  More from Harm City Guest Authors Tao of Tony Rooster
Brand New Mercedes
The Tao of Tony Rooster

The guy looked like a first class jerk-off. Definitely out of place in this working man's bar. Brand new golf clothes on, and a long, horse-like face that put off an air of condescension. He was drunker than a brick layer on pay day, talking big, too loud, and flashing his money around. I took an instant dislike to him. Me and my chick and her girlfriend were sitting at the bar, trying our best to ignore this bozo.

After while, he ends up sitting next to my girl and chatting her up. Pretty soon, his hand is on her leg. I don't think much of it, I can see he's wasted and maybe doesn't know she's here with me. She removes his hand and points me out to him. I smile and nod. I really don't wanna go to jail.

Of course, the drunken fool comes over to me like I'm his new best friend and apologizes, offers to buy me a drink, and starts telling me all about himself, which is every drunk's favorite subject.

He just got back from Kuwait. Was some kind of contractor for Halliburton. Said he works 5 months a year, makes all kinds of big money, and comes back home, without ever paying a dime of income tax. He just bought a brand new Mercedes that very day. He lives for golf.....

I need to get away from this clown before he tells me his life story, or starts crying, or I end up having to slap him.

I get up to take a piss, and when I come back I see his filthy hand pinch my girl's titty. She slaps his face, and then I'm Johnny on the spot. I'm a big dude, can be menacing when needed, I figured I can easily handle this guy without getting physical. At this point in my life, the idea of ending up in jail just isn't an option. Translation: I'm not that drunk yet.

I calmly tell the guy that it's time for him to leave, and that I'll be walking him to his car to make sure he skedaddles.

Outside he has a brand new Mercedes all right, paper permit still in the window. This guy is so drunk he can barely walk, and I think he actually forgot why we were walking outside.

"Can you score me some coke? I have money.....".

He pulls out a crumpled wad that looked to be around 900$.

Before you go judging me, take a walk in my shoes. I'm 26 at this point, making 10$ an hour, delivering and installing home appliances. I never set out to take this fool's money. But at the same time I felt like if anyone deserved to lose a few bucks, it was this asshole. He really was lucky I didn't stomp a mudhole in his chest. Now a days, I'm a responsible, boring guy who lives for his kids. I even volunteer down at the grade school, helping kids who are having a hard time learning how to read. People change, but I never really was a BAD guy.

Back to the story.

"Yeah man, I can get you some coke. Let's go."

I figure this new car probably has all kinds of air bags and safety features, and as long as I can keep him going the speed limit, I'll live through the ride.

First thing he does is put it in drive and smash into the brick wall of the bar. "Oops, wrong gear. I just got it today...."

Okay, let's see here, I'll just have him park around the corner from my apartment and then tell him I need the money and, don't worry, I'll be right back. Easy enough.

This drunken idiot is all over the road. Going slow, going fast, hitting curbs.....and then he gets pulled over right in front of my apartment.

The cops ask for his license. He tries the war hero angle on 'em, tells em he just got back from some super secret mercenary shit in Iraq, and all he has is this here Halliburton ID card. Cops cuff him anyway and ask me if I can drive his car home for him, keep it from getting towed.

Cops sure are nice to guys in new Mercedes.

Before they put him in the squad car, he tells me, "Here, take my wallet and keys, bro, sorry about all this, man......"

I tell the cops I've been drinking. They say, "Just drive it anyway, you look less drunk than him."

I know better and demand a breathalyzer, at which point I proceed to blow somewhat over the legal limit.

"I live right there," I tell the cops, pointing to my apartment, "I can get my sober neighbor over here to park it at my place if you just wait 2 minutes."

20 minutes later, I roll back to the bar and show my chick the wad of cash. I show her the car outside and she freaks, starts asking if I killed the dude. I reassure her, and we have a fun rest of our night, joyriding the hell out of his car.

About 6 a.m. I wake up with a guilty conscience. I call the jail and ask if I can bring numbnuts his keys back.

"We'll release him if you come get him. But he'll be released into your custody. We can't let a drunk person just walk out of here by himself. You can't let him drive his car for 8 hours."

So, I go get him. He's thanking me, saying he knew I was a good guy, etc. I drive to the 7-11 near my home and give him his keys and wallet.

"Your money is gone. You ain't gettin' it back. But your car is safe, your'e out of jail, and here's your wallet."

Sniveling little bitch whined, "That's fucked up....."

He got out of the back seat and started putting his leather belt back on, his shoelaces back in. Got in his car and drove away. And after he was gone, I see his wallet sitting there in the parking lot. Jesus Christ, this man is a chump for the ages.

I decide to go through his wallet for the first time. There's 4 different driver's licenses from 4 different states in 4 different names, all bearing his likeness. All kinds of conflicting information is in there. And I spot a folded up 100,000 Iraqi dinar note. What's this? I check the value online and see that an Iraqi dinar is worth something more than a US dollar. That can't be right. After much checking, I realized that I had been looking at old rates, from before the last gulf war. The dinar went from being over a dollar, to, 100,000 of 'em being just enough to buy a steak dinner, after Saddam was toppled.

Next day, the cops call me. They want to know who this guy is. His prints came back with nothing. His info was all bad. I tell the cops I don't know the guy, but do they want his wallet? They don't.

This whole thing was starting to give me bad juju. I dropped his wallet in a mailbox and went on with my life.

Thriving in Bad Places

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BobOctober 12, 2017 10:49 PM UTC

You should collate these into book form and self-publish. They're good reading and a digestible length.