Category Archives: Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society

Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Chp VII: Flashbacks)

It is hard for me to remember everything that happened to me after I got kidnapped from my barracks room. The rest of the time I spent with PJ in our hideout was used to figure it out, and to help him fight the addiction and corruption that was forced upon him at a young age.

SSgt Jimenez pulled me out of the van we were in when we got to Quantico, and I asked him what in the hell was going on.

“Julio, what are you doing? Why are you acting like this? Where the hell are we?”
“Woah…” it looked like he snapped out of a daze, “Kerkman, what the hell are you doing here?”
“YOU FUCKING KIDNAPPED ME FROM THE BARRACKS MOTHERFUCKER!”
“Shut the fuck up Kerkman! They’ll hear you. Fuck….”

He looked up at the sky then got down on his knees to say a prayer, not being a religious person at the time, this set me off. I stood there with my arms crossed, getting fucking pissed as I watched more vans pull up with members of different branches pouring out of the backs looking like zombies. One van pulled up and I saw Captain Billy McDonal fall out with some guys in Air Force BDUs but he was still in his cammies.

“SSgt, look. It’s Captain McDonal I’m sure he’ll know what’s going on.”

SSgt was still praying, so I just walked over to my Captain as these Air Force fucks pushed and yelled at him to fall into formation.

“What the fuck do you guys think you’re doing to my fucking Captain of Marines? He’s not falling into your formation, he’s falling into MY formation.”

I was shaking Capt. McDonal, trying to snap him out of the daze he was in. Then they all started mumbling and hush hushing to eachother wondering what rank I was and if I was going to kill them or not. I looked down and I was wearing Master Sergeant rank, which felt nice as I was yelling at those “airmen.”

“If you don’t get the FUCK away from my Captain, I will fucking kill you.”
“Aye Master Sergeant!” they yelled as they ran away to their nasty formation.

Then my Captain snapped out of it.

“Kerkman, why are you wearing MSgt rank?”
“I don’t fucking know, sir. I don’t even know where the fuck we’re at or what we’re fucking doing.”
“Where are we?”
“Probably somewhere northeast judging by the weather and the smell in the air.”
He looked around and started to recognize the area, “You’re right. We’re in Quantico or Maryland, probably Maryland. How did you know that? It doesn’t matter. Look Kerkman, go back over to SSgt and take that rank off. We’re about to be tortured, but we’re gonna get through it together. I need you to go to position of attention, parade rest, say ‘aye sir,’ and run over there.”
“What?”
“DO IT NOW! Before THEY,” he pointed at the formation of Air Force BDUs staring creepily at us, “fucking kill you.”

As I realized what was going on, I looked straight forward, popped into position of attention, then went to parade rest and yelled “AYE SIR!” at the top of my lungs. It kind of freaked him out, so I winked at him and ran back over to SSgt Jimenez who came out of prayer.

“Kerkman, your mission is to save your Captain,” he grabbed my shoulders, “That’s it. Don’t fucking forget that. What is your mission, Marine?”
“To save my Captain, SSgt!”
“Good. Now, I have to do this shit to you and you’re going to go through a lot of shit. The key to stopping the torture is to say that you’re in the Air Force. It is very important.”
“Why do they make us say we’re in the Air Force?”
“Because, Kerkman, we’re fucking Marines and we have honor. They don’t know what that fucking means.”

I stood up straight with my chest out as he put my LCpl chevrons back on; I’d just gotten promoted the day before I was kidnapped.

“I am a Lance Corporal of Marines, SSgt.”
“No you’re not,” he smiled at me.
“Oh, that’s right. I mean. I’m an airman, SSgt.”
“Don’t forget that, Kerkman.”
“Do your shit before you get killed, SSgt.”

He looked behind him and there were Air Force BDUs staring at us again. He yelled at me to lay down on the ground, I acted scared and started crying as he hit me with another needle.

The next thing I remember is being forced to take off all of my clothes in front of every man and woman in the room, and getting pictures taken of my entire body. Next was blood tests, and being injected with all kinds of needles in all kinds of places. I fought it hard, but the more you fight it, the more you get raped and the shit kicked out of you. They make the other military members in the room do it so they don’t have to do it themselves.

The whole time I was wondering who the controllers were, trying to hear names and identify faces, but mostly trying to find out where the fuck Capt McDonal was. I recognized some Marines I’d helped out with pay problems from different units and I would ask them if they’d seen or heard the name Capt McDonal, but none of them would answer me. They just stared forward and didn’t say anything, then before I knew it, I’d have a gang of troops on top of me. One of the controllers got sick and tired of watching me fight the troops off of me, beating the shit out of them:

“Your Captain isn’t here. He’s not in this unit.”
“Where is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Then I’m going to keep on asking.”
“What are you?”
“An airman. Who are you?”
He stared at me stone cold, “It doesn’t matter to you. Are you sure you’re an airman because you’re acting like a Marine.”
“Nope, I’m an airman.”
“Ok, you’re an airman,” he smiled, “let me ask you a question, then. What’s the Air Force motto?”

Now I’m nervous ’cause I had no fucking clue, and he knew he had me cornered. So now I know I’m in for some deep fucking trouble:

I smirked, “Sit down in a chair, Marine.”

I’d lost my bearing and couldn’t stop laughing. He was pissed and the controllers in the other room were yelling at him to subdue me.

“You are a fucking Marine, and now you’re going to pay for that.”
“Now you sound like a Marine. Are you a Marine?”

Then he stuck me with another needle.

“Libertatem Defendimus,” he said.
“Semper Fidelis, motherfucker,” I mumbled as he punched me and knocked me out.

When I woke up, I was in a separate room from the rest of the troops on a chair with stirrups and no clothes on. I opened up my eyes and could hear a conversation between two unknown people in the other room, so I closed them again.

“She’s just gonna keep on asking where he is.”
“Then we’re just gonna have to be harder on her.”
“But she beats the shit out of all of the troops that we use to try to subdue her.”
“She’s gonna need more drugs then. She won’t be trying to do that when she’s all doped up.”
“We don’t have any extra injections, and she’s already done all that shit with the regular amount. She almost fucking killed all of them.”
“How was she recruited?”

Then they realize I’m awake and start talking in a hushed tone. I recognized the voice of the person arguing to drug me up some more, but I was in denial as to who it was. Then that particular voice shows his face to me; it was who I thought it was: my Platoon Commander, Major Pog.

“Sir!” I yelled, “Sir, get me out of here! Please! We need to get Captain McDonal!”
“Shut the fuck up, airman, you’re not getting your Captain and we will rape and torture you until you submit,” he snapped.
I started crying, “ALVARO! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! YOU’RE MY MAJOR!”
Then he looked like he snapped out of a daze, looked around, and mouthed to me, “Don’t worry, Kerkman. I got it.”

He injected me with another needle, then when I came to, my eyes were glued open and I was watching videos of women getting tortured and raped with industrial musicians in the background that were saying words I couldn’t understand. But, they weren’t just women, they were women who were photoshopped with creepy special effects that made them look like me. They had all of my tattoos, and they even picked ones who had the same-ish body type as me. But, I knew that it wasn’t me. They would ask me all the time who that was and I would say that I didn’t know. They were getting pissed. The only thing that got me through this was trying to remember my favorite punk rock songs and thinking about my mission: save my Captain.

I don’t know how long they did this to me, but Maj. Pog helped me figure out that I had to admit that the women were me in order to get them to stop. As I was starting to submit, my conciousness would go in and out. Before I knew it, I was another zombie in the room.

But not for long. All of a sudden I’m standing in a formation and I see Capt. McDonal asking people in the formation what the Air Force motto was. The ones who couldn’t answer were beaten, and if they still couldn’t answer, they were executed. Capt. McDonal came up to me and asked me what my motto was.

“Libertatem Defendimus, Billy,” I said in a monotonous voice, eyes straight forward.
“Oh shit. It’s Libertatem Defendimus, Kerkman,” he whispered to me.
“Libertatem Defendimus!”

Then he moved onto the next candidate and figured out that he had to kill the people who couldn’t answer the questions. He ended up killing a lot of people, and that really fucked him up. I kept on thinking, “Grab their rank, grab their rank, be objective, grab their rank, get into our formation.” Before the survivors were moved off into the next round of torture, he grabbed the rank of one of the people he killed and got into formation with me. My mind was more at ease, but I fell back out of conciousness again as we filed it off into a large theater which reminded me of the theaters they had us file it in to in boot camp.

I’m not aware of what they made us watch, but there were about 100 survivors and I have no idea how many were killed. I can only assume we were watching videos of combat and/or the way we were supposed to pass our next test. I came back to conciousness as I heard a man talking in front of all of us say one name:

“I’m… You don’t need to know my first name, last name is good: Rockefeller, or Rothschild, whichever you prefer. It doesn’t matter,” he continued, “hopefully you paid attention to what you just watched or else you’re gonna die.”

I started to get nervous because I didn’t know what we watched and he sensed it.

“Oh, looks like someone’s awake. Hm. Well, maybe I should give you a brief about what you’re going to endure coming up here next so you’ll at least have a chance of surviving.”
I thought, “Is he talking directly to me?”
“Yes, I am talking directly to you,” he responded.
I’m still thinking in my head, “Well, I am going to survive, motherfucker. I’m a fucking Marine.”
Then he started laughing, “And you’re the only one that’s going to. You’re the only one who passed the test.”
“We are all Marines?” I’m STILL thinking in my head.
“Nope, you’re the only Marine in here. Everyone else has been turned into airmen.”

Now I’m looking around for Capt. McDonal and he’s sitting right in front of me, staring straight forward and I don’t give a shit about what’s going to happen to me next. I grabbed his shoulder and yelled at him to wake up. All of a sudden I’m standing out of my chair and Capt. McDonal is yelling at me to stare straight forward and not to think anything.

“I guess I was wrong,” Rockefeller said, “two of you are going to survive. Looks like your mission was accomplished. Now you don’t need a brief. Get all of them in the chamber.”

We filed it off into a room with what looked like sprinklers on the ceilings. All of a sudden the troops started choking and dropping to the ground with blood coming out of their noses. As this was happening, I remembered what we watched so I told Capt. McDonal to get down, but he fell back out of conciousness and started to choke. I ran at him and tackled him to the ground. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t able to move. Everyone died except for the two of us, then the chamber door opened to another room with three doors. I dragged my Captain to the room and remembered which door to open to get to the next room of doors. It was a fucking mouse test.

This door test took the longest, each door had an intense obstacle you had to pass in order to get to the next set of doors. I stopped at what I thought was the middle to rest because I forgot the door I was supposed to open and I almost killed both of us from opening the wrong door. I was losing it.

“BILLY! BILLY WAKE THE FUCK UP! I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP BILLY! I’M FUCKING DYING HERE.”

I slapped him and shook him, but he wasn’t waking up. I was so exhausted from carrying him through the doors that I started to fall asleep next to him as I was crying. I wasn’t going anywhere without him; I felt like I failed as a Marine. I’d lost all hope. Right before I fell asleep, Rockefeller came into the room.

“I guess it is only one of you who survived. This was your last room. It’s time for you to come with me. He is staying here.”
I woke up real fast, “No. I will fucking kill myself without him. You will not take me anywhere without him. He is still alive.”
“We can’t allow him to come. It is impossible.”
“Ok, I’ll kill myself then.”
“Oh really, and just how will you kill yourself? You don’t have a weapon.”
“I’ll just open up the wrong fucking door,” then I got up, ran to one of the doors, and put my hand on the door knob.
“STOP!”
“He’s coming with.”
He was getting frantic, “We can’t do that. He’s brain dead. Please don’t open that door. It’s a bomb.”
“Well, good. We’ll all die then. You’re talking to someone who already thinks she’s dead,” I twisted the handle.
“OK OK! WE’LL FIX HIM! WE HAVE A CURE FOR IT! HE’LL BE OK! JUST DON’T FUCKING OPEN THAT DOOR!”
“And you’re gonna cure everyone else who’s brain dead then.”

Then a bunch of people stormed into the room and I don’t remember a lot that happened after that besides being tranquilized and yelling that I would do whatever it took to keep my Captain alive. There were a lot of strange things that happened post-mouse test that I cannot even begin to describe; things that are beyond my comprehension at the highest level of control in the world. That’s all you need to know about it. I’m still dealing with the processing of those memories and am not at liberty to expose them. (Lady Bug)

The next thing I really remember, though, was being on a fucking cargo plane with a bunch of people in Air Force BDUs, not knowing where we were going or what was happening. The first thing I did was look around for Capt. McDonal and, to my fucking amazement, he was sitting there with his rifle, but still staring forward like everyone else: a fucking zombie. I got up and ran to him, started saying his name, singing our favorite punk rock songs. Nothing was working, so I kissed him.

“Woah… Kerkman? What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping you could tell me, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir, it’s Billy.”
“Don’t call me Kerkman, it’s Cassandra.”
“Deal. Hold on a second, let me figure this out. You gotta go back to your seat and stare straight forward.”

So, I did what I was told and sat there waiting for a response.

“We’re being deployed, Cassie.”
“To where?”
“Africa.”

I put my head in my lap, fucking tired as fuck and he yelled at me that I needed to sit up and stare straight forward or else I was going to die.

“I don’t care,” I started, “You’re alive. That’s all I care about.”
“I’m not going to be if you’re not, motherfucker.”

I sat up and stared straight forward.

“Fuck it,” he said, “I don’t care if I die either.”

So he came over to me, kissed me, and we held eachother until we landed in Somalia.

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Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Update)

blackbeard

Due to the emotional toils of writing Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society, I will be taking a break for an unspecified amount of time. I woke up this morning with a numb arm again from the adrenaline induced by reliving the deployment I suffered in Africa, so this break is due to my health — no more, no less.

I realize that the emotion in the recent chapters I’ve been writing applies to nearly everyone who has read it. I am currently having troubles with my e-mail inbox so I’m having a hard time receiving the e-mails everyone is sending me looking for advice and giving unwanted advice. So, let me address some of these issues upfront.

1. If you are in an abusive relationship, leave. Come up with an attack plan and an escape route. Get the fuck out of there. Every human being has the strength within themselves to save their own lives and the lives of others.
2. If you somehow think that a man and a woman cannot consensually agree to a love affair and help eachother cope with abuse, you’re wrong.
3. Death threats are funny.
Hollywood: Marines are everywhere. Just sayin’.
For the Others: you fuckers are the ones who sent me to Africa. MY mission has been accomplished, assholes. Good thing you guys trained me so well, huh? Fuck you. Punk rock saved my life. You didn’t consider that in your recruitment, did you? HA! Pretty soon all of my Marines will be listening to the angsty words and loud, fast guitars of my most favoritest punk rock bands…. And there will be a punk rock revival amongst the Troops. ^_^ Good luck hanging onto your Candidates, bitchessssss!!! LCB & Casualties Army, first and foremost, motherfuckers.


Later I will be covering:

VII: Flashbacks
VIII: Headed to the Streets
VIIII: The Insurgency
X: Return from Pizza Planet

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Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Chp VI: Heart Attack)

At least I had planned on not sleeping. Around 1000, my adrenaline levels had sunk to a life-threatening low. I passed out next to PJ who tried to wake me up about an hour later. The story as to what happened to me after that is by account of the people who helped me that day.

When PJ woke me up, I couldn’t feel my arms and my speech was slurred. He was panicking, and I told him to slap me to get my heart going, so he did, and that worked until we could think of a plan. Although I was disoriented, I remembered that my Sergeant Lukas had suffered an adrenaline heart attack when he was serving in Iraq. He told me that the ground units (infantry, grunts, grunties, etc.) receive a steady supply of Rip It Energy Fuel to keep them alive after multiple firefights, straight from the supplier. They help to keep the heart beating after your adrenal gland runs out of juice. In the Marine Corps, these life-saving drinks are just affectionately referred to as Rip Its. We had a few packs of them in the house, and I mumbled out the word, “Rip” and PJ knew exactly what to do. He ran to the kitchen, and grabbed three cans of Rip Its. When he was gone, I was crying for him not to leave me and he was yelling that he was going to be right back. He flew back into the room.

“I don’t want those… Sleep.” I slurred.
“Hell fucking no. You are fucking drinking this shit!”

I turned away from him, so he grabbed my shoulder, held me down, opened my mouth and poured the drink into my mouth. I kept on spitting it out, but I was gaining control over my arms as I was getting pissed at him for pouring the energy drinks on me and holding me down.

“THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN FUCKING GOOD SWEETPEA!”
“FUCK YOU! I JUST WANT TO FUCKING SLEEP!” I yelled.
He poured all three cans in my mouth until I choked, and I regained some sort of normal consciousness.

“Baby girl, are you back?”
“What the fuck just happened?”
“OK! Phew, I thought I was gonna lose you.”

He hugged me real tight.

“Why do I have Rip Its all over me?”
“You were about to have a heart attack, sweetpea.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Let’s go take a shower.”
“Baby, I just want to sleep. I didn’t sleep all night last night because I thought I was gonna lose you.”
“You gotta tell me about that because I don’t remember.”
“I’m having a hard time remembering right now, but I just want to sleep.”
“…… You want to sleep in piss and energy drinks?”
“Well, I’ve slept in worse,” I laughed.
“Let’s go take a fucking showerrrrrr!!!”

I looked at the clock.

“HOLY SHIT BABY YOU’RE LATE!”
“I really don’t give a fuck. I’m gonna be even more late if we don’t take a shower.” He smiled at me because he knew that was the only way he was getting me in the shower.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and we got in the shower. He told me it was gonna have to be cold but I wasn’t getting in. I was falling back into the low-adrenaline stupor, so he picked me up and put me into the cold shower which helped take me out of it. Then I got used to the cold water and started again. He had to wash my hair and body ’cause I was fighting about doing it and he was trying to keep me in there. To get my heart going, he even tried to fake a seizure. He did a good job at it, but it didn’t work.

“You don’t even care I was having a seizure?!”
“You can’t fake the sound of a grand mal seizure,” I was staring straight forward and talking in a monotonous voice,”the screeching sound created by all of the air being released from the vocal cords can only happen when all of the muscles in your body are–”

Then I fell asleep in the shower, and he had to slap me to wake me up again. I fought to stay asleep in the shower, so he had to pick me up and put clothes on me. I atleast had enough wits about me to drink another Rip Its before he had to leave, but I still tried to go back to sleep on the bed. It’s a good thing I’m so little ’cause he had to grab me and pick me up to bring me out to the couch. That’s when he assessed the damage that was done the night before. This can of Rip Its was doing the job and I was starting to remember what happened.

“Baby, you’re gonna be late for that drug test.”
“Well, I already told them I was dating a Marine so I’m pretty sure they’re not gonna shoot me,” he giggled, “besides, I have to get some new furniture. We literally destroyed everything. I’ll just let them know I’m gonna be late! That’s what you always did didn’t — woah woah woahhhhhh!”

I started to fall back asleep.

“Baby girl! Hold on a second!”
“Baby, I just want to sleep. I drank the energy drink. I’m pretty sure I’m good for now. Can’t you just wake me up to drink another one after you get the furniture sorted out?”
“Yes, but I just have to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did I ask you to marry me last night?”
I smiled, “Yes.”

He got upset.

“But I probably would have done the same thing if I was in your position,” I smirked
“I just– I didn’t– FUCK!”
“I know you didn’t want to ask me like that baby.”

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I was just happy that was the only thing he remembered.

“That’s the only thing I remember, but I just can’t remember what you said.”
“I said, ‘Some day, but we have to get divorced first.'”
He started laughing, “I have to get a couple divorces.”
“That’s what you said!”

He kissed me.

“That didn’t count. I’m gonna do it again, just you wait.”
“I know…..”

Then my mind started wandering to the divorce I was going to have to try to get, and I started crying.

“You’re gonna get rid of him, baby girl. Just like I’m gonna get rid of these swine.”
“Then we can run away and live in box cars on trains like gypsies?!!”
“Yes we can, Esmarelda.”

I kissed him again.

“Um… Can I take a nappiepooz now?”
“Yeah, I gotta take care of some things.”
“Ok, love you bye.”

I fell right asleep, but it kind of freaked him out that I said bye, so he woke me up again just to make sure I was still alive. I pushed him away from me and he started laughing. It took him a while to secure the furniture because they wouldn’t let him buy it over the phone, so he had to call like 10 different places because they didn’t believe it was him. I woke up ’cause I heard him yelling at some people.

“Baby, what’s going on?”
“HOLD ON A SECOND!”
“Oookkkkk….”

Then I started listening to the conversation and realized he was still trying to get the furniture. So, he had to hang up, call the fuckers administering the drug test and tell them that he didn’t give a fuck if they didn’t care about the furniture in his house because military police give a fuck about the shipment and he wouldn’t mind giving them a call. I was thinkin’, “That’s my man. Hehehe.” He was having a hard time figuring it out.

“Baby…. Just call my Marines.”
“Why?”
“Because you can give them the money, and they can go get the furniture. Just make sure you pay them for doing it or else I’m gonna get pissed,” then I started going on a tangent, “‘Staff Sergeant is moving houses. We need 10 Marines to help SSgt with his furniture.’ ‘Are we gonna get paid for it, Sgt?’ ‘HELL FUCKING NO!’ ‘Fuck, at least we can get out of–‘”
“Ok ok, I get it. But your phone is dead and we can’t charge it.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I have my,” I reach into my purse, and take out my wallet to brandish the Marine Corps’ super secret weapon, “RECALL ROSTER!!”
He burst out in laughter, “What in the fucccckkk!? You guys are really prepared for anything aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I had a big smile on my face as he handed me another Rip Its, “I love Rip Its! You have to call–”
“Yes, I know, I have to call Sgt Lukas.”
“And Adam.”
“Sweetpea…. Adam is in Los Angeles.”
“He’ll come. He’s my best friend…. But I don’t have–”
“I’ll get it. I know where he lives.”
“Um…..?”
“You made me drop you off there, remember?”
“Oh yeah!”

He calls Sgt Lukas.

“Let me talk to him because he hasn’t–”
“Hello! Is this Sgt Lukas?”
I heard him on the other line, “Who the fuck is this?”
“Jack Holiday, look. I have something–”
“WHERE THE FUCK IS KERKMAN, MOTHERFUCKER?! I know you’ve been seeing her, and WHEN I find you, I’m gonna fucking–”

He started on one of his Sgt Lukas death threat rants, so I snatched the phone away from from PJ.

“Sgt, it’s me.”
“KERKMAN! What in the fuck are you doing Kerkman? What in the fuck kind of commi–”
“DON’T you fucking talk to me about fucking committment, Sgt of Marines,” I started, “THAT FUCKER TRIED TO FUCKING KILL ME! AND HE THREATENED TO KILL ME MORE THAN ONCE BEFORE! HE FUCKING SHOT AT ME WITH A SHOT GUN AND I’M LUCKY I MADE IT OUT WITH JUST A GRAZED SHOULDER! If you’re with him, Sgt, he’ll probably try to kill you too.”
He laughed his pissed off laughter, “You know how that would go down, Kerkman.”
“Yes I do, Sgt. We need your help.”
“Ok, but I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

He hung up. The husband was trying to divide my Sgt and I, but that would never happen. He and I went through some shit together, and he would always believe me over even anyone else in our own goddamn unit. What kind of idiot tries to kill a Marine and then goes and hides out at another Marine’s house? I thought.

“Why in the fuck would he go to another Marine after he just tried to kill his Cpl?”
“I know, right? Goddamn I made a mistake, didn’t I?”
“To say the least.”

We both started laughing, but we still hadn’t gotten anywhere. At least we had a plan.

“Baby girl, I gotta go.”
I let all the air out, “I know. You’ve been here for too long.”
“I fucking hate them,” his eyes started to water, “I don’t want to fucking leave you here by yourself.”
“Baby, look, I’ll stay awake for as long as I can,” I grabbed another Rip Its even though I was already pissed off that the husband even tried to get my Sgt on his side. “It’s kind of like being on heart attack duty.”
“Every. Single. Thing.” he couldn’t stop laughing.
“If you fall asleep, you die! If you don’t drink Rip Its, you die! I got it.”
“You know what? I think I have some people to call too. And! You already love them.”
“Ooo! Is it a surprise!?”
“Yes it is.”
“Baby, you gotta go. It’s a long drive.”
“Hunny bunny,” he looked up into the air with a smile on his face, “I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m fucking loaded with money. I don’t drive to Los Angeles.”
“Oh! You take the train!” I mocked.
“You always have something — Oh, you’re gonna get it. Just you wait. I also have to go to court and shit, but I’m going to come back and–”
“I’ll wait.” I smiled, and pushed him to the door as we were making out, “Go! Naughty man.”
“Alright alright. I already love you the mostest!” he yelled on his way to the car.
“No you don’t!”
“Yes I do!”
“No! I love you the mostestest!”
“Nah uh!”

He got in the car. Damnit, he always gets in the car before I can say anything, I thought. He looked at me and mouthed, “I win!” as he laughed, pulling out of the driveway. He’s gonna get it.

I pulled out a piece of paper to start mapping out our attack plan with the forced heroin distribution. I figured out that the line test that they take measures how much of the herion is in their system, so if you keep a steady flow of it throughout the week, in smaller dosages, you don’t suffer as badly when they make you “Take 2.” “I’ll be damned if we go through this again,” I said as I started to fall asleep again, but I caught myself. Time to get the blood pumping. I drank some more Rip Its and started picking up the house. I washed the bed sheets and cleaned the mattress, but in the midst of my cleaning, I forgot to drink the Rip Its, so I grabbed a can, and stumbled over to the couch, but I passed out before I could get it open.

I woke up to people coming in the house, and I couldn’t recognize them.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”
“It’s me, Kerkman, Sgt Lukas.”
“You’re not fucking SGT LUKAS!”

I grabbed the ka-bar PJ bought me for my birthday, and attacked him, but I shoulda known better that he wasn’t gonna show up to a fucked up disoriented Marine by himself. Sgt Lukas, Sgt Kokesh, and Gunnery Sgt Gusman all rushed me at once as I tried to fight off all three of them. GySgt Gusman and Sgt Lukas held me down while Sgt Kokesh ran to the kitchen, grabbed the Rip Its and forced me to drink it. My wits started to come about me as they poured the second can down my throat.

“ADAM WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“CASS SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DRINK THIS FUCKING SHIT!”
“Who the FUCK ARE YOU TWO?!” I looked at the Marines holding me down again, “Sgt Lukas? GySgt Gusman? What are you guys doing here? Why are you holding me down?”
Sgt Lukas started laughing, “You tried to kill me, Kerkman.”
“And you almost did,” GySgt Gusman was pissed, “What kind of Marine attacks her own goddamn SGT?!”
“I didn’t want to kill you Sgt,” I started crying, “I would never kill you Sgt.”
Adam was laughing and I was getting pissed, “Cass, you’re in attack mode right now. You couldn’t even stop yourself.”
“YOU WENT TAD KERKMAN!” Sgt Lukas yelled at me.
I looked off into the distance, “What?…. I did go TAD……….”
“Fuck….” GySgt Gusman said, “Yes you did, Kerkman. I’m sorry.”
I smiled at him, “It’s OK, GySgt, you were just tryin’ to get my heart pumpin’. Why are you always wearing Oakleys? Always hiding those pretty eyes.”

That made him feel better. He gave me his GySgt Gusman smile as Sgt Lukas and Sgt Kokesh picked me up and put me on the couch. GySgt and Sgt Lukas went to go get the furniture while Adam stayed and looked after me.

TAD stands for Temporary Assignment Duty. All Marines can be sent TAD at any time to any duty station and any country where the US has a military base. When I was a Lance Corporal, a SSgt Julio Jimenez came up to me and told me I had TAD orders.

“For how long, SSgt?”
“It doesn’t fucking MATTER, Kerkman. Just do what you’re fucking told. We’re going to fucking fix that shit.”
“SSgt, where am I going?”
“To your barracks room and getting all of your CIF gear in order. You’ll receive a brief once you have all of your gear packed.”
“Aye SSgt,” I went to leave, headed to the barracks, “Dick.”

I got into my room, opened up my gear locker, pulled out my ILBE pack, dumped all the shit out, and started to take accountability for everything. Before I could even put my phone on the charger, my barracks room door opened and five “Marines” I’d never seen before charged into the room. I tried to fight them off, but they had me cornered. They pinned me down and shoved a needle of some heavy narcotics into my arm. I passed out.

Due to the abuse I suffered throughout my childhood, I have a high tolerance for opiates, and they underestimated me. I woke up as they were trying to figure out how to get me out. When I’m out, I weigh somewhere between 200 and 300 pounds of dead weight, but when I’m conscious, I weigh 145. That confused the shit out of them, but I laid there and pretended I was still out until they were able to pick me up and bring me outside. As they were becoming complacent, I kicked them off of me, they dropped me, and I ran for my car ’cause I still had the keys in my pocket. They took off after me, and I didn’t have a chance being all doped up, but at least I outsmarted the fuckers.

I don’t remember anything that happened to me after they stuck me with another needle in the van. All I remember is waking up in my barracks room and going to work as usual. A girl I worked with, LCpl Ineptas, came up to me that day with a smile on her face, “Kerkman! You’re back! How was your PTAD, Kerkman? Did you get anyone to join?”

“What?”
“You were gone for a month.”
“No I wasn’t, I was just at PT yesterday.”
“You’re crazy, Kerkman. We missed you, and you didn’t leave instructions for how to print off the Rough Roll.”
“Well, SSgt Dickhead told me to……” I started to remember, “Ineptas, did they tell you where I was going?”
“They said you were on recruiter’s assistance!”
“I wasn’t on recruiter’s assistance, Ineptas.”
“Then you were UA. You have to show up at your recruiter’s–”
“Shut the fuck up about it, Ineptas. You don’t know what the fuck happened to me. I don’t even know what happened to me.”

I went outside to smoke a cigarette, trying to figure out what happened. Unbeknownst to me, while I was outside, she tried to tell SSgt Jimenez that I didn’t show up at my recruiter’s office to try to get me charged with Unauthorized Absence. She came outside in the middle of my cigarette.

“Kerkman…. I gotta tell you something. I’m sorry but I went to tell SSgt Jimenez that you didn’t show up to recruiter’s assistance and he started yelling at me.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that I needed to mind my own goddamn business. Then I told him that I needed to report it because if I didn’t then I would get in trouble. Then he started laughing, and said, ‘If you just would ask LCpl Kerkman, she would tell you that she went TAD to Quantico.'”
“What?”
“He told me that you were doing training with officers.”
“They did some fucked up shit to me, Ineptas.”
“What kind of training were you doing? ‘Cause he said I was going to do it too.”
“I don’t remember.”
“What do you mean you don’t remember?”
“Ineptas, you gotta tell them that you don’t want to do that training.”
“I can’t, then I would get bad marks on my pros and cons.”
“PROS AND CONS DON’T MATTER! YOUR LIFE FUCKING MATTERS!”
“What is your problem, Kerkman?”
“You gotta care more about your own self than your meaningless Marine Corps conduct marks.”
“But I wanna get meritoriously promoted to Cpl.”

I sighed, looked at her, and pulled out another cigarette, “Tell them I’ll be in there in a minute. I’m having some bad flashbacks.” I sat there in silence.

Adam was watching me as all of these memories were coming back and the tears started rolling down my face.

“Cass,” he sighed as he held me, “they do it to all good Marines.”
“But nobody considered me a good Marine at the time!” I wailed.
“How were your rilfe scores?”
“High.”
“4’s and 5’s, right?”
“Yes.”
“And what about combat training?”
“I fucking ruled that shit. I hit 3 out of 4 targets with the grenade launcher, every target with the SAW, completed MVG training twice, lead an ambush. I even shot one of the combat instructors when we were doing our paintball combat simulation. I did it all with two broken feet and a fucked up hip. I even fucking threw the grenade the farthest out of my platoon.”
“Cass…. that means they were planning on doing this to you before you even left combat training, probably even boot camp.”
“But I fucked off prequal.”
“And then you scored high on qual, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s when they spotted you. They keep an eye on recruits who stand out from the rest to be made into their Candidates.”
“Did they–”
“Yup, they did it to me too, and I spent most of my career trying to find out how they did it. I was even going to reenlist because I didn’t find all of the answers.”
“Is that why you didn’t remember–”
“Yup, I didn’t remember the pistol, and that’s how they got me kicked out because they figured out what I was doing.” He frowned.
I smiled at him, “That’s some fucking journalism right there.”

He laughed then started to get upset again as I opened up another Rip Its.

“Adam, I’m sure you did everything you could to cover your tracks. One of the Marines you trusted told somebody didn’t they?”
“I FUCKING SAVED THAT FUCKER’S LIFE!!!”

Tears started to roll from his eyes, so I crawled onto his lap and held him. Once he calmed down, he realized I was sitting on his lap and started laughing.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this, Cass.”
“PJ won’t mind.”
He smiled, “He told me he’d kill me if I slept with you.”
I started laughing, “He was just saying that to scare you. Plus, I wouldn’t sleep with you unless he was there, one. And two, he wouldn’t kill you ’cause he knows how much I love you.”
He looked around. “You’re right. But you should still…”
“I got you, I got you.”

I got off of his lap and stared at the jar of weed.

“Nope,” he said as he grabbed it.
“I know. Goddamnit! I just want to smoke a blunt. This shit sucks.”
“I’m hiding this from you, you stoner.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”

As he was stowing the jar away, GySgt and Sgt Lukas showed up with the furniture.

“I gotta help them,” he said.

I got up to go and help too, but Sgt Lukas picked me up and put me back on the couch.

“Hell no, Kerkman.”
“But I want to HELP SGT! I can’t just sit here and –”
“No, you’re just gonna sit there and look pretty while we lift all of this heavy stuff for you.”
“Fine.”

He gave me a kiss on the cheek, and that got my heart goin’ again. Haha. Sgt Lukas always had a way of doing that.

As they were finishing bringing in the furniture, PJ came home.

“BABY!” I ran to him and gave him a big hug.
“Hi sweetpea, you’re hugging me too hard baby girl.”

He showed me the gauze where the bullet wound was. I yelled and went to punch a hole in the wall, but he stopped me.

“We gotta work on that anger, naughty woman.”
“BABY! I AM GOING TO LOSE MY SHIT! THEY JUST FUCKING GRAZE YOU TO PUT YOU IN PAIN!”
He sighed, “I know. But at least they give me pain killers!”
“Honey, that is not funny right now.”
“But I’m your funny hunny.”

That made me laugh. Adam emerged from putting the kitchen together and PJ stared him down.

“Be nice, baby. We didn’t do anything.”
“I know. Him and I established that, didn’t we Adam?”
“Yes we did.” he said
I stared at PJ, “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing!” he smiled.
“That’s between PJ and I, Cass.”
“Whatever. I’m not worried about it, I’ll find out one way or another.”
“Yes you will, sweetpea, but not from Adam. Right Adam?”
Adam smiled, “That’s right.”

I stared off into space.

“No, you cannot smoke any weed baby girl.”

I pouted.

“Nope.”
“I just fucking remembered that I’m a fucking manchurian candidate, goddamnit. I just want to SMOKE A FUCKING BLUNT!”
“Maybe later, sweetpea. I won’t ask you about that.”
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Deal.”

The guys just got done putting everything together, and they came to tell us they had to go.

“What? Can’t you stay for dinner or something?”
“Kerkman, we can’t,” started GySgt, “We–”
“You gotta get back to your ladies for dinner…..”
“They’re not fucking ladies, Kerkman,” GySgt snapped, “you’re the only lady in this goddamned world.”
“Oh, I love you GySgt.”

I gave him a hug, then I gave all of them a hug as they walked out the door.

“SEMPER FIDELIS!” I yelled. Then I got a bark and an oorah from all of ’em, and PJ said goodbye. I turned to PJ, “I love my Marines, baby.”
“So do I, baby girl. We need to go over what happened last night.”
“You don’t have to go back!?”
“Nope… But I am gonna get into some trouble ’cause I missed court.”
“Oops…..”
“Uncontrollable circumstances.”
“Oohhhhhh niiiiiice.”

We ate dinner, while I gave him the whole story of what happened the night before and he told me everything that happened this morning. I eventually was able to tell him what happened to me in the Marine Corps, and that upset him.

“Well, at least you have super human strength!” he said.
“Seriously.”
“That must be how you punched such a big hole in the wall.”
“Haha, it probably is…. Baby, do you have to–”
“Nope.”
“Ok, well, I know this is fucked up but I think you should anyway.”
“WHAT?!”
“Just hear me out. Ok, so if you keep a steady flow of the shit in your bloodstream, not only does that increase your tolerance level for when they try to kill you like last night, but it also gives you a way to be able to handle the moodiness.”
“Ok, but it’ll turn me into a zombie.”
“Not if you take small doses at a time. It’ll be like popping a vicodin when you have…. a fucking…. bullet wound.”
“Huh…” he sat there and thought for a minute.
“I don’t know the ins and outs so I wouldn’t know how much the smaller dose would have to be in order to equal out the line test.”
“It’s a blood test, sweetpea.”
“Even better!” I smiled, “You’d probably have to start with the smallest amount possible, and work your way up to your regular small dose so you can function. You’d have to be careful of the addiction side of it though. It’s like…. acting sober while on acid.”
“Haha! That’s hard to do.”
“Not if you know you’re in control of the drug. You’d probably also have to find a way to get it from someone else because they probably give you a controlled amount.”
“Yeah, they do, but it’s not hard to find more than that in that fucked up city. How come I never thought of this?”
“Because you’ve never felt in control of it before.”
“This is true. Hm. Oh yeah! Your surprise, you’re gonna get it tomorrow instead.”
“Haha. What is it?”
“Well, I was gonna have them scare the shit out of you, but now you’re gonna scare the shit out of them instead.”
“It’s a good thing they didn’t do that because I would have tried to kill them.”
“Yup…..” he looked at me in the eyes and turned to me, “sweetpea, I gotta talk to you about something.”
“Yes?”
“You just told me about all of this abuse that you suffered in the Marine Corps, and yet you still have this motivation about you that gives those people more power over you and other veterans.”
“I know. It’s hard to control, baby, especially when most of your adult life was spent in the institution.”
“I know, it’s just like they make you into these hardcore killing machines and it never leaves you.

I put my head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.

“It’s just, I see this anger that you can’t control, but you never take it out on the people you love, you take it out on yourself.”
I was crying, “And walls…..” I sniffled, “It just makes me feel alive. Like, without it I’m just wondering who the fuck I am. That’s why I smoke so much weed…. to calm me down.”
“I know baby girl. You neeeed that shit. Haha. You’re Cassandra Kerkman, but Cpl Kerkman will never leave you. You need her to protect yourself and the people you love.”
“And that’s one of the reasons why every individual Marine is loved. It’s not about the institution, it’s about the buddies to the left and right of you who are watching your back…. Even though some of them just act like it….” I sighed, “But it’s those Marines who are there for you when you get out and help support you when you’re dealing with the same fucked up shit that you know you can always trust…….. I’ll always protect you baby.”
“And I’ll always protect you baby girl.”

We began to kiss, and he went to go pick me up to bring me into the bedroom but he forgot about the wound.

“It’s kind of hard to–”
“Oh, I’ll just go take some Vicodin.”

We laughed, made love, and PASSED THE FUCK OUT!

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Filed under Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society

Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Chp V: Diagnosis)

PJ’s divorce was being finalized during the time that we were staying in our super secret hideout, so he had to constantly leave to go to court and deal with the finalization of the movie he was working on. It kind of sucked being at the house by myself, but it gave me time to reflect on the shitty situation I just left and come up with a plan as to how in the hell I was going to leave that situation.

I ended up going back to my apartment to grab a few things while the husband was away at work. However, when I went there it looked like he had left in a hurry. There was food on the table and a half full bottle of liquor which confused the hell out of me. I figured he was running away from the cops, so I didn’t know how long it was going to be until he got back. I grabbed my things and got the hell out of there.
When PJ got home from doing his thing, he was always distraught and I tried to help him feel better but it was hard for him to come out of the funk he was in. Dealing with the divorce and the long drive while I was at home alone really toiled on his mind. I reminded him all the time that the Marines in my unit were always looking out for me and even when you can’t see them, they are always there. “We are camouflage, you know,” I’d say. That made him feel a little better but these people that he was concerned about really affected his mood.

“Are you sure your wife doesn’t know about this place?” I asked.
“I did everything I could to hide it, but you can never be sure.”
“This is true. Are there any financial transactions that she would be able to find?”
“SHE wouldn’t be able to find them, but I’m sure THEY would be able to do some –”
“Some fucked up shit with the bank and the government?”
“Yup. They have control over the money they deposit in our bank accounts.”
“So, you’d have to –”
“Yup, I’d have to make some INVESTmentsssssss!”
“HAHA! Oh man, that transfers the capital over to the private individual.”
“Yes it does, sweetpea.”
“You’re a genius my love.”
“Manipulating theeeee marketttttt!! Ha! haha.”

I started looking around, wondering what the investments were. You can’t just keep something like that away from an economics nerd.

“Don’t worry sweetpea, I have my portfolio right here.” He slapped it on the table.
“Ooooooo!!! Profit margins…….”
“Are you sure you don’t care about money?” he smirked.
“Shut up, asshole. I care about market –”
“Yes, I know, you care about market manipulation. Economics doesn’t have anything to do with money.”
“You’re gonna get it.”
“We have to go through this portfolio first!” he let out a naughty evil laugh, “Here, you look at it. I know you know what you’re looking at, I’ll be right back.”

I didn’t even hear what he said because I was too busy looking at the portfolio and getting the blunt ready to go over it with him. I got pissed at the graphs and shit, “Just show me the numbers!” I said. I found the numbers and went through them, but I still needed him to explain to me what the companies were all about. My phone was dead, and I wasn’t about to charge it either. So, I sat back, and finished the whole blunt. Now I’m wondering where my man went. I went to the bedroom and tried to walk in, but it was locked.

“Baby, are you alright?”
“Yes. Just…. hold on a second!”
“Why is the door locked?”
“I’ll be out in a minute!”

I jiggled the door knob again.

“Sweetpea, just. fucking. Go look at the portfolio!”
“I already did! The companies are in abbreviations so I wanted to know what they are!”
“Look them up!”
“I can’t my phone is dead.”
“Just…. Go smoke another blunt! I’ll be out in a minute!” he growled.

Alright, something weird is going on, I thought, I’m gonna fucking find out what it is. So, when he emerged from the den I just acted like nothing was wrong. He sat down next to me and I started asking him what they were. He got frustrated and embarrassed because he couldn’t remember what they were. “I always fucking remember. This is MY fucking portfolio!” He threw it up against the wall, and I went to go pick up the papers.

“Don’t fucking do that, baby girl. I got it.” He went to pick it up.
“Baby, what the fuck is going ON with you!?”
“I’m — I can’t — Hold on….” he sighed.

He got frustrated because they were all messed up and out of order, so he shoved the papers into the folder, threw it in the closet, and slammed the closet door. Now I’m pissed.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! Have some fucking PRIDE! THAT IS YOUR SHIT! YOU…” I calmed down ’cause he looked like a hurt Devil Dog, “Baby… You fucking beat the system, and you’re going to treat your accomplishments like they don’t MEAN anything to you?!”
“I just don’t feel like I’ve accomplished anything….” he looked off into the distance, “I’m sorry for freaking out. I feel like a dick.”
“Baby…” I’m trying not to get frustrated with him, “What the fuck is going on? What in the fuck were you doing in the bedroom? You were fine, and then you went and locked yourself in there, and then you emerged as an asshole.”

He sat there, trying to figure out how to tell me, and I already had an idea of what he was going to say.

“Ok,” I started, “Let’s go fix your accomplishments, and you can figure out how to tell me while we sort the papers out.”
“Baby girl, I’m fixing it. I fucked it up. I’m fixing it.”
“Alright, well, you can feel that way, but I want to help you.”

His frustration was building up again.

“Plus, I’m fucking the shit at organizing paperwork. I only did it for four years….” I smiled, “In the Marine Corps.”

He started laughing, and I felt like I got my man back.

“But there’s a certain way that it has to be organized with certain pages facing certain ways…”
“I’m a fast learner.”
“Well, I’m not a very good teacher, sweetpea.”
“Ok, then, I’ll smooth them out and put them in a pile, and you can put them where they belong. TEAMWORK!”

He always liked it whenever I got all moto with my language. He was an undercover motard, a Marine Corps boyfriend. Hehe.

“ALRIGHT!” he said, “Let’s do this!”

We stomped over to the closet, and took the shit out of there. He started looking at the paperwork and getting fucking pissed.

“I CAN’T FUCKING REMEMBER THE WAY THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ORGANIZED!!”
“Alright…… Let’s just put that back in the closet.”

He stopped and fucking stared at the papers like they were his worst enemy. So, I took them out of his hands, threw them in the closet, and slammed it shut. He looked like he was about to have a panic attack, so I hugged him tight and that calmed him down a lot. I was becoming very distraught because I just wanted him to be ok, so I looked up at him with tears in my eyes.

“Baby,” I sniffled, “What –”
He sighed, “Baby girl, I didn’t want you to see me like this…. I have an addiction.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Well, yes but no…. That’s not it. Well, it is, but — I’m having a hard time telling you.”
“Can you show me?”

He put his head down, grabbed my hand real tight, and brought me into the bedroom. He showed me the box with his supplies. Now, I might be well versed in psychedelics and weed, but I knew pretty much nothing about narcotics. I stayed away from the junkies in the punk rock scene and beat the shit out of them at the shows. Most of what I knew is what I read from Charles Bukowski and William S. Burroughs. They always wrote about the junkies in the streets and the dens, not in Hollywood. I stared in disbelief, trying to figure out what it was.

“It’s heroin baby girl…” he started to get upset.

Now I’m about to have a panic attack. I let it all out.

“YOU DON’T LIKE DOING THIS!”
“No…. I don’t.”
“THEY MAKE YOU FUCKING DO THIS! THEY FUCKING –” I yelled and punched a hole in the wall, “THEY FUCKING TREAT YOU LIKE A FUCKING PROSTITUTE!”

I went to punch another hole in the wall, but he stopped me and held me tight. We both started crying.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them baby,” I muttered.
“You just are just my littlest fiestiest little Marine,” he smiled.
“I am… I am and it’s only a matter of time before they find this place… and I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready to defend our home. They fucked with the wrong Marine’s man. They fucking did… I’ll fucking –”
“Baby girl, you sound like a crazy person.”
“Well! I am! Look at the hole I punched in the wall!” I laughed.
“Hooooly shiiiiiitttt…. That’s a big fucking hole for such a little hand! Is it broken?” he grabbed my hand to inspect it.
“Um…. No. I use the strongest point in my fist when I punch, with a lot of follow-through to back it up.”
“That’s my girl! Let’s go smoke some weed sweetpea.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

We smoked some weed, ate dinner, and sat around doing our usual antics. Then he got a text message and flipped his shit.

“What did they say to you baby?”
“I have a fucking drug test tomorrow.”
“Why are they administering a drug test if they want you to– oohhhhhh…..”
“Yeah. It’s to make sure we ARE doing them,” he gaffed, “you are such a Marine.”
“I gathered that….” I took another hit of the blunt, trying to figure out how to beat the system, “Do they tell you that you have a drug test?”
“In a really fucking creepy way.”
“Let me see it.”
“I can’t — I don’t want you to see–”
“I know about the other fucking text messages and I don’t give a shit. I know what you have to do. Just let me see it. I’m trying to figure out–”
“Ok, ok,” he sighed, “here.”

I took in a deep breath as he handed me the phone. The texts read:

Time to take ur medicine
I know u haven’t
Take 2 😉

I wanted to throw the phone across the room. He took it away from me.

“What do they do to you if you don’t do it?”
“Well, they either beat the shit out of you or they shoot you. Both have happened to me before.”
“FUCK!” I sat there and pondered the code, “Let me see the other texts.”
“Baby girl, they’re rrrreeeeeally going to piss you off.”
“Baby, I want to help you. I can handle it. THIS IS WAR!”
He laughed, “Just promise you won’t destroy the phone, please.”
“I promise.”
“Pinky swear?”
I held it up, “Pinky swear.”

We smiled at eachother, locked pinkies, and he went into the other room to get his shit. I took in another deep breath as I went to check the texts. There were a multitude of sexts and dirty talk text messages that really pissed me off. Most of the responses he gave were one word and the least amount of words possible. They were trying to get him to send them sexts that he didn’t want to send with threats from them of every kind. I wanted to put the phone down, then I heard my First Sergeant on my shoulder, “KEEP ON SEARCHING KERKMAN! YOU’RE A FUCKING MARINE! THEY ARE FUCKING SCUM! FIGURE IT OUT! YOU’RE IN THE FOG! THIS IS WAR! BE OBJECTIVE!” That motivated the shit out of me, so I sat there and started going through every text message objectively. He came out of the room.

“Baby girl….”
“YES?!”
“Damn you’re deep into that shit.”
“I AM FUCKING MOTIVATED!”
“I know that this is kind of fucked up but–”
“I AM HERE FOR YOU BABY! SIT DOWN NEXT TO ME AND DO YOUR SHIT! WE ARE AT WAR!”
He started laughing, “Oh, you are Hunter S. Thompson.”

I smiled and got back to business. He was doing his thing, and I was figuring out the code.

“They are really fucking grimey….”
“Yes they are….”

Just as I said that, I found their slip up.

“I FUCKING GOT IT!”
“Whaaaaaat?”

I showed him a conversation between this one person where he pissed them off, so they didn’t use code. They were talking about a shipment which was coming in “next week,” and said he was required to be there, “or else [he knows] what happens.”

“Fuck… I don’t even remember that conversation,” he mumbled.
“Well now you have it naughty. I would say it’s blackmail but they probably would just pay off the police. At least it’s something to cover your own– BABY ARE YOU OK?!”

He slumped over and was barely breathing. I laid him down on the couch and and began field resuscitation. I gave him three quick breaths, two chest pumps and continued to do so until he opened up his eyes and sat up.

“What just happened?”
I was in distress, “You just fucking OD’d baby!”

Now his adrenaline was rushing, it was keeping him alive. Then he started to fall back into it.

“Stay pissed off baby, it’s keeping you alive right now. GET PISSED OFF! THEY JUST TRIED TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”

He fucking got up and destroyed everything in his sight. I yelled words at motivation at him and told him to keep on punching shit til he could see bones through his knuckles. Then I got up and started destroying shit with him.

“FUCKING YELL! FUCKING SCREAM! THEY WILL NEVER KILL YOU!”
“THEY WILL NEVER FUCKING KILL ME!!!!”

We kept on going til there wasn’t really anything left to destroy. He was wiped out.

“Can we go lay down baby girl?”

I sat there and thought about it, then I heard my First Sergeant on my shoulder again, “He’s good! Good fucking job Marine!”

“Thanks First Sergeant,” I said.
“I’m not a First Sergeant.”
“I know, I was talking to First Sergeant. Let’s go lay down baby.”

We walked in the bedroom and laid down. We weren’t doing too good.

“Go get that blunt baby girl. You need it.”
“So do you!”

As I was getting up, he started to freak out.

“Baby girl don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me! I love you!”
“Baby, I’m not leaving you, I’m just going to get the blunt real quick and I’ll be right back.”
“You promise you’re not going to leave me?”
“I promise.”

I ran into the other room, grabbed the blunt, lit it up, and went back into the bedroom.

“You’re back! You were gone for so long….”
“Yes I am, but you probably shouldn’t smoke this. It would relax you too much.”
“You’re right,” he sighed, “You fucking need that anyway.”

I sat down next to him on the bed while he held me tight, then he started to go into epileptic shock. The husband had more than a few siezures due to his drug usage, so I knew what to do to calm him down. It wasn’t a grand mal seizure so I knew everything was gonna be ok. I put my hand on his face and looked into his eyes and assured him that I was right there and everything was going to be ok. I kept on telling him I loved him and that I would always be there for him. Then he stopped, looked at me, and told me I was the woman of his dreams. I held him tight on the bed and ran my finger through his hair until he fell asleep. I wasn’t fucking falling asleep, my pupils were the size of fucking basketballs and there was no way that adrenaline was going away any time soon. I went out to the couch, picked up a few things, rolled another blunt, and lit it up.

I need a plan, I thought, there must be some way that we can beat this system so this shit doesn’t happen again… Hm… What do we use to find and subdue the enemy?…. Fucking maps. What is a map?….. A diagram of the land where our position is and where the intel tells us where the enemy is. We have the intel. What is our position? What is our map?

As I was coming to the conclusion as to what we needed to do, I heard an ear-piercing screech coming from the bedroom. He was having a grand mal seizure. I’m pretty sure I fucking flew in there; his muscles were contracting and he was foaming at the mouth. I told him everything was gonna be ok and that I loved him as I was keeping him on the bed and making sure he didn’t choke. I went to call 911, but I couldn’t find his phone and mine was dead. As soon as I found his phone, he came out of it and went into post-epileptic confusion.

“Who are you?” he said
“I’m–”
“Are you an angel?”
“I’m your angel baby,” tears started to roll from my eyes.
“Am I dead?”
“No, but you almost died.”

He started to cry.

“You’re my baby girl.”
“Yes I am, naughty.”

He urinated while having the seizure, so I grabbed new shirt and underwear, a towel to put underneath him and a new blanket from the closet. He was mumbling in his confusion as I took his soiled clothes off of him, and put the new clothes on him, picked him up to put the towel underneath him, and laid the new blanket over him. I got into bed, held him, ran my fingers through his hair and lulled him out of his confusion.

“Baby girl…. Will you marry me?”
I smiled, “Some day. But I have to get divorced first.”
“So do I…. In a few different ways.”

We both started laughing as I sang him to sleep. I didn’t sleep that night, but I did have a lot of time to formulate a plan.

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Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Chp IV: Oh. Shit.)

When the husband came back home from work, it was like he had forgotten the whole thing. This lead me to suspect he had some kind of multi-personality disorder which was generated from the drugs he was doing throughout his life. He used cocaine at work to help him focus, then did heroin to equal out the effects of the cocaine to bring him to some strange state of being that was almost normal. I could never find the drugs, and I could never catch him doing it which helped me draw the conclusion that he was doing them at work and/or while I was sleeping.

Sometimes he was able to act like a decent human being and we were able to have fun together, but most of the time it felt forced. I was in a constant state of despair. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night and stare at me like he was thinking about ways to kill me. I had constant nightmares from the PTSD I had from my shitty upbringing and when I was living on the streets, and these always bothered him. It sent him into a frenzy where sometimes he would yell at me to go back to sleep, and other times he would hold me and tell me everything was going to be ok. Crazy making at its finest. The only time I felt happy was when I was at school causing a riot in the classroom, when I was working with Adam causing a riot on the internet, and when PJ and I were together causing a riot in the bedroom.

I was seeing less and less of him for what seemed like a looooong time, but it was only a couple of weeks. He was finishing up the film he was working on. The next time I saw him, he ran in and said, “Baby! baby! Wake up!” So I ran out of my room, grabbed my knife, and said, “WHO’S TRYING TO KILL US?!”

He laughed, “A lot of people, but not right now. You can put your weapon of opportunity away.”
“Oh, ” I smirked.
“I have great news, sweetpea.”
“What is it?! Oh! Are you –”
“Yes. I am done. With. That. Fucking. Movie.”
“Yayyyyyy!!!”

We danced around and hugged eachother real tight.

“But that isn’t the good news.”
“It isn’t?”
“Nope.”
“Then what is it?”
“The premier is coming up soon aaaaaaaaaand….” my eyes shined at him, “I want you! to come with me!”
“Awesome. HAhaha!!” I laughed an evil laugh.
He gave me the I-know-you’re-being-naughty look, “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing! I’m just excited to write about it.”
He looked confused, “That’s it?”
“Well, and of course being there with you at the premier silly.”
“Why do I feel like you’re planning something? Are you gonna rip up the movie?”
“Since when am I a critic?”
“Really sweetpea?”
“What?”
“You ARE a critic, you just criticise in your head rather than outloud.”
“Hehe. I do do that.”
“You do do.”
“Speaking of do do….”
“Yup, time to smoke some weeeeeeeed!!!!”

Things were a lot better when he was done with the movie. He was a lot happier and he was able to come down and see me more often, but the problem with that was the husband grew more and more suspicious and was treating me more like shit. I was worried about going to the premier because it didn’t coincide with the time that I spent at Adam’s house, I knew that PJ was coming to pick me up but I didn’t know when. He told me that he stayed at the hotel down the street when he came to see me so that incase anything happened, I could go to him and always gave me his room number. I was on break from school, and it wasn’t too long before my anxiety about the premier took over and I finally told the husband after I knew he had just gone and seen another prostitute.

“Next week, I’m going with Jack Holiday to his movie premier.”
“WHAT?!”
“He invited me to go, and I’m going, and I’m going to write about it, and you can’t stop me.”
“If you go to that premier, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to kill you.”
“You know what?! I’m sick and fucking tired of you threatening to kill me. You’re cheating on me, you always have been, and you know it. So it’s time to fess up and realize that we need to get a divorce.”

That set him off, and he went back into the bedroom. I heard the pump of a shotgun, and I know that sound. I had no idea he even had it, so I figured he bought it when he found out I was having an affair. I ran for the door. He had to have been fucked up because he shot, and he missed. I got hit by a few of the rounds, but it was on my arm, and I knew how to apply first aid. I’d seen PJ earlier that day, so I knew right where to go, but I was in shock from being shot at and I could barely hear anything. I barely made it to the hotel room and I couldn’t figure out where the fucking room was. I finally found it and I was crying.

“Baby, what are you doing here? Are you ok?”
“No! I told him I was going to the premier and that we should get a divorce and he fucking shot at me! I need one of those towels.”

He was in shock too ’cause I was bleeding pretty good from all the adrenaline rushing, so I told him he needed to apply pressure. I started to cry.

“I can’t go, I can’t go or else he’s gonna kill me.”
“Baby girl, I know. That bitch threatened to kill me too.”
“Where do I go? What do I do?”
“Let’s just calm down and figure this out…. You brought weed with you, didn’t you?” he smiled.
“Hehe, always prepared. But, you need to hold this here until I stop bleeding.”
“We need to get the round out.”

After a closer examination, we found that I was grazed and no makeshift surgery or rush to the hospital was needed.

“You’re doing awfully well for being shot at.”

I just looked at him with a smirk on my face.

“Oh yeah! How could I forget?”

We both started laughing and heard a pounding on the door. It was the husband, we peeked out the window and found that he had the gun. I ran for cover.

“Baby!!! Get down! He has a FUCKING weapon!!!”
“He’s not gonna shoot baby, he doesn’t have the balls.”
“NEVER UNDERESTIMATE YOUR OPPONENT!!”

He took cover.

“Don’t think about it, Bob. You don’t want us to call the police.”
“You’re NOT going to call the police!”
“You just shot at your wife, you fucking idiot! You think the police are gonna be on your side? They’re gonna start questioning you, and you don’t want them to find out about that operation you have going on, do you?”
“FUCK! BOTH OF YOU!”

He was gone, but we didn’t know for how long.

“What am I going to do? I can’t go home with you.”
He sighed, “Nope…. You can’t. But!! I think I have a solution to this problem. Leave your car here, and come with me. We’ll come back and get it later.”

Turned out he had just bought a house in the area that his wife didn’t know about.

“Have you had this the whole time?”
“Well, no. I just bought it recently in case something like this would happen.”
“Always prepared.”
“I did learn something from you, you know.”

I stared off into the distance and he knew something was wrong.

“It’s the books, isn’t it?”
I sighed, “Yes, and the paintings…. and my work station… and the weed.”
“Well, I have the weed covered.”

He pulled out a huge jar of the crystalliest snowiest weed I’d ever seen before.

“What…. is….. thisss??”
“Lemon. Fucking. Larry.”
“I love the lemon…. and…. I love the Larry.”
“And I love. You. Sweetpea.”

I smiled at him and put the jar down. We went into his bedroom this time.
I know men, and I know bachelor pads which this was. It was pretty much a mess, so I told him that when he was away taking care of the things he needed to take care of, I would clean and reorganize everything. He was kind of weird about it, but I knew that everything was gonna be alright.

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Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Chp III: Complacency Problems)

PJ acted a differently after that day. It seemed as though he felt a lot more relaxed than usual, which was good for him ’cause he was pretty high strung. He was constantly questioning the things that Spike Jones was making him do. I knew that Spike was the culprit in his complacency toward his life, because when someone has control over somebody else and the person being controlled starts to question the person in control, the controller starts to lose his power.

He would now come to me with stories about how he pissed off the entire crew with his belligerence, and how he wouldn’t take the bonus checks that they were trying to distribute to him anymore. I told him that he should be careful about doing that because that really pisses them off, so I told him to promise me that he would take the next one just to make them think that they were still in control. He did, but he didn’t like it. It was a constant struggle with him, and his moods were different every time he came over… but it didn’t take long for me to cheer him up and get him back to my PJ. It also helped that I had a drawer full of sexy clothes that I greeted him with every time he came over. We just sat around and laughed, watched animal documentaries, spent most of the day getting stoned and talking about the shit we were watching, then we would get bored and go walk to the beach or annoy the baristas at the shitty coffee shop down the street. Just wasting time and having a lot of awesome sex. We were in love.

He had this funny way of showing up right before I had to go to school, which was early in the morning so that I would have the rest of the day to smoke weed and write. He had a key at this point, would come in right after my husband left for work, and be all hyped up on energy drinks for the drive down to see me.

“Baby…….”
“Yesssss?!!?!!?!”
“It’s fucking 4:30 in the morning.”
“I know! That’s why I’m here. You’re used to waking up early anyway.”

I laughed and wiped the sleep from my eyes.

“Rack PT doesn’t start til 0615, naughty. What time did you leave?”
“0200!!”
“Haha, oh Jesus.”
“I drank some Monsters so that –”

The lock on the door started to make noise and we both almost shit our pants.

“Get in my closet!”
“It doesn’t close.”
“Hide behind the fucking clothes! Just fucking go! Hesitation kills!”

The husband walks in.

“Cassie.”
“Yeah……???” I act all tired like I just woke up.
“Who were you talking to?”
“I wasn’t talking to anyone.”
“I heard you talking to someone and I thought I saw someone come in here.”
“No, I’ve been fucking sleeping.”
“If I ever find out you’ve been cheating on me, I’m gonna kill both of you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m fucking serious.”
“Fuck you. Get the fuck out of here and go to fucking work. You’re the one cheating on me. I saw the videos.”

He ran over to me and grabbed my shoulders really hard.

“I am not fucking cheating on you, but if you are cheating I’m gonna kill you.”
“If YOU don’t get your FUCKING hands off of me, I’m going to FUCKING kill you.”

PJ couldn’t stand it anymore, so he emerged from the closet like a fucking gorrilla, grabbed the husband, threw him off of me, and punched him in the face. He took out a knife and put it at the husband’s throat.

“Go the fuck to work, Bob, you’re gonna be late. You just threatened to kill her and me, so go ahead and try something with a knife to your throat and see what happens. You know my woman knows how to deal with police.”
“Fuck you!” Bob spit in his face.

PJ grabbed him with the knife to his throat, and pushed him out the door.

“OH! And I’ll be fucking your wife while you’re at work. Aaaaallllllll day!”

I laughed as the husband left for work, but then I started to deal with the shock of what just happened. The tears started to roll, and I really started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” I yelped.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I’m sorry that happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I should have done something.” My Marine Corps prowess was taken away from me.
“Hell fucking no sweetpea! Are you crazy? That fucker would have fucking killed you if you did!”
“How am I supposed to leave him? He’ll probably try to kill me then too.”
“We’ll figure it out. I’m having the same problems with the people my wife knows.”
“They’re fucking thugs, huh?”
“Yup, and they’re trying to kill you too.”
“I guess it’s kind of hard for you to hide an affair when you talk about hanging out with polar bears all the time.”

We both laughed.

“They’re not going to be able to kill me, baby. There are Marines all over the place here, and they’re watching my back.”
“I know, but I still worry about it… and feel guilty about it… I’m not going to work today.”
“Yeah… I’m not going to school.”

He gave me a stern look.

“It’s English class!”
“Ok, you’re good then. Do you have a paper due?”
“Nope, that’s next week, Sergeant!”
“Haha, well, that’s good.” he sighed.

I could tell something was wrong and that he had something to tell me that I wasn’t going to like by the look on his face.

“I have something that I need to tell you but I don’t want you to get upset about it and I feel like shit about it…. Andddd this isn’t very good timing because of what just happened. Heh.”
“Shit. We’re both fucked up……”
“Yup, time to smoke a blunt and have a chit-chat.”
“I already know what you’re gonna tell me so I’ll smoke a blunt while you think of how to explain it.”
“You’re not mad?”
“I am, but I’m not. Those freaks in Hollywood live a fucking life that I have no idea about, baby. I need you to explain it to me.”

So, we light up the blunt and I could tell that what was happening to him really hurt him down inside.

“You need to tell me about it, naughty. Obviously it’s something out of your control.”
“That hemp bracelet that you gave me for my birthday…”
“She found it, huh?”
“Yup, and I have to give it back.”
“She threatened you with those thugs didn’t she?”
“Yup.”
“But that’s not the part that you thought would make me upset.”

Tears.

“Smoke this! Smoke this!” I said

He took a drag and started crying like I cried earlier. Snot down face and everything.

“You have to sleep with other women now, don’t you?”

He shook his head as I held him, wiped the tears from his eyes and the snot off his face, onto the couch.

“It’s not women…. Fuck.”

He cried harder as I held him closely.

“Baby, I don’t think any differently of you.”
“But I think differently of myself!” he wailed.
“You shouldn’t, baby, you’re being abused…. Fuck……”
“You’re not thinking of leaving me are you?”
“No! Not in that way! It’s just that I feel like it’s my fault.”
“Sweetpea, you’re the only thing that’s keeping me alive!!”
“You’re the only thing that’s keeping me alive too…… Man! We are constantly toiling between life and death here! I guess that’s what love is all about, right?”

He started to laugh, so I got up and got him some tissues to blow his nose. I looked at the blunt burning on the ash tray.

“You need –”
“I know, I need to smoke this. My baby rolls the bestest blunts.”

I smiled.

“FUCK! Why did I just say it like that?”
“Beeeecauuuuuse you say it like that all the time.”
“I do?”
“Yes….. Baby, you’re not gay. Watch.”

I took the blunt from his hand, and put it on the ash tray. Our lips touched eachother in complete ecstasy as he put his arms around me and brought me to the bedroom. We ripped eachothers’ clothes off as if it was the last time we were going to have sex. He fucked me like a dirty animal, like always. As we both got off, he laid down next to me and I looked at him and said, “I told you so.” He started laughing really hard.

“This is what I get for falling in love with a Marine.”

This was a hard day for us, but veging out on various documentaries and the occasional romp in the bedroom helped a lot. We sang folk songs:

There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza
There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole
Then mend it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry
Then mend it dear Henry, dear Henry, then mend it
With what shall I mend it dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I ment it dear Liza, with what?

“Baby girl… You are the only person in this FUCKING world who I can sing that song with.”
“I love that song. It helps me work!”
He laughed, “I know, me too.”

Then I started:

I’ve been working on the railroad
all the live-long day!
I’ve been working on the railroad

Then he joined in:

just to pass the time away!
Can you hear the whistle blowin’
bright and early in the morn?
Can you hear the whistle blowin’?
Esmarelda blow your horn!!

“Woot woot!” I yelled, “Wait… what? Did you say Esmarelda.”
“Yes.”
“Hm. I like that better than Delilah.”
“I know, because you’re my Esmarelda.”

Then he won another romp in the bedroom.

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Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Chp II: Cognitive Dissonance)

My silence on the .67 mile walk back to my house was really starting to freak him out because he thought that the strong feelings I had for him at the time changed somehow. I was trying to figure out if that tear was real, if any of the feelings that he said he had for me were real, how I was going to break some reality to him when we got back so that he would still want to see me. These types of things weigh down the brain, especially when you care so much for a person. It doesn’t make for good conversation on a nice walk from the beach.

I felt like an asshole for not thinking that his feelings were real because that was probably one of the main reasons why he didn’t want to tell me he was an actor. And, that’s probably one of the things that keeps our actor brethren away from the little writers in shitty apartments in San Diego. We often forget that actors do not act all the time, and are constantly striving for a relationship where someone can see them for who their crazy asses really are. This man is fucking crazy, a good companion for the crazy woman from the Marine Corps who lived on the streets when she was 14 with a love for punk rock, violence, hard liquor, and good weed. I could tell that he knew I was thinking about these things because that’s one of the things that the people who control his contracts taught him to believe, and that’s why he kept what he did as a secret for so long. Plus, he always had a way of knowing what I was thinking.

“My feelings for you are real.”
“I know. I’m just trying to figure some things out.”
He sighed, “Are you sure? Because I feel like you’re thinking that they’re not.”
“Goddamnit, I know you think that but don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more about it when we get inside. We already made a scene down at the beach.”
That block to my apartment was a loooooong fucking block. We get inside and his phone rings. We both sighed.

“I have to go to work.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I already missed too much of it this week.”
“Well, you already missed most of today, and it’s a long drive back. Let me ask you something: is going to work with those assholes better than hanging out with me?”
“Fuck…….. I don’t know.”

Now the tactful approach that I had to address the problems that ailed him at work had gone out the window. He had given me a synopsis of what was going on when he was filming this movie, but he made it seem like he was working in an office environment, which I thought was very creative. He called filming, “doing the work,” and reading the scripts, “filing the paperwork.” He slipped up sometimes and didn’t have a code for some of the things that he did which made me know that those stories were half bullshit, but the interactions between the people were real. He was about to get a Cpl. Kerkman stern talkin’ to vice a Cassandra Kerkman tactful monologue now.

“You know, these people who you say ‘take care’ of you when you go to them with problems are really just trying to control you to make you think that you love what you do and you care about the people you work with.

Now he’s pissed.

“I was hoping that wouldn’t happen, but just hear me out. You say that this dude that you’re doing the movie with hits on you and slaps your ass all the time, and that you’re not sure if you like it or not. Then you talk about this woman who’s always trying to get in your pants and corners you when you’re alone and makes you feel like a piece of shit. That’s fucking sexual harrassment. You don’t like it when he hits on you and you don’t like it when she treats you that way.

“Then you go to these people who run the shit and tell them about how these people are making you feel uncomfortable, and what do they do? Fucking nothing. They just pat your head and say, ‘There there, you’re just being sensitive. Here’s another check so you shut your mouth and don’t tell anybody.’ And now you don’t feel like you can go to anybody about your problems and that’s why you’re always talking to me about it.

“Now it makes sense that you couldn’t go to an HR representative because YOU DON’T HAVE ONE! You know what would happen to someone in the Marine Corps if they didn’t report activity like that? Or if coworkers were treating somebody like that? The manager would 1. get fired. 2. lose his rank. 3. get moved out of the unit. The offenders would get loss of rank, reduction in pay, restricted to the barracks and KICKED OUT! Now, that isn’t to say that that happens all the time, but at LEAST you can try.”

“NOT EVERYTHING IS LIKE THE MARINE CORPS!” he yelled, “Everything is Marine Corps this, Marine Corps that, but that place is fucking crazy TOO!”
I just smiled, “That’s cognitive dissonance.”
“Cognitive dissonance?! What the FUCK does that even MEAN?!”
“Oh, so you didn’t read what I wrote,” I smirked.
“No, I did, I just didn’t fucking — FUCK!”
“Oh… You didn’t get it….
Now the tears started in his eyes again.
Baby, don’t get upset, I’m just trying to get you to realize something.”
“Is this what you did to your Marines?”
I laughed, “Yes.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Thank you,” I smiled and took a hit from the bong, “Cognitive dissonance is what happens when someone or something… Something as in a book or an article… Which I guess would technically be someone.”
“Sweet pea….. You’re rambling.”
“Oh yes, anyway, it’s when someone comes around and says something to you that makes you question the supposed reality that you’re living in by questioning what you already have made up in your mind.”
“Oh…. That is what you did.”
“Yes, and I’m very good at it.”
“Did you learn that from Adam Kokesh?”

That made me laugh really hard ’cause Adam is really good at doing that, and I had been working closely with him at the time. I told PJ about all of the shit we were doing together, how I was worried about him because the people he was hanging out with were pieces of shit, just using him for the work that he was doing to get some type of recognition out of his name. He needed a fellow Marine around, and that’s what I was.

“No, I didn’t, but he did help me with my technique.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“Baby,” I giggled, “I’m not sleeping with that man. Although, I do think about it a lot, if you want me to be honest with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“YES! You’re my numba 1 ho, baby.”
“IS HE NUMBER 2!?”
“No.”
“Ok… Is there a number 2?”
“No! Anyway, you weirdo. Cognitive dissonance creates a sense of anger in the individual feeling it. That’s when you freaked out at me about the Marine Corps reference because you knew that you hadn’t been served justice… But then again, a lot of times that doesn’t happen in the Marine Corps anyway, but you are afforded resources to try to get the issue resolved….. I’m rambling again.”
“Yes you are.”
“Here, smoke this.” I handed him the bong.

He took a hit, and sat back on the couch. I let him sit there and ponder the little nudge in the side I gave him, then I put my head on his lap and he calmed down a little bit more.

“I do hate what I do.”
“Is it that you hate what you do or that you hate being — ”
“I fucking hate being Jack Holiday.”
“Well, when you come down here, you’re PJ. When you go up there, you’re Jack Holiday.”

That didn’t make him feel any better ’cause he had to leave in a few hours.

“Shit…. Is there something else that you like doing that you could do instead?”
“I like working on cars, and I never have any fucking time to do it.”
“Be a mechanic.”
“It’s not that easy, sweetpea.”
I smiled again, “Why not?”

He looked at me with a frustrated you’re-a-naughty-woman smile on his face.

“You just don’t stop, do you?”
“Hehe, no.” I grinned at him and then had a thought which wiped it off.
“Baby girl, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not the only one who instilled cognitive dissonance who’s sitting here right now.”
“What?”
“You told my my fucking husband was cheating on me!”
“Oh!” he smiled, “I did do that, didn’t I?”
“Haha. Yes you did baby.”

I straddled over him on the couch, and we started to passionately kiss with the touching and the feeling. Then I got an idea.

“Let’s go get coffee!!!” I exclaimed.
“You….. wanna go get coffee…. right now.”
“Yes.” I gave him the puppy dog eyes.
“We can’t go to that one –”
“There’s one right down the street! It’ll be fine. We can walk!”
“Ok,” he sighed, “you Marines and your walking.”
“You buyin’?” I laughed.
“You’re gonna pay for that.”
“Maybe I will.” I smirked.
“What are you thinking? You’re acting weird.”
“I’m acting weird because. I. Haven’t. Had. Coffee. Today.”
“Ok ok, let’s go.”

The walk to the coffee shop wasn’t as long as the walk to the beach, but this time I wasn’t the one that was doing the hard thinkin’. I knew that man needed some time to think, so I just held his hand and stared off into the horizon where the ocean ran free. “It’s awesome living next to the beach,” I thought, “if only it wasn’t getting fucked up by nuclear radiation and non-stop pollution.” These are the kind of things my mind goes to when I’m staring off into the horizon. For once, he wasn’t trying to figure out what I was thinking but rather what his thoughts were, and that made me happy. I did my job.

So, we get to the coffee place, and he gets pissed because the barista knew exactly who he was when we walked in, so I gave her the good ol’, “NO! He’s PJ!” and he liked that. She gives us the total, he pulls out his credit card.

“Nope,” I said as I pulled mine out.
“Hell no, sweetpea.”
“Come on! You probably buy that bitch things all the time. Let me buy you something.”
“Um. No.”

He hands the girl the credit card, so I take it out of her hand, put the credit card in my purse, and hand her mine. She swiped it. Now he’s pissed.

“What the FUCK?! WHERE IS IT?!”
“It’s in my purse. You’re not gonna be able to find it. It’s like a black hole. Don’t worry. I’ll give it back to you.”
He growled.
“You sure get angry when you don’t have your credit card,” I giggled.
“You. Are. High.”
“Yes I am!!”

She was taking her sweetass time, and it was making us really mad. So, he told her “less shit, more coffee.” Which made her upset, and I laughed really hard ‘casue that’s what I was thinking. Then we finally got the coffee and walked outside. He stopped, and looked at me.

“Yes?” I batted my eye lashes.
“Baby girl…. I keep on trying to figure out if anyone has done this for me before and I can’t think of one fucking person.”
“That was the whole point in me wanting to go get coffee. I wanted to do something for you because one of the reasons why you felt that way about me is because nobody ever does anything like that for you.”
He sighed, “Could you even afford it?”
“No,” I laughed, “but I’ll figure it out.”

He stared off into the distance and I could tell he was holding back.

“Baby, I wanted to do this for you because I love you!
“Shit! I thought, that fucking slipped out. Now it’s time for me to smooooooth it out.
“But not –”
“Doooon’t you fuuuucking say that. I know what you’re gonna say,” he pointed his finger at me, “’cause it’s something I would say in your situation, but guess what?”
Now I’m blushing, “What?”
“I feel the exact same fucking way.”

Now the tears are welling up in my eyes as we go to kiss. I’m pretty sure that barista heard that entire conversation because I felt this stinging in the back of my head as we held hands and walked away. Haters gonna hate.

We got back to the apartment, made love, and waited around til my husband just barely got home. We were cutting it close. I was constantly trying to figure out how to leave him, but I was scared.

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Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society (Chp I: Acknowledgement)

It was 1997, I was just 6 years old when my father left on his first business trip as a manager of a garage door manufacturing plant in Wisconsin. He was just a few states away, and the sorry excuse for a human being that he married had a sinister plan in mind for my big brother and I: kill them with heroin. I had just got back from playing out in the creek in the back yard with my best friends; we were playing cops and robbers. Then we decided that we would have a contest on who could jump the farthest off the swings. We found some frogs that had gotten too far away from the creek, so we brought them back to ensure the neighborhood cats didn’t kill them. It was a hard day’s work.

Little did I know that that night was going to be the last night that I had something that could be considered a mother. She came into my room as I was about to go to sleep; I had just read myself a bedtime story about the Rainbow Zebra who finally was ok with his rainbow colored stripes and the black and white zebras accepted him for who he was. It was my favorite book. She told me she had some medicine that she was going to give me, but I told her that I wasn’t sick. She told me that I was, and proceeded to stick the needle in my arm as I struggled to be let go.

I don’t know how I survived, but I woke up in the middle of the night in the basement laid ontop of my big brother who wasn’t breathing. I cried and I cried and I cried for him to wake up, and out of some miracle, he started to breathe. I had no idea what was going on, and I didn’t know how I ended up in the basement. So, to make myself feel better, I turned on the TV in search of something to watch. The first episode of Jackass aired that night and Johnny Knoxville was the only one who could make me laugh. Thank God he did. The story as to what happened to this whore is hard for me to explain, but after the cops were called, she was then able to escape the hands of the law off of some OJ Simpson evidence loophole. I was stuck as a human body to be used in any way she pleased as the sorry excuse for a father I had turned the other cheek out of fear of being killed himself for the next 12 years.
I’m not the only one who has suffered for the likes of the industries who run wars on everything in order to make a system of control over the individual and thus control over society. The problem in America with the widespread use of opiates is that the racketeering of governments, military industrial complex, Hollywood, music industry, and pharmaceutical corporations.

Your public service announcements against the usage of heroin, studies on keeping heroin off the street, and donations for non-profit organizations are all a part of a scheme to make you think that the only people who are interested in the heroin market are gang bangers and the prostitute standing on the corner. It goes much deeper than that. There is something that addicts do to make sure that they are not suspected of being addicts by calling out people who are known addicts in order to take the heat off of them. Not only do federal and state politicians have an addiction to the profit that this drug brings them from the opiates sold my the pharmaceutical companies, but the news has covered the likes of many individual “leaders” having the actual addiction themselves.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that Dianne Feinstein is holding kickbacks with Nancy Pelosi and John Boehner, shootin’ it up and listening to Nine Inch Nails, but with all of the weird shit that goes on with these swine, I’m sure that something like that isn’t out of the question. These are the same people who support the “War on Drugs” which takes the blame of drug usage and posts it on your neighborhood dope dealer as if he’s the only one who does the shit. Then, when the shipment comes in, NYPD arrests the dealer, puts him in jail for 20 years, and what in the hell happens to she shipment? It sits in the evidence locker until the “criminal” goes to court, he’s convicted….. Then Michael Bloomberg holds a kickback where he and his henchmen shoot it up and listen to Nine Inch Nails. Haha. Oh, some of you might read this and think that something like that would never happen, and of course, that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Not only do these soulless political accomplices support the War on Drugs (declared by Richard Nixon who just looked like a junkie all along), but they also support the War on Terror. As you well know, I am a veteran of the United States Marine Corps. Oorah. There are countless stories of Marines who were sent on patrols in order to protect the poppy plants that the locals were growing. The excuse was, “It’s a direct order, Marine. Now, get your gear ready.” So, Marines who are already going crazy from seeing their buddies dying and killing people try to make an excuse for protecting the plants by saying that it’s “a part of their culture,” or, the most painful one, “it’s the only way the country can make any money to sustain the economy.” To hear my fellow Marines make these Stockholm Syndrome excuses as to why they were helping the government and the distributors of this plant (which has legitimate medical uses in its pure poppy form) turn it into chemically distorted versions of its pure form in order to create an addiction much worse than any other addiction in America…. And I don’t need any statistical evidence to prove that.
Around this time last year, I found out that the man that I married was cheating on me with prostitutes that he was using in order to find heroin. I woke up one morning to find an unexpected visitor in my house. I grabbed my weapon of opportunity (a knife I had stowed away in a safe place) and proceeded to threaten him, trying to find out who he was. He scrambled to find words as I held the knife up to his throat, “I’m PJ, I read your blog and I’m your biggest fan. I have something to tell you.”

“What?!” I exclaimed.
“Please put that thing away, it’s freaking me out.”
“No. I don’t know who you are PJ. How do I know you’re just not trying to get me to be complacent?”
“You’re never complacent.”
“Ok.” I put the knife down, but still had it brandished, just in case, as he sighed knowing he wasn’t gonna die that day.
“Look, I came in here to tell you that your husband is cheating on you.”
“WHAT IS YOUR PREROGATIVE?!” as the knife went up to his throat again.
“I don’t have one! JUST LET ME SHOW YOU! I have to take my phone out of my pocket.”
“Are you sure it’s a phone?”
“YES!”
“Take it out. Slowly.”

As he took out his phone, I started to calm down a little bit as I wasn’t sure how he was going to show me that my husband was cheating on me. Little to my surprise, not only had he taken pictures of him and these whores outside of our apartment, he also hacked into our wireless system to show me sex videos that he extracted from my husband’s computer. I freaked out as the evidence was shown to me, cursing the bastard I married and wondering what it was I was going to do next. Then I realized I had a friend in the room.

“Are you stalking me, PJ?”
“Ok, yes, but don’t kill me.”
“I won’t it’s just weird.”
“Yeah, I know it’s weird. But you’re a great writer….. and I needed to tell you.”
I sighed, “Well, since you’re here, wanna smoke a blunt?”
“Aren’t you busy?”
“Pff…. Yeah…. Busy smoking blunts. I have to go to school in a few hours though.”
“Wait… You wanna hang out with me?!”
“Of course. You’re my biggest fan. Oh, just so happens, I already had a blunt rolled.”

So we lit up the shit, and I calmed down a lot. When something like that happens, my Marine Corps training kicks in and it takes a lot to calm me down… Like a whole blunt of some stanky Cali weed. I took a second look at my stalker and started thinkin’, “That’s a hot man. I wonder…. Hm…..”

“So,” my interrogation began, “I notice the ring on your finger as well.”
“Well, I just found out that my wife has been cheating on me and that the kids that we have aren’t even mine.”
“Oh damn, that sucks,” I eyed him, “Must be why you wanted to come and tell me, huh?”
“Yes,” as the shit-eating grin started to form on his pretty face, “It’s just that I had to find out on my own. I didn’t have anyone to come and break the news to me.”
“So what is it that you like so much about my writing so much?” I smiled.
“It reminds me of Hunter S. Thompson, and he’s my favorite writer.”
“Oh,” my pupils dilated, “he’s mine too,” as I took in a huge hit and handed it to him.

He took a hit as the tension rose higher, put the blunt down, and so started the affair I had been waiting for. I knew that the bastard was cheating on me, I just didn’t have any proof of it. He was using me for the money I made in the Marine Corps. Steady paycheck, bills paid. That’s how every Marine gets fucked over, but by this time I was already out and collecting the GI Bill, going to college. He came to visit me randomly, and I fancied a stalker due to the the spontaneity of the affair. I was his polar bear and he was my beluga whale. I started to wonder what it was that he did that allowed him to come and see me so often while skipping out on work, and still working at the same time. He lived in Clairemont and I lived in San Diego. Long drive. He was very secretive about it and talked in code as to the problems he was having at work, so I kind of thought he was some sort of gangster or fucking spy or something. I didn’t ask very many questions, I just let him vent ’cause he needed to.

But one day I just needed to know because of how weird he was acting when we walked down to the beach. I always walk around like a Marine, scanning and assessing individuals, but today was different because he was doing the same thing. So, we sat down at the beach, and I looked him in the eye and asked him what he did.

“Why do you want to know so badly?”
“Um…. Because we’ve been seeing eachother for four months and I still have no idea what you do.”
“I just don’t want you to think of me differently.”
“Why would I?” I laughed.
“Ok, I work in construction.”
My husband was an electrician and I knew that was bullshit.
“Oh really?! What do you construct?”
“Buildings.”
“Are you a foreman or something? ‘Cause you miss an AWFUL amount of work.”
“OK! OK! I construct movies.”
“What kind of movies? B movies?!”
“No,” he sighed, “Hollywood movies.”
“Oh….” I was running through who he could be, “What movies?”
“You still don’t know who I am?!”
“Uh……….. No.”

Then he started listing off some movies I hadn’t seen in a long time and I couldn’t remember any of them. He started to get upset.

“Holy shit. Jackass.” he said.
“You were…… Uh…..”
“I’m Jack fucking Holiday.”

I couldn’t help but burst out into laughter which confused him a lot.

“What’s so funny?”
“You. For one. For two, it’s just funny how where ever we go, people always ask you, ‘Are you Jack Holiday?’ and I’m like, ‘DOES HE LOOK LIKE FUCKING JACK HOLIDAY?! He’s PJ!’ and they get all mad and shit, but you’re really Jack Holiday and I had no idea!!!!!”
“Heh! That is pretty funny.”
“But you’re still my PJ,” I smiled.

He didn’t find it as amusing as I did and started to pout. I was trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Baby, what’s going on?”
“Now you can’t stop thinking about how much money I make.”

Now I’m fucking pissed, so I got up and stormed off with a purpose. I was walking so fast that he had to run to catch up to me and I dwarf him by about 10 inches.

“Cassandra!” he yelled, “Baby please stop!!!”
“NO! FUCK YOU!”
“I’m sorry!!”

He finally caught up to me and grabbed my arm. We were making a scene and people were filming it. Haha. Oh man.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” I snarled, “What do you want?”
“YOU!”
“No you don’t. You think that I give a FLYING FUCK about how much money you make?”
“No, I do. I don’t— Shit. Look….” I turned away and crossed my arms, “The reason why I care about you so much is because you care about me for who I am and I was afraid that if you found out who I was that you would start caring about how much money I make.”
“Well, that’s a FUCKING insult. Like I would give a shit about that,” my eyes started to water, “like you even read anything I wrote…..” and the tears started to fall and his eyes started to water.
“No. I did read what you wrote. It’s just that the people in Hollywood condition us to think that people who aren’t in Hollywood only care about how much money we make….. and I truly apologize for making you think that you were one of those people to me….. because you’re not.”
I saw a tear fall from his eye, something that I could tell was real, “Ok, let’s go back to my place and get this sorted out. I have something that I’ve been wanting to tell you and now that I know what you do, it makes it a lot easier for me to say it. I just need to figure out how without pissing you off too much.”
“Do you still want to see me?!”
“Yes, you asshole,” just let me think on the walk back.

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