Source: The Perfect Date [trailer]
Source: The Perfect Date [trailer]
We all tell stories to our young ones. Whether they’re true or not; to make a point or just for entertainment, stories are important because they can be helpful. Well, I came up with a story that soon spread to all my nephews and nieces. I titled it…
My nephew Julian had his toys all over the living room. He seldom picked them up on his own (if at all) so he was constantly being told to pick up his toys.
It’s not that there were toys out, but it was every toy he had that was out. To top it all off, he’s just sprawled out in the middle of the mess watching television (actually, the Spiderman DVD for the thousandth time).
One day, driving home from pre-school, he spots a little boy in the neighborhood running down the sidewalk. Now, it’s cold outside, damn near freezing, and my nephew notices that this little boy doesn’t have a coat on! Julian was beside himself! He couldn’t believe it! He just looked at me through the rear-view mirror pointing at this coatless little boy.
“He doesn’t have a coat on!” Julian exclaimed.
“I know. It’s cold outside,” I explained.
“Why doesn’t he have a coat on?” Julian asked sounding a bit concerned.
“Maybe his mom and dad couldn’t buy him one,” I added trying to tug at his heart-string.
Julian was quiet for a moment while he looked out the window. I was about to pull into the drive when asked me, “Do you think he has any toys?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I put the car in park and looked at him through the rear-view mirror. “Do you want to give him some of yours?”
I thought Julian would have said “yes”, since he sounded so concerned, but he shocked me by giving me a serious face and shaking his head “no”.
“No?” I asked him. “Why?”
“Because he’ll break them.”
I exited the car and got Julian out of his child seat. That’s when I came up with the story.
“That’s okay,” I said calmly, “people don’t need give the “little boy without a coat” any toys.”
Julian looked puzzled.
“Yeah, the “little boy without a coat” just goes around and takes other kids toys. Since his mom and dad won’t buy him any toys he has to take other kids toys.”
Julian slowly walked to the front door and listened to my story.
“So whenever you leave your toys out and if you’re not watching, the “little boy without a coat” comes and takes them.”
I started opening the front door and Julian looked up at me and asked, “Even in the house?”
“Even in the house.”
We entered the house and I could tell that Julian was still processing the story. He took off his coat, hat and gloves and walked into the living room. He saw the living room and how cluttered it was.
“Look at those toys the “little boy without a coat” could have taken, had he known they were here. Good thing the curtains were drawn,” I said to really get him thinking.
Actually, the curtain was drawn so the mailman couldn’t see that my living room was a wreck.
“Here… maybe if I open the curtains….” I started to say but was immediately interrupted by Julian screaming in terror.
“Noooo…. wait!” Julian yelled out.
“Well, I’m not sitting in here with the curtains drawn all day, you better pick up these toys,” I warned him.
He started to whimper and whine, but he slowly picked up his toys and put them away.
It may have taken him almost an hour, but he did it.
Now, the “little boy without a coat” has become my ‘GO-TO’ guy.
If you need to, you can borrow my “little boy without a coat” story.
I’d be honored.
Being part of filming BEWARE OF THE KLOWNS was one of the MOST exciting things I’ve ever done. Thanks to Tim Wolak, Alexander Hale Gibson, Rosaleah Sunserra Gonzalez and Brandon Berk.
Here at HMU we are some sick individuals. Even our creator Travis Brown decided to send this teaser to one of our writers Stacey Beth who is terrified of Klowns. If anything it gave us the perfect reaction to know we had to key you guys in on this film. Browsing the redditsphere we came across this teaser for a film currently under production BEWARE OF THE KLOWNS. Yes with a K folks stay with us now. The film is directed by Tim Wolak we have the plot below picked from their Facebook page. All you need to know is there is a group of killer klowns that ain’t getting out a small car for your f**king entertainment. They want blood. Check out the trailer and we will be keeping an eye out for more news on BEWARE OF THE KLOWNS in the near future.
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Ah, the summer of 1989. A lot of good times & memories (of what I can remember anyway) were made in that year.
We were a little older, a lot crazier, unfortunately, none the wiser.
We made it through the summer of 1989, however, with nothing to show for it. All except for a fridge half-full of beer and a small canon.
That’s right. We got ourselves a canon,
but that’s a totally different story.
The fact that there was absolutely NO SUPERVISION is what made all this possible.
I thought I was living the dream. Probably the dream of every 18-year-old male across the country. Well, at least maybe among my fellow “Region Rats” anyway. I guess that’s why we pretty much hung out at my house all the time. The lack of supervision made it the perfect environment for all the “Shit Starting & Shenanigans” we got ourselves into.
It usually started with a garage/back alley BBQ, but things always got carried away and into the basement as the evening rolled in. By this time, most of us were already half-lit. There was always plenty of beer (free of charge). Of course, this was before the “major bust” of The Great Beer Heists of ’89.
In fact, the warm keg of Guinness spent a good portion of the summer of 1989 in my basement before it was finally moved to a new [undisclosed] location for further study & observation. A few of us would always take a crack at trying to get the beer out, but it always ended up in failure. If we only had that specific tap for that Guinness keg maybe a few us would think differently about Guinness beer.
Then again, maybe not.
Thanks to the “Boys of Wildwood” we finally did get into that keg of Guinness.
Let’s get to the point of the story.
We came up with a competition that if completed you were made a “48 Club” member. It was called the “48 Club” and to become a member you had to drink 48 beers within 48 hours.
Here are the rules:
We found out that a particular brand of alcohol (liquor?) would actually ignite – Everclear!
I’m not sure if Everclear was intended to be sipped straight from the bottle, but we did it anyway.
It was horrible.
So, to liven the party, we lit a shot glass full of Everclear on fire and drank it that way.
Now it doesn’t only taste like shit, but it’s dangerous too.
Not sure where the idea of throwing flaming shots down your throat came from, but after a few hits & misses , some of us became rather good at it. Almost expert even. May sound like a useless skill but I have to admit, it is rather interesting to witness. If you ever get a chance to witness a drunk throwing fire towards their face, take it.
Sometimes, things could go terribly wrong.
Like someone lighting their face on fire.
Or, things could go hysterically funny.
Like someone lighting their face on fire.
Note: On all Flaming Shots you are suppose to extinguish the flame before you drink it.
Nobody told us about that part.
By the fourth hour of the very first 48 Club Competition, there were only 6 or 7 serious (semiconscious) applicants still in the competition out of a basement full of juvenile delinquents.
You remember Cousin Mike?
He was with me during the “Jumping & Riding Trains” incident.
He was one of them.
The McDonald Brothers.
They were with me during one of the Great Beer Heists of ’89.
They were both hanging in there also.
So, there was Cousin Mike, the two McDonald Brothers, myself and a few others.
One of those still standing was Benjie Garrison.
Benjie Garrison is an awesome bowler and already a well-known competitor among his peers and other young professional bowlers. He is very, very good. I met Benjie in high school through a few of my friends. And like myself, he lived with just his father. I remember spending many days ditching school at his house when mine was “unavailable”. We dominated Super Mario Bros. on Nintendo.
My house, however, was the hub. It was a bit bigger, plus it had a basement that was equipped with a bar. The bar was nothing fancy but it served its purpose. Built in the 60’s by my grandfather, this bar has seen its fair share of shit starting & shenanigans…
…and today was no different.
Although the rules simply state that nobody may leave the vicinity of the competition, Benjie and the younger McDonald got hungry. Since there wasn’t any food in the house and nobody delivered this late, we decided to make an exception. There was a tiny 24-hour Mexican restaurant just a block away. The infamous LAS BRISAS Mexican Restaurant was a Region Rat hot-spot.
Being that Las Brisas was open 24-hours a day, it too, has also seen its fair share of shit starting & shenanigans. Serving not just the sober during the day, but also the drunks, addicts and idiots during the night. If you ever wanted to test your self defense skills, visit Las Brisas anytime after 1 am and wait. Even though the Hammond Police Department was exactly kiddie-corner from Las Brisas, some knuckleheads didn’t care. Something’s going to happen…
…and tonight was no different.
Benjie and the younger McDonald brother left the house together. It’s best to go in pairs. Besides, Cousin Mike was in no condition to go anywhere. He was worse off than the rest of us. And since this was my house and he was my cousin, I was the one to look after him.
So off they went.
When they walked into Las Brisas they could already tell that something was not right. There were three employees, one up front, one in the back and another sitting in a booth next to the register. All three of them had their eye on a couple (guy & girl) that were waiting for their order. They looked as if they were pissed off at one another.
The employee that was up front walked to the register and asked Benjie if they were ready to order. Just when Benjie was about to speak, a loud “Fuck you!” was shouted from the girl.
Benjie quickly turned and looked at the couple, “Wow. What was that?” Benjie jokingly snickered.
The guy looked up at Benjie for a moment and then went back silently speaking to the girl looking rather irritated
“What the fuck?” the younger McDonald said to Benjie.
“I don’t know. Whatever.” Benjie said back and then placed their order.
You were to pay right after you order at Las Brisas. This prevented ‘Dine & Dash’. When the employee gave Benjie his change she quickly went to finish up the couples order and gave it to them. The couple immediately left.
Not even a minute after the couple left, Benjie heard a ruckus right outside the restaurant’s front door. Benjie and the younger McDonald went to investigate and found the guy beating the shit out of the girl. Both of them went to grab the guy and pulled him off her.
Suddenly, Benjie felt a thud on the back of his head. When he turned around he saw the younger McDonald throwing the girl a pretty good distance away. When he did, a loud clank was heard. The girl dropped a tire iron in the process of being thrown. After the younger McDonald threw the girl down he jumped on the guy and started beating the shit out of him.
Yes. This happened.
The guy was totally unconscious, but the younger McDonald kept beating away. The girl stood up and decided not to intervene. I guess she knew that it didn’t matter she was a female. It wasn’t until Benjie, when he got his bearings, that stopped the younger McDonald from beating the guy any further. They both went back inside the restaurant. The girl just stood there and continued to scream at the both of them.
The Hammond Police showed up just when they sat down to eat their tacos. It looked as though the girl was trying to explain to the police why her boyfriend was laying unconscious in a Las Brisas parking lot. She was looking through the restaurants glass, pointing to the both of them telling the police who they should be arresting. But the police never came in the restaurant and asked any questions. It seems that they just hauled the couple away to jail.
End of that story.
Back at the house, none of us knew what was going on with Benjie and the younger McDonald. This was, of course, before the readily available cell phone.
This was also when we started doing “Flaming shots of Everclear”.
Turning up the heat!
Benjie and the younger McDonald finally made it back from Las Brisas.
“We got into a fight,” Benjie announced as soon as he walked down the basement stairs. “Man, we kicked the shit out of some guy and his girlfriend.”
The younger McDonald went ahead and tried to explain what happened, but with the tape deck blaring “Sweet Child of Mine” by Guns’n Roses made it a little difficult.
Before any of us could ask Benjie any questions, he was already at the end of the bar with his taco take-out. He sat with his back to us and that’s when I noticed the blood stain down Benjie’s back.
“Dude, you’re bleeding!” I shouted.
The younger McDonald went to check out Benjie’s head.
“That chic busted your head open.”
We all checked out his wound. Yep, there was a gash alright. She bashed him good.
Benjie took his last bite and muffled with a mouth full, “That bitch.” He grabbed a napkin and went upstairs to clean himself up in the bathroom.
Meanwhile…we showed the younger McDonald what we were up to since they left. Rash Key, Jay Gee along with the older McDonald brother with myself included poured ourselves a half-shot of Everclear. Each of us then lit the Everclear in the shot glass on fire.
“What the…?” the younger McDonald said looking wide eyed. “What are you guys going to do now?”
Before he realized, all four of us at the same time, threw the flaming shot down our own throat.
“HOLY SHIT! That’s fucking crazy!”
“Oh yeah?” a voice said coming from the other side of the basement. It was coming from Cousin Mike as he stumbled toward the bar. “I’ll show ya how to do it.”
Cousin Mike grabbed the bottle of Everclear and an empty shot glass. He carelessly poured himself a FULL shot spilling alcohol all over his hand as well as the bar.
“This is how you do it.”
Before any of us knew what was going on, Cousin Mike lit his shot glass on fire.
And his hand.
And the bar.
But that didn’t stop him.
Cousin Mike went ahead and was going to finish what he started. He tried to throw that flaming shot down his throat. But it was more like him throwing a fireball at his entire face than down his throat.
Oh yes. He threw fire at his own face.
So, Cousin Mike lit his hand and face on fire along with the top of the bar. I freaked out and everybody started yelling. I just started whacking Cousin Mike in the face trying to put the fire out. He gripped onto the bar with both hands (one of them on fire) and let me slap the shit out of him. The idea soon spread because everybody stopped screaming and started slapping Cousin Mike in the face.
And I do mean everybody. Like four pairs of hands.
I then threw a towel over his burning hand and put out the bar.
After a few quick moments of trying to extinguish Cousin Mikes face the fire eventually went out.
But wait a minute.
Benjie wanted some of that.
From nowhere Benjie flew into the scene. Throwing himself over the bar and with a stretch – SLAP!
He slapped Cousin Mike the hardest of everybody…and the fire was already out.
But hold on.
This night doesn’t stop there.
This story is the second part of another story that happened to me.
I worked a late night. I drove to the boss’s house because I was going to ride to the job-site with him. He moved his van from his back alley parking spot and I parked in (backwards) in his place. It was around 9 pm.
After three and a half hours at the job site, we ran out of material and had to wrap things up. My boss drove me back to his house and dropped me off. We said our good-byes and I closed his door. I walked over to my van and I crawled underneath it to start it.
Remember…? I have to start my van underneath it.
And yes, I haven’t gotten around to fixing that ignition problem.
I grabbed the tool that starts the van and was feeling around underneath the van with it. It being dark out, I was having a difficult time trying to locate the starter. I scooted a little further underneath the van thinking it would help me find it…and I did.
At first, the van didn’t start right up. I had to do it again. The van finally started and began to accelerate slowly in reverse. I was still underneath the van.
Quickly I tried to get away, but the right front tire pinched the material of my coat, trapping my arm in place. My upper arm was trapped underneath the tire of my moving van. It was obvious that the van was in reverse. There was nothing I could do to stop it.
I couldn’t sit up, I desperately grabbed for the slowly rolling tire that was gradually crushing my bicep. The pressure was immense. I thought that my arm was going to explode. All I could think about was having to amputate my arm. My face was inches away from my vans front tire. I watched as the wheel slowly rolled over my arm. All I could do was lay there.
When the van rolled over my arm I watched as the van back over my boss’s privacy fence. It continued to roll into the backyard and came to a stop when it crashed into a tree.
My boss jumped out of his van and ran over to help me up.
“Are you okay?” my boss asked in disbelief. “Did your van run over you?”
“Oh my God! Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No, no, I’m alright, really,” I said. “Sorry about the fence.”
“Forget the fence, how are you? Where did it get you?” he asked as he looked me over to see if I was okay.
“My arm. The van rolled over my arm,” I told him as I lifted it. It was weird that it didn’t hurt like you’d think it would. I mean, it was sore but strangely enough it didn’t bruise.
With a camera in hand and an hour to kill, I noticed this sticker posted on a lamp post. It looked cool; with the hash-tag(#) in front of the word RILLA; spelled out in lower case letters. The hash-tag in front of the word RILLA instantly made me think of Twitter. It was obvious an advertisement for “something” and they were going through a social network.
I do that too.
So I took a picture – trying to be all “artsy”…
…I have to admit it didn’t turn out that bad.
I like it.
But what is RILLA? I have to know.
At first it was quiet. I didn’t get a response right away, so I furthered my investigations onto YouTube.
The first video I watched that was associated with the word RILLA was a 2:45 video (rap) with an awesome piano riff. It was posted about 6 months ago and with the condition of the sticker on the lamppost – this could be a match…but I shall continue on.
After watching the video and giving it a THUMBS UP, I went back to the #rilla tweet on Twitter to check things out.
everybody aint yo friend #Rilla
You would think that this would be a hostile remark. However, after watching the video on YouTube (RILLA – AINT NUTTIN NEW) this is somewhat what the song is about.
So far, I feel this strengthens my case that this RILLA sticker was intended for them.
But there’s MORE on RILLA on YouTube, to make sure my conclusion is correct I continued on. The next RILLA I got from YouTube was this 4:45 video (rap) that was obviously filmed by a buddy of his and was posted 2 months ago.
Cool song though.
After watching this video I went back to Twitter to see if anything else came up.
everybody claim they real but obviously not cus everybody falling out wit eachother #Rilla
depending on ppl will only lead to disappointments #Rilla
if you got a girl that’s riding for you & she loyal then keep her 💯 #Rilla factssss
It seems RILLA is trying to spread “a word” of some sort…sounds to me a lot like LOYALTY. Like the three responses above:
Almost like I said in a Facebook post not to long ago….remember?
Very interesting indeed.
It’s like as if that RILLA sticker was talking to me…directly to me.
After certain incidences that have occurred to me in the past (those who know me KNOW what they are), it seems RILLA might be on to something.
I’m guessing it’s these guys…
can anyone prove me wrong?
So all in all, it’s simple.
RILLA to me means this:
It's time to grow up.
In the afternoon of September 29th, I decided to take a trip to Chicago. I called a few friends at the last moment to see if anyone would care to join me, but being a last minute decision, my invitations were declined. It’s not like anybody wanted to go with me…it was just too soon.
So, a solo adventure it will have to be.
A round-trip ticket only cost me $10.50 – not bad. I planned on taking the train all the way to Millennium Station (the last stop); stroll around & take a few snap shots; get a little writing done; get something to eat; then head home.
It’s Sunday…I’m bored.
Not really getting into the football frenzy like MOST everybody else I know this year.
In fact, one of the reasons my invitations were mostly rejected were because they already had planned on watching the Chicago Bears play against the Detroit Lions.
It was an away game so I figured that’d be one less thing to worry about. I mean, traffic and the sidewalks were still packed as usual, but it could have been worse.
I’m an Indianapolis Colts fan and I like the Bears, but hey…I live in Indiana. As far as I’m concerned, I’m on the right wagon.
If you have never ridden the South Shore you have got to make plans to do so.
Taking trips to the Field Museum, the Museum of Science & Industry, the Shedd Aquarium, &c. is the ONLY way to travel to and from Chicago, Illinois.
“Yeah, but I’d rather drive.”
Shame on you.
Out-of-shape assholes. You’d rather add to the congestion and mayhem (not to mention the emissions from your car) than use public transportation?
I know, I know…there are weirdos that use public transportation.
I’ve run into a few myself, but still…it’s somewhat funny, most of the time – afterwards, that is.
While waiting in the Hammond South Shore train terminal I noticed there were other people waiting as well. I found it odd because it was only about 12:30 in the afternoon and the next train isn’t until 1:57 pm. And I thought I was an early bird. I sat at the very end of the wooden bench against the south wall of the terminal. I chose to sit there because it was next to an outlet. This came in handy because I needed to charge both my cell phone and my laptop. I plugged both my phone and laptop and and wrote a few notes.
A transit police officer walked in to check things out. He checked to see if the bathrooms were locked and that nobody was living in there. After awhile, I took some photos with a Canon PowerShot Elph 330 Hs and a fresh memory card, unknowingly leaving my cell phone behind (accidently) on the wooden bench, against the south wall right next to the outlet. I took the charger; I just forgot the phone.
Luckily, after I realized what I have done (5 mins later), I ran back to the terminal to find my phone laying there on the wooden bench, against the south wall next to the outlet.
Traveling solo you won’t have much trouble finding a seat. Unlike if you were with someone or even a group of people, chances are you’re not going to be able to sit together. Fewer the people, better the chances. That is, of course, when you’re traveling solo and everybody has got their parcels (whether it’s a backpack, purse, or shopping bag) on the seat next to them.
I hate that.
I walk from train car to train car; opening and closing those heavy metal sliding doors that separate the passenger train cars from one another. There’s a lot of solo travelers, but they’re taking up two seats. Some people even have the nerve to lay down – wtf?
So train car to train car I continue on, trying to find a seat until at last!
I found a seat.
I placed my backpack on the seat next to me.
If you can’t beat’em, then join’em.
It’s not like I’ve never been to the “city” before, I’ve been here plenty of times for lots of different reasons.
But this time…?
This time I’m going to try and look at it from an artistic point-of-view.
As I boarded off the passenger car of a South Shore train my memory kicked in. I remembered right away about the long walk if you happened to be riding in the last car. The platform for the South Shore train station reminds me of a movie set off of “Batman”. Yeah, it’s pretty cool.
Walking through the terminal I passed a Church’s Chicken restaurant and a Starbucks, there was even an area where you could do your banking (if you were a member of that particular bank), but there were plenty of Automatic Teller Machines just in case you weren’t.
As I stepped onto Randolph Street, I turned right and headed for Millennium Park. There was some kind of fest going on, so instead of crossing Michigan Avenue, I made another right and headed for Madison Street. I’m not sure what this event was for, but it was pretty much packed with pedestrians and patrolman. I occasionally looked to my left to see if I could see anything going on; some kind of clue that would tip me off, but frankly, I didn’t care.
However, all I could see was that GIANT chrome bean. I eventually went there, but if you want to see those pictures you have to go to my Facebook Fan Page.
I noticed Graham Crackers Comic Book Store and gave them a try.
I’m a huge DAREDEVIL fan (in case you didn’t know). Of all the superheros there are out there, DAREDEVIL is my favorite.
Hey, I know he’s blind, but all his other extra senses are super enhanced – plus he’s a lawyer by day (ka-ching)!
And I know he got beat up by a girl (Elektra).
Big deal, he’s blind.
He still put up a great fight! The total cost of the collection I bought to the right cost less than $20.00.
Not bad…I’m okay with that.
After spending an hour or two at Graham Crackers Comic Books I developed a thirst. I needed something nutritious but has plenty of alcohol…BLOODY MARY’S! Perfect. As I stepped out, I noticed the sun going down and checked out the time…almost 6:30 pm. Not that it was getting darker, the shadows have shifted making it feel later than it actually was. It got a bit cooler, but I brought along “Old Grey” to keep me warm. This also means I missed my 6:22 pm train home.
Guess I’m stuck here until the next one…that’s not until 9:15 pm.
INSIDE INFO: “Old Grey” is a grey, long sleeved, button down sweater, with semi wide black stripes going down, made from the same material as a “baja hoodie”.
I couldn’t help it.
I had a buzz, I was alone, and I had to make sure I made the 9:15 pm South Shore train back to Hammond, because the next one didn’t leave until 11:15 pm; then 12:45 am after that.
There’s noway I’m going to miss this train.
I was lucky to be able to get a seat at Giardano’s, it was packed.
If you like to no more about Giordano’s you need to check my Yelp Account.
The most unfortunate thing happened to me.
I lost my cell phone. That’s right…my cell phone.
It’s already taken care of, I have the same number and as a matter of fact, I have the exact same phone I had originally lost (only this one is in better condition).
I lucked out BIG TIME!
Thank you LEEZA’S SHOP, you were a big help!
When I realized I left my phone behind – I started to have an anxiety attack. I knew right where I left it; on the steps next to a homeless person.
She was a young black woman that just sat next to to a dingy public ashtray asking for hand-outs, I ignored her and continued to text to make sure I had a ride waiting for me at the Hammond South Shore Train Terminal. As I went through my backpack, I placed my cell phone down on the steps and went through my backpack with both hands.
I got up and headed for the train – I left the cell phone behind.
Oh well…all I can do is hope that my ride is there at the Hammond South Shore Terminal.
And of course – she was!
Being a 15-year-old male in “the Region” was an exciting time for me; being a policeman’s son, sometimes made it that much better.
I was daring, reckless, maybe a bit of an idiot. Some may even say that I was a complete lunatic, but whatever it is you’re told, they’ll also tell you that they’ll never forget the shit we pulled – I made sure of that.
My two cousins (Mike & Bill) and I got this crazy idea about jumping and riding trains, we thought that it be a great way to get around – you know…free transportation! The problem with that idea was that these trains didn’t go anywhere we wanted to go, so jumping and riding them was pretty much pointless and a waste of time, but we didn’t care; we jumped and rode them anyway.
One of the first incidents that almost went horribly wrong while jumping and riding trains was with my cousin Mike. Mike and I talked and planned about jumping a train that carried brand new (tough built) cars from a nearby auto plant. We thought that we could hop a train car that carried these new cars and then take the radios out of them. I’m not sure what we planned to do with the radios once we got them…we didn’t plan that far ahead.
I mean, it’s not like we knew anyone that was in the market for stolen, factory built car radios…and besides, we never got that far anyway.
It was mid afternoon when Mike and I decided to head out towards the train depot. Neither one of us have ever taken out a car radio before so we weren’t exactly sure what tools to bring – so we brought hammers.
Not the first tool of choice for most thieves.
These weren’t your typical claw hammers either, no, these were the odd looking mechanic hammers…the hammers with the ball point at the back instead of the usual claw. Yeah, this was our tool of choice for such an operation, according to our calculations, we figured hammers would do just fine.
Oh, did I mention that this was our first time doing something like this?
…hammers are terrible tools to use when trying to steal a car radio.
James Timothy Peters
Our tool supply came from our grandfather, Grandpa Schreier (Mike’s mother and my mother were sisters and Grandpa Schreier was the father). Grandpa Schreier had an ample supply of tools. Masonry tools, carpentry tools, drafting tools, levels, ropes, chains, hooks and a single car garage filled to the rafters with wood. He had a room in the basement/workshop that was totally dedicated to doors and an old bomb cellar dedicated to ladders.
When I asked my uncle why Grandpa had all that wood in the garage, the response was “In case the house burns down he’d be able to build another one.”
The Door Room: A room that is dedicated to just doors. It is filled with interior & exterior doors; closet & bedroom doors; French doors, Colonial style doors, &c. Whatever door you may need…Grandpa Schreier just might have it.
The Ladder Room: An old bomb cellar that Grandpa Schreier built under his front porch, surrounded by brick 12″ thick (minus the entryway). It may not have been able to take a direct hit or withstand the radiation from a nuclear blast, but you sure felt like it could when you stood in it. After the bomb scare in the 1960’s, the bomb cellar eventually became the new storage place for all 30 of his extension ladders.
There was an opening in the chain-link fence of the train yard that was just big enough for us to squeeze through. We brought along a pillow case that we took from our grandmothers linen closet. We carried our hammers in them on the way to the train depot and we were going to use them to carry our car radios on the way back.
Everything was coming together.
As we crept through the hole in the fence and through the high brush and tall weeds, we moved slowly and made sure we weren’t spotted.
Now that I think about it, Mike was wearing all white. A white tank-top; white shorts & boat shoes. The perfect outfit for a stealthy operation such as this.
Luckily, a train carrying these automobiles was just on its way out of the train yard. It was going so slow you could walk next to it and still keep up. It was easy to hop on…very, VERY easy to jump and ride this train…almost too easy.
We quickly climbed on board and hid until the train made the turn at the bend in the gully. We stayed hidden and made sure that none of the “yard guys” saw us. As soon as we made that turn in the bend we went to work.
I instantly jumped up and ran next to the car that Mike was looking at.
“This is how you do it,” I said to Mike as I slammed a hammer against the car door window and smashed it.
“What are you talking about?” Mike said back. “That’s the back door.”
He was right.
“Alrighty then,” I answered back.
So, as casual as I could make it, I went over and smashed the front door window.
We looked at each other. He looked at me as if I were crazy; reached over and opened the door by the handle.
There was no need to smash the windows – the doors were unlocked.
I jumped in the car and went to town. I smashed the shit out of that dashboard with that hammer trying to get at that radio. I got it down to the metal…damn, all I needed was a Phillips screwdriver. If I had that, I would have gotten that radio out a lot faster.
Oh yeah, that’s right…I got it out – with an ugly looking hammer.
And Mike got his out of the car he was in with his.
It was time to go.
We stuffed those two radios in the pillow case and when I was about to hit another car I heard Mike say something that changed everything.
“Jimmy. We have a problem…look!” Mike yelled as he pointed outside.
Mike was standing where we climbed on. I walked up to where he was standing and looked out.
“The train picked up speed!”
Oh my God. It was flying.
At the time, I would have said we were going 50 mph easy, but maybe now that I think about it, it was going about 25-30 mph – tops. That may not seem fast, but try saying that while hanging on the side of a train.
We didn’t know what to do. Things started to speed up. We’re like “Okay, okay…be calm.” Then we’d look out the train again and saw a sign that read GARY, as in Gary, Indiana. We needed to get off and get off fast.
We got our thoughts together and decided to get rid of the evidence. We’ll toss the hammers and the pillow case full of radios off the train and then if things go right, we’ll come back and pick them up.
We went to the other side of the train and looked out. There was just another set of tracks and a huge field. I tossed the hammers first. I tried to toss them gently and tried to remember where I tossed them, but it didn’t matter. I tried to toss them over the other side of the other set of tracks but I missed. Those hammers hit those tracks so hard they bounced right underneath the train. So much for those.
Mike tossed the pillow case of radios off the train and when they hit the ground, the whole pillowcase exploded. Those two radios flew into pieces.
So much for our BIG score.
We had to get off this train because we’re headed for Gary, Indiana… and that doesn’t mean it’s going to stop in Gary either. With our luck, we’d probably end up in Ohio somewhere if we didn’t do what we did next.
Mike thought quickly and came up with the idea of hanging on the side of the train and try to run with it – while still holding on to the train. When he thought the time was right, he would let go and just gradually slow down from running on his own.
At the time, it sounded like it’d work…
but it didn’t.
Mike took about three or four HUGE running steps and started somersaulting head-over-heels right next to the train. His boat shoes flew off in opposite directions. He had to have flipped six or seven times before veering off away from the train.
I had to have been at least 40-50 yards away before Mike came to a complete stop. He stopped in a patch of sticker bushes just to make matters worse.
“MIKE!” I yelled out from the train to see if he was all right. I saw him pick his head up and his arm signalling me he was okay.
I hung from the train like he did and decided that this was NOT for me. I climbed back in the train and decided to just run and jump off. That’s more my style.
I landed; rolled a little bit; jumped to my feet and ran over to see if Mike was okay.
He was a bit bloody, but he was okay.
I will never ask the question: “How in the HELL can you run yourself over?”
If you’re guessing where this is going – you’re correct…
I almost ran myself over.
I understand how it happened, I just can’t imagine what would have happened had my van actually ran me over. If it wasn’t for my “cat like” reflexes and my keen “sense of aware“, I might have gone to the hospital.
I know, I know… whatever.
But if you’re interested in reading on HOW & WHY it happened, then by all means – please, continue.
I was opening Lauers Pub in Calumet City, IL and decided to park directly in front of the tavern. When I came to a complete stop, I turned off the ignition before placing the gear in park. Quite simply – I forgot. The van was off, but it was still in drive.
I know what you’re thinking, but before you decide that I must be FULL OF SHIT, let me just tell you that my van was once a stolen vehicle. And in order for them to steal the van, they had to pop its ignition.
So now, that safety feature that disables any vehicle from starting if it is NOT in park…yeah, that feature has been disconnected in my vehicle and will now start in ANY gear (even reverse).
Needless to say, I jump out of the van and continued on with my day not realizing that I had not put the van in park. So it sat IN GEAR for half a day.
When it was time to go, I dragged ass back to the van and used a screwdriver to enable the starter/ignition. I crawled under the van and used the same screwdriver to jump the starter. This is when everything went wrong.
When the van started it instantly took off. If it wasn’t for my “cat-like” reflexes, this day may have ended on a more serious note. Luckily, with my self-taught ninja skills I managed to roll out of the way of the out-of-control van. Rolling from underneath a moving van while against a 6 inch curb was a bit tricky, but again…because of my athletic ability, I managed to avoid running myself over.
I sprang to my feet and started running after my van down the street. Fortunately, it turned towards the curb and jumped it. When the van hit the curb it slow down considerably making it possible for me to open the passenger side door and jump in.
The van was now heading towards a fire hydrant and I still wasn’t able to stop the van – just steer it. I quickly turned the steering wheel to the left to get back on the street – missing the hydrant by inches.
When the van rolled down from the sidewalk onto the street, I jumped over to the drivers seat and was able to take control.
I slammed on the brakes and took a minute or two to gather my thoughts.
Did that just happen?
I got my shit together and turned the van around.
While I was doing this, I noticed an old lady standing on her porch looking at me shaking her head.
You’re welcome, lady.
You’re welcome for the entertainment.
It was like any other summer week day night. Bored as hell, drinking beer like a fish drinks water and hanging out with three or four friends. I noticed a large can of Campbells Cream Mushroom Soup in the cupboard and remembered the movie starring Robert Duvall, “The Great Santini”
If you have never seen the movie, let me explain a certain scene to you:
We took some leftovers from a friend’s house (peas, carrots, &c.) and opened the family size can of cream of mushroom soup with a can opener. I dumped a little bit of the soup out into the garbage can, & filled it with the leftovers and a little water. I did this so the contents would not be so thick because I wanted it to pour out of the can a bit more easily when it was tilted over, we were trying to make it look as realistic as possible.
And it did!
The plan was fairly easy to follow, all we needed were the characters. Since somebody had to eat the fake vomit, that character role will be played by “yours truly” and by somebody else who had just as much low self esteem as me, Rash Key.
Next, we needed somebody to carry the fake vomit in the Campbell’s soup can into the White Castle. We nominated our “large-and-in-charge” red-headed friend to do the honors, Jay Jee.
We had Jee walk in with another friend who then walked straight to a booth and sat in it. The other friend went to place an order.
After that, Rash and I walked in and stood in line right behind our friend.
That was the signal. The plan was under way.
All of a sudden, Jee started making some loud dry heaving noises…and they just got louder & louder. People started to turn and look at what was going on.
Before anyone knew it, Jee made this very loud (and quite a long) sound of himself throwing up. He sounded possessed. Hollywood would have been proud.
The next thing you know, there was this (very realistic looking) puddle of PUKE on the table. Jee made an excellent performance and then soon made a quick get-away out the north exit.
(This was a common exit)
Exit – stage left.
People were confused, everyone looked at each other in amazement as if they couldn’t believe what they just witnessed.
Rash and I looked at each other – we were on.
We walked out of line and headed for the booth with the vomit-like substance on the table. I heard our other friend in line say to himself, “Oh my God.”
Oh my God was right, because the next thing I’m about to tell you actually happened:
Rash and I approached the vomit and started picking the mushrooms out of it and eating it.
Yes. Eating it.
It was fake of course, but if you didn’t know you would have swore that two crazy idiots were eating chunks of vomit that came from another idiot off the street.
A man had to actually cover the eyes of his two little boys, while looking at us as if to say, “What the hell are you guys doing?”
I heard people gasp. Our friend, got out of line and left the restaurant. Rash and I followed.
We walked out with cream of mushroom soup dangling from our chins, making sounds as if we were the undead.
“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou
Michael Jackson is not dead, it is a staged death - Just a Hoax- He is STILL Alive.
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