A Night in Elgin, IL

It was a desperate friend who got me into the shit. Let us say he needed some fast green, the folding God, not Buddha. So I did a little something-something to make sure it happened for both of us. That old platitude about a friend in need gets me every time. I may be far from Romney as far as money goes, but I do tend to have a share of dollar bills in my pocket garnered through various methods. Since I’d already taken this guy in a fight I had pity for him. Plus, he’s a drug fiend. While I am not, I used to be, and I understand the pain. I figured fuck it—why not walk down to Hooper’s Bar and hook him up? Shit, pay it forward.

So here I am, walking down the street with my green in pocket, making my way to pay it forward when so many cops roll down Braeburn it looks like the goddamn Chicago Pig Brigade. My dick shriveled from the size of a dollar bill into an eraserhead…damn, I had no idea what these authoritarian cunts were after, and by past experience, it is usually me. There are some who know me who may dispute this. Go to www.blackbook.com for my extensive criminal record. I’m not proud of it, but it is there.

Tonight, I did not matter. Good.

I made it to Todd Farm road, and noticed that damn near every squad car from the EPD had stationed themselves at either end of the road, sporting sniper rifles, Glock 36’s, and fucking who knew what else. Johnny Law owned the night. I dipped in to Hunter’s Ridge apartment complex, pushing through the six inch gap left between the gates as per usual. My brain worked. What was this? A gang war? Sting operation? Certainly it had nothing to do with me or the—

Wait. Fuck you. I’m not admitting that in public.

Anyway, I continued to walk and heard PAPAPAPAPAPAP! which is quite a familiar sound to me, having lived on both 136^th street in Chicago and also East Chattanooga. Did I saunter, ballsy-like? FUCK NO! I RAN BITCH! What would you have done?

You see, Chicago, as much as certain southerners would like to drawl about how it “ain’t shit, bubba” happens to be the MOST violent city in the fucking country and in the top ten most violent cities in the world. I can barely walk down the street at night without some jackass fuckface talking shit. I ignore most of it, but there have been occasions involving pairs of scissors that I have no intention of admitting. Anyone who wants to dispute this can come for a visit. If the Mexicans don’t kill you for looking stupid chances are the GD’s will.

I hate this place. It’s always fucked up. People get killed here all the time. I’ve seen dead bodies on the side of the road. So many that now their fake-looking waxen eyes do not faze me in the slightest. So you safe little Dade County people and Lookout Valley people keep this in mind—this fucking place is HELL. You know what I’d love to see? A Chicago cop versus a Dade County cop. NO CONTEST. The Chicago cop would fuck that Dade county cunt up so fucking fast the little shit wouldn’t even register what happened.

Still, I intend to move back to the south because I’m sick of going to sleep to the sound of gunfire. Only East Chatt, North Chatt, and Brainerd can halfway compare to the shit that goes on around here. Chicago is a fucking CESSPOOL. Even the cops are dirty. They’re the dirtiest motherfuckers on the planet and very likely always have been.

Sleep well, lovers.