Bogalusa, LA
Ok so this is long but needed to be done for posterity. Also please let me know if anyone else went to this craigslist post in in Monroe for a STTNG. I wrote this in 3 sittings and have just cut and pasted for everyone.
So I have recounted my story to a few people but I decided to leave a more detailed record for the group as a whole about my experience with a particular craigslist ad.
A few weeks ago I noticed a craigslist add for a Star trek the next generation pinball machine. This is a well liked machine and 1 of the few machines I want in my short collection but have always passed due to the cost of this machine. The ad listed it for $1500 which is a great deal but the distance was 5 hours away in Monroe. After a day or two of no one grabbing it up, I thought I would send a text to inquire about the condition and status. The response I got was a badly spelled mixed bag of pieces of words that were designed to be a sentence. I got two more attempts at communication from the craigslister that was in the same format. I responded thanks for the info and I set about spending a few minutes deciphering the information he sent. After a few minutes I stopped and realized it may not be worth the effort because he may be crazy and a 5 hour drive for crazy is nothing I want right now. So I let the matter drop. A few weeks pass and I find the post is still active on craigslist. That's rather odd since it's a great price and people from 2 states should have grabbed that by now. At this point my brother calls me and says he has been in contact with the seller and he is a bit crazy but he is really interested in having someone come see it. All he has had is people wanting to low bid him and not commit to driving to see it. He claimed to have PTSD and he can not take all the calls he has gotten and all the requests for pictures of the machine. I looked at the information at hand and reviewed the pictures I had gotten from my brother and started to wonder if this guy may just be older and have that oh so common old person texting syndrome. After a conversation I get the story that he had gotten the machine in trade for work he had done a few years ago and he really needed the money now and that's why he was selling it. During our conversation I got a few more hints of crazy but I had laid low most of my feelings of trepidation by convincing myself he is just an older guy on hard times and not be use to the craigslist bullshit that I know is more prevalent then flies on shit these days. After about a day I get my mojo up and decide to go all in by doing a 5 hour one way and 10 hour both drive to Monroe and blow $100 bucks on gas.
After committing in my mind to this monetary waste of funds with a some what ambiguous goal of success, I was left to find a secondary companion for this misadventure. Having gained valuable experience and life lessons over the course of my pinball collecting habit such as "this shits heavy", and "Damn is this thing in an abandoned bar next to the cement factory with two heavy hitters waiting outside"; I started my search for a strong backed, male companion. I had sent out feelers and hoped past favors may scrounge up a willing participant for my long journey. But as luck may have it; explaining the point of being trapped in a 10 hour drive with me going to an unknown location had not panned out very well. With my brother offshore I was left to contemplate what actual means I was left with to secure a some what willing passenger. After a few more dead ends I was roused out of my dismal search for my co pilot by a knock at my door. I opened the door and was greeted by my wife's nephew. Knowing at once this was the answer to my travel companion issue. He met all the important criteria; he was blood, he was male, and well.... to be honest there was some negatives to this choice; mainly he was lightweight, with back issues. But he met the most important ones, he was young, his mom wouldn't miss him for a day, he had never picked up a pinball machine to feel the weight, and he was susceptible to $100 bribes.
The next day after he called out to work we began our mission at 6am. My co pilot who was not so accustomed to early hours quickly settled into a nice driving nap while making easy money. I passed our long 5 hour drive with my invented game of searching for music stations on the radio that were not country or rap. Some may be asking well, why not a satellite radio app, I had left my phone charger and I needed to save my battery for the road which will play a part later in the story. The drive passed easily by and 5 hours later we were on the street the craigslister had given me the night before. Being close I decided to call him and make sure he was ready because I would be arriving at the 11:30am the time we had agreed on. Well to my surprise no answer twice. Oh well the ole knock the door should work if worst comes to worst.
With no answer on the phone I started the visual checking of mail boxes. Soon I found the house I assumed, it was missing numbers and there was a guy outside. I pull up and call out a healthy "Hello Greg how's it going". To which the guy gave me a crap stare and responded "Greg lives next door, this is private property stay off". I politely apologized to this strange grumpy old man and said thanks and hopped back in the truck to finish my mission. As I pulled out the driveway of Mr unfriendly, I headed up the road a few feet and found the driveway to my destination. The driveway turned out to be a small path with over grown bushes and plants on both sides of it. I attempted to use it as it was originally intended for but soon found after 15 feet my truck could not proceed due to the overgrowth and a chopped up brush pile in the middle of it. As my concern for the no answer phone call grew and my fear this was some bad joke at my expense to waste gas money by a person on craigslist grew; I decided to exit the truck and take a look at what was going on. My traveling companion's face began to darken as I explained my plan for him to stay in the truck while I checked this out to see if a house even existed. Having laid the plan out I ventured out of the safety of my known space and started my walk up this deep derelict "driveway". Most people would have scrapped this adventure and probably did but for some reason I would not be deterred, I would have something to show for this drive.
No structure was visible from anywhere as I walked up the road. Everything seemed like it was abandoned and there were large truck load heaps of discarded building supplies. Seeing 4 or 5 of these heaps started my mind racing on the idea that these might be the remnants of the house I was suppose to visit as a prank or robbery attempt. I put the thought of robbery behind me as I kept walking thinking back to Mr Unfriendly's remark that Greg lived here. Who would be dumb enough to have someone come to their house to rob them. As I continued on my path to find answers I turned another over grown corner and was confronted with more strange debris. This time the debris was hard to determine what it was once purposed for. Air plane pieces maybe, and mechanical parts, and in one area a half buried open tool kit with all the sockets and wrenches still in the case.
As I pondered the strangeness of all I had seen I soon found that there was a house here. In reality when I first saw the building I loosely refer to as a house, "my mind did not go oh here's the house" my response was more" Oh my god". As my eyes raised to see this place I was forced to take in the whole image in one frightful moment. Confronted by this in one massive dose I froze, like a deer in the preverbal head lights, I froze. Unsure of what I was doing or why I was here, I froze. Before me stood something no man, I say no beast could have dreamt of or made reality. But here it sat, like some holy land for the filthiness of the world. In one horrifying place every depravity had coalesced. This place, forsaken by the sight of normal men, had some how survived. The property was flanked by some unknown trailer of unknown construction with windows and doors open. It was in essence a shipping container with a door and a window. Sitting next to this was a 2 story house with a long porch that sat 3 feet off the ground. I use the word "house" loosely in my description. It had 4 walls and at one time a more humanoid being may have dwelt here. The yard was fenced in by a mix of different styled decaying fences holding something in or maybe holding something back I didn't know at the time. The yard was 6 feet high and had a plush sofa in yard with an assortment of animals using it as a home. After a few moments of taking in my surrounds I realized I was out in the open on some nightmare property.
I thought better than to get shot so I vocalized my presence with a "Greg you home" call while standing outside the gate of this nightmare hoping the gate may be some protection. Greg appeared out of the maw of "the home" wearing no shirt, no shoes, and no underwear. In that instant I knew something had gone wrong and a path had been laid before me. I ask you think about one of the sexy guys you see on billboards or magazines where they are almost naked except for shorts and the shorts are low so you can tell by the hips there's nothing there but those shorts. Now imagine a homeless man living under a bridge in filth, then a sewer explodes on him in the pose I just mentioned. My eyes began to swirl around as I tried to figure out my next move. There was no hand book for what to do in this situation and now I had drawn attention to myself for fear of getting shot. Greg locked eyes with me and headed my direction while extending his hand out to shake mine. My mind raced at any reason not to touch him but came up with nothing that would not turn this situation worse. I reached my hand out and made a mental note to touch no part of my body with that hand till I could get it sanitized. At this point the being I first labeled as the more rational of the bunch emerged from the trailer cave having pants, a shirt, but no shoes. My mind seemed to deem him the more rational being due to the extra pieces of clothing. Later I would find I was grossly mistaken on the rational account. Greg seems happy to see me and drops the comment that he missed the call because he couldn't wake up. I glance at my watch and notice it's 11:30 and file that information under problem. Seconds after doing introductions I am blind sided by a wasp who comes out of a bush and without me ever seeing him stings me in the back of the neck on my spine and my nerves flare with pain. My eyes flare to big round orbs as my brain takes in what just happened. I am allergic to bee and wasp stings. My brain is screaming oh my god you are screwed. I am in this nightmare and I just got stung in the neck. I tell my new found friends of my dire situation and that I will need to find Benadryl soon. After telling them I also hope in my deepest of souls they do not have any. I want to touch or use nothing here. As I walk up closer to the house I feel safe that they do not own Benadryl or well anything.
As I pass closer I see trailer dweller playing with a living wasp and talking to it. He turns to me and says ohh I remember you from last night. I kindly interpose that I just drove up here today. To which he says" I didn't say I meet you, I had a vision of you". Now that I have been dealt this trump card of insanity I know I am on precarious ground. Trailer Dweller then goes on a series of questions of what do I drive to validate his vision. I seem to pass the test and he says I am good. Trying not to dwell on this too much and focusing on being alert I follow Greg. I have no idea why I did not just throw in the towel and escape. Every cell in my body was screaming; tell them you will be right back and run. For some reason my life seemed to devalue in price compared to the reward of this STTNG pinball. So I follow Greg to the porch. As I turn left I see the trailer is as I pictured in my mind from a distance; a desperate attempt to plunge into filth. The bed I can see is 2 feet from the open door on the floor strewn with remnants of anything that ever passed through the door. The door has a sign on it saying biological hazard, enter at your own risk. Both guys are talking to me now and I am some how on the porch. Half the porch is missing and large holes are there from some type of fire. I see the remains of a box spring laying on the porch and half of a exercise machine. My brain is swirling from some smell I am starting to become aware of. I get to the front of the house and notice many windows are broken but have been expertly repaired by stuffing clothing in the holes. I snap too a bit and realize I am doing pretty well; I have not been robbed or murdered. I soon realize the game I am playing and know crazy can not be reasoned with. You just get on that train and go with it. With my new found understanding I walk by some of the craziest shit I have ever seen in my life. Part of your house burned down no shit, mine did too. Yeah some bones on the porch having the marrow eaten out by ants; I got that happening on my porch as well. With that I walk into the house and immediately almost vomit. Knowing any looking down on there situation may drastically put me in harms way I muscle through. The room is completely empty except for cat piss, shit, darkness, and the vilest of orders and decay.
After dealing with the smell he hits me with the machine is upstairs. My heart sinks at hearing it and my eyes bulge as he points to some hanging body bags that were keeping the upstairs and down stairs separated. I try not to look in the corners for fear I may see something and I continue stoically; yeah my house smells like the vilest things in the world were blended together too; I like how part of the wall is missing, really brings nature in. I step softly over pans on the floor either being drops of cat food or possible different drops of other things. As I pass through the main room I am confronted with there is nothing here, not furniture, not anything besides the vileness I step over. As I walk up the stairs I am gladly surprised that there is a machine in the corner. I do a cursorily look and notice he has nothing of value. I notice a microwave a bed on the floor, a computer desk with a computer. The working computer is there so that this place's craziness can reach the outside world. As I take stock of the situation. Greg asks what am I thinking about and I respond how I don't want to drag that heavy machine down the stairs. Greg seems to be waiting patiently but I can see he is nervous a bit. My situation has changed a bit from a possible buyer to I have to buy something. I have entered a Drug fueled maniacs home, who has sold everything worth anything in this place. He is living in the vilest of places and doesn't care if rats eat his toes. He knows I have some type of money. Either I buy something or I risk being pushed into a more mantic outcome. This machine would have been gone too if only he could lift it and knew where to take it. At this point I offer him $800 to close my deal and run out of there before the wasp stings kills me or he does. Greg agrees because he needs smack I'm sure.
I go retrieve my companion for help. As we walk to the house I whisper to him "don't vomit and be prepared for the unholy foulness". I see my companion is unsure how to respond and looks at me like I may push him at them as a sacrifice to free myself. My companion starts to have another look come over him as he sees where I have brought him and he whispers to me "why didn't the animals leave them and run away". I shrug but I am unsure as well.
To be continued.
So as me and my unwilling companion head back to the worst place on earth to go back inside the house, I am struck by how well he is taking the situation. Sure he is quiet and showing scared nervous eyes but he hasn't balked and run screaming back to the truck; good man. I see my co pilots eyes darting to all same tourist sites I took in; weird biohazard trailer check, unknown sofa in yard with animals check, burned up porch check, bones being eaten by ants check, and finally holes in house fixed with clothes shoved in check. We quickly pass through the first room trying my best to deny breathing and looking too deep into the corners for fear of seeing something I shouldn't. I head for the body bag currently on the stairs and allow my companion up to the pent house. Once again I see my companions eyes go wide as he catalogs the scenes of depravity in this new undiscovered room for him. I on the other hand accepted the reality of this nightmare and found narrowing my focus on just a 5 foot area was best; besides I did not want to see something I shouldn't and set the situation on a tangent path.
I start to look at the machine now and point out issues I will have to deal with. I can see Greg does not understand many of the things I am talking about and most likely his brain has shut down to process 2 words; money and drugs. I check on my companion for a minute he seems to be fine. He is staring at a single window AC unit that looks like it fell out of a building and was beaten with a bat in a drug fueled rage. He seems to linger on the huge cracks next to the ac that allows hot air to blow back around into the somewhat cooler air coming out of the ac.
Knowing in my heart it's time to start stepping back out of this filth covered nightmare I decide I must save this pinball machine and have to have something to show for this ordeal. Having endured the worst experience of my life and knowing my poor companion who is a germaphob is now scared for life I shoot him an almost half off asking price. He haggles for a minute but then comes to $850. I agree and once again shake the hand of the most unclean, making a note again to touch no other part of myself with that hand. I send my companion out to the vehicle to secure the funds; he is happy to leave and asks if he should bring half till we get it fully loaded. It's normally a good and smart tactic but against the eyes of lust and crazed manic drug desperation I decide better to give him the agreed price now and secure our safe return.
As I wait for my companions return I inquire if he has a dolly. Greg responds that he loaned it to someone and they never brought it back. I translate this comment, Check, sold it for crack, got you. I start figuring out the logistics of how to get this down and in the truck. My truck can still not make it through to the house by the use of the driveway. I inquire about his neighbor Mr Unfriendly since I see he has a straight shot through his property and I could get my truck back through there easy. At this point both of my new drug induced psychopath friends go off. Trailer dweller responds "Oh no don't you piss him off, you know how he gets". I am taken aback by this response. These two maniacs seem more scared Mr. Unfriendly, who I had met 30 minutes before. I start rectifying the situation by a means these maniacs understand; cash. Hey think I could offer him $10 to let me drive through his property for 5 minutes. Both of the unclean horde agree this may work and send me to negotiate.
As I walk back across this property of desolation and visit all the tourist sites once again on my way to Mr Unfriendly I am struck by how I am now enlisting the help of an even crazier person who the unclean horde fear. Lucky or unluckily Mr Unfriendly is not home now and I head back to relay this fact. Greg snatches the $10 bucks and responds" If he comes back I'll give him the $10" as I watch my money disappear down a pocket I will never touch. Oh well $10 is gone $860 machine now. With that settled I turn into a stealthily drive through Mr Unfriendly's land hoping to finish the task before I was discovered and start the next great war of the crazed and unclean. I wonder a bit about what power Mr Unfriendly might posses that would scare these immune to death or disease people. I settle on the idea that he is most likely armed and can call in the forces of the 5 O/pacman. At this time my co pilot arrives with my hidden stash of cash. I unfortunately have to dig around and pull out money hoping that Greg's averse eyes do not catch site of the higher possible benefit of robbing us now.
After clearing the barter we set about bringing the machine down stairs and my companion discovers what the heaviest pinball machine feels like. I feel bad about the realization he is going through but my choices are limited. Even with 3/4ths naked Greg helping, moving this would require Atlas. I settle into the realization that it must be done to secure our exit from these premises and I begin the idea of lift and drag. I ask a completely unneeded question of Greg out of courtesy. "Greg do you care if we drag it on the stairs, it may damage them". Of course he doesn't care, if he did he wouldn't use the floors as a latrine. I tie the head of the machine down with straps and take the front of the machine so that if anyone is hurt or crushed it will be me. To be honest if anything did happen my co pilot would have little chance without me. I am sure Greg even in his deliria of drug withdrawal would figure out quickly that if I was killed by being crushed it would be a lot easier to dispose of two dead bodies then to call authorities and explain the crushed man in this unholy house of the filthily, plus he would gain 2 pairs of pants, socks, shoes and shirts. I keep this unspoken truth to myself seeing my companion is struggling with holding enough weight so I am not crushed and trying with every drop of his soul to not have any part of his body touch 3/4ths naked Greg. Needless to say the stairs are not fully wide enough and I am nearly crushed 3 times by being on the bottom. But I manage to hold it with inhuman strength, my willingness to die here and be buried under the decaying sofa in the front lawn driving my body into dumping huge amounts of adrenaline into my system. Once we get it down the stairs we use the lift and drag technique to the door. I would never employ such techniques on a pinball machine in normal circumstances but in the situation I found myself in; I saw it more akin to dragging a wounded buddy with a sucking chest wound to safety through the middle of a raging firefight. A little damage was acceptable for a trade off of speed to reach friendly lines. At this point I am sucking wind like a marathon runner and I don't even notice the reek I am sucking into my lungs.
My companion is shell shocked from his ordeal and is talking gibberish about lifting the machine and walking 90 feet to the truck over uneven ground and 6 ft high "growth" through infested wasp land. I feel every inch of this 450 pound monster and know through experience this is impossible with me carrying one side and walking backwards through this. Still the sight of 3/4ths naked Greg and the cheers of trailer dweller telling us were amazing combined with the view of being able to see my truck galvanized me back into motion. So began the duck walk of pain. It was going well 30 feet into the trek. My eyes were still clear after being stung in the neck by a wasp, which I am allergic t,o and I was getting closer to the truck. Thirty feet from the truck I stepped into a pot hole and shouted a warning of the direction of where me and the machine were going "DOWN". I cushioned the impact with my mainly bags of water body and was surprised my legs had not sheared off. My co carries had let their end hit the mud. At this point I dragged myself out and decided sucking wind for a minute was a good respite for building my strength back. After a minute or two we dead lifted the pin and walked the remaining distance to the truck. Feeling that machine hit my truck bed was like crossing some imaginary finish line. At this point I had enough of a pinball machine to run for freedom. Greg found three of the legs and 3 bolts for the machine. I responded" Three is just right for the legs and I found all the bolts up there (I lied)". I had enough and nothing he could find or that I was missing was worth 1 more minute in this spiral into dysentery and disease. I waved to 3/4ths naked Greg and left trailer dweller to what ever hole he slithered back to. My companion had already entered our escape pod from madness. I hopped in the truck not even bothering to strap anything else down.
My mind snapped around to my new situation of driving through Mr Unfriendly's property. After a minute of calculation I realized this was probably a complete surprise attack and I would be in the clear since he would have to run inside to secure a firearm and by then I would be long gone on the road letting the horde of filth to deal with that. To my surprise the path was clear and Mr Unfriendly had not returned home. Me and my co pilot are giddy about both being alive and the taste of air not polluted by the decay of the most unclean. We laugh at our shared fear of catching something these mutants immune to death might have passed on when a thought hits me like a nightmare...
"Where's my tools" I scream and start pounding the wheel; knowing as I spoke these words they were awaiting a rescue mission at the top of the from house hell. My companion pleads with me to leave them behind that nothing is worth going back for. I see his logic oh so clear as well but I can not leave a man behind that's worth $700 bucks. I try and talk to him to get him back engaged in stepping back into the heart of darkness. I try telling him to just hop out and tell them I left my tools and grab it and run back to the truck. But my co pilot has been spoiled by the safety and comfort of the truck and friendly lines. I try explaining "Just do this for me I had to man handle that monster and barely can walk now" He says no he can't. He looks me in the eyes and says," they are probably already cooking up shit now". I try and reason that he is right but they would have to call someone first to deliver it, we have time. I try threating to cut his pay if he doesn't get out (which I wouldn't have done, just a tactic)" but nothing could jar him out of leaving the sanctuary of the truck and I knew he had been pushed to far and would not be able to endure it again. So I left him with a phone and the keys incase I did not return. As I approached this habitation for Nurgle, god of disease and derelict filth I knew quickly this was the worst mistake coming back and that my second worst mistake was going there in the first place...
To be continued.
Final installment- Maw of Despair
Just to recap, me and my companion had loaded up the machine when 3/4ths naked Greg had tried to add himself to my list of passengers in my truck with the statement " I'll be coming with you I need some cigarettes" I quickly avoided having any piece of this walking disease enter my escape pod with "I have to get straight on the highway and I am not going anywhere your headed". This seemed to leave Greg quiet but had the desired effect of saving us an smaller enclosed environment with Greg.
As my previous story had stated my tools were left behind at the House of hell on the 2nd story and I had to travel back to retrieve it. After trying everything I could to get buy in from my companion to reinsert himself into this rescue mission for my tools, I was left with realization this was going to be a solo mission. My co pilots traumatic experience into the spiral decline of human nature and vileness had eroded all but his sense of safety in my truck. As I left him my 2% battery phone, and heard him quietly mumbling "never get out the boat, never get out the boat"; I preceded to recover my tool box.
I once again pass all the famous cites of desperation and filth and shout out Greg's name. No answer. I get closer and repeat my call but again get the same no reply. All I hear is the absence of human noise. Fantastic. I want to get out of this place as fast as possible so I forge forward across this landscape of vile depravity and journey up the half burned 40 ft porch. I make it to the door of this nightmare house with pieces of clothes shoved between broken glass windows and knock. I get no human response again just the set off of 10 crazed animals that cohabit this hole. All I can think is great, great; the unclean horde has already fled this shanty to secure their smack. My mind quickly begins a risk analysis report on my options of quietly entering inside and grabbing my bag; when trailer dweller emerges behind me. At first I am pleased to see trailer dweller. I had not had as much conversation with him in my first encounter, having given up after he related having a vision of me but I had hopes this encounter would be fast and easier to deal with than 3/4ths naked Greg. Trailer dweller had more clothes on and I believe this transferred a possible higher status than 3/4ths naked Greg. He also seemed cleaner (if that term can even be used when dealing with a society like I found) and perhaps not as far down the withdrawal drug crazed maniac scale. Preferring not to have to enter their premises without invitation and face what that might bring. I explain my presence in small detail and my objective to get my tools back. Trailer dweller then asks if I had gone inside to get it. I respond "no I just knocked; I would never barge into someone's house, it's more respectful to knock". Trailer dweller then turns to me and responds" Your right, everything is respect and you don't want to do that here; Did Greg come down?". I think to myself hell no I don't want to do that here and no Greg didn't come down; did I hide him in a shoe box behind my back where you can't see him. I feel that slippery slope of insanity starting to turn the ground I am on sideways.
"No I have not seen Greg".
"Sometimes he lays down and has a hard time waking up"
I nod and translate that as he od's a lot when he has smack and often times dies for 8 hours but the earth refuses to take his body due to his immunity to death and disease so he returns to life later that day. Trailer dweller then takes initiative and opens the door and lets out that horrid stink of the most foul things alive in this world. I suggest that I don't want to disturb them and that I can wait outside if he just wants to run up stairs quick and grab my tools. This tactic to escape the horrific experience I had 40 minutes before is a loss. Trailer dweller says we can go get it together and starts a conversation as we enter Hell 2.1 revised edition; now upgraded with 10 somewhat living animals in the bottom """"living Room""" which is barren except for shit, piss, and indescribable foulness. I set into a prescribed pattern of the least amount of steps to enter the upstairs while trying to have my shoes land in what appeared to be the least violated areas of the floor. I quickly scoop up my bag and head for the door and I am on the porch in seconds.
I feel somewhat pleased with my second mission and set about making my good bys with trailer dweller. Trailer dweller has continued to carry on a conversation with me as I try to exist the situation. Trailer Dweller then explains he is going to carry my bag for me. I tell him I appreciate it but I am younger and it's heavy; I'll do it. He insists he is going to carry the bag for me. I now register parts of the conversation he has been having with me in the house and I start to asses my risk vs reward model again. I don't want to set trailer dweller off so I concede to his help. During this exchange he asks if we got 4 legs of the machine, and I tell him we had 3. I had forsaken 3/4ths naked Greg looking for the last leg in lieu of speed of escaping the trip before. My new bag carrying companion goes under the porch and produces the last leg from a brush pile. Well I guess that was where it should be. He hands me the 3 1/2 ft long heavy metal leg. I try to start our journey back but he stops on the porch and begins to explain some things to me. My progress stopped from my route of escape I stand next to him and listen intently because I realize my journey has hit a precarious part.
Trailer Dweller starts out into some weird hierarchy of jobs and god. He explains to me for years he just banged his head against the world. Then he found him and it all changed. Well at this point I am thinking; ok it's one of these found god, god is good deals. I am not to bothered by this but I play the good conversation partner and add in my little quirks to keep the story moving so I can secure my road home trip. "Yeah sometimes it happens that way" and the "You have to be open to see him". Well the conversation moves on and I decide best way out is to get on this train and follow it. At this point he starts in on how god crushes man like an insect and he I see him getting worked up now. He begins smashing his bare feet into the porch making the whole 40 ft structure shake. He goes on into how god crushes the blind men and the penitent man the same but he is more merciful on the penitent man. Trailer dweller is still punctuating his conversation with earth shattering feet stomps into the porch. I can feel the crazy trailer I am hijacked on speeding up. I know this game and it's either your in or your out and there's consequences for both. I mentally check off in my head that 3/4ths naked Greg probably was the better person to deal with then Psychopathic Dementia induced Trailer Dweller now; more clothes did not add any greater rationality to this situation.
I know the score and I have my eyes wide open looking at his bulging crystal clear stair of utter madness and return the look with a bright hard flint stare of unflinching calmness. At this point we head the straight away downward plunge of psychotic madness. Trailer Dweller stops to end the rant and begins " I am the polar opposite of god. God is positive and I am his negative. Jesus is my husband and the devil is my lover. And they are all inside of me here" as he beats his chest hard. As Psychopath Trailer Dweller opens the full the door to his mind to me and the crazy train I board derails completely I start to prepare. I start to let the pinball leg slide down my hand slowly till my hand is holding it at the base where the bolts go. I test the weight and feel of it in my hand by making very slow undetected movements to the slight left and right as my eyes are locked with my bag carrying companion. The balance feels good in my hand and I am confident that I'll walking out of here without a problem if it comes to it. If it goes it should just be two swings. Waiting to see how this who thing goes down I continue with my "that's a lot to think about" and " I know what you mean". I try and spure an escape by explaining I have to get my companion back home to his Mom( I act like my 21 yr old companion is 15 hoping he can't tell the difference). Trailer dweller thwarts my attempt with " I knew you were going to stay that, that's why I started walking" and true we started a slow walk through this forgotten lost land starting the 40 yard walk to the truck.
During this walk trailer dweller confides in me he was given a mission from god and the world is changing. My hand firmly on my pinball club I listen and come along. The poles have switched and he is to destroy all the money in the world and begin a nation of barter. He sees me and says he knows I am the right one. If I want a house I will have it. I am the man to manage it all for him. It's coming. Once again I try and break free and tell him he doesn't have to walk back with me to the truck he is bare footed and the place is filled with crap. He tells me he is protected by the holly spirit and he is infused and it will not harm him. He then walks down through a brush pile and jumps up and down in it proclaiming nothing will hurt him. Firmly held hostage in this crazy train we proceed. Being trapped in this situation for 25 minutes my 5 minute solo mission has collapsed. My companion unknown to me at the time is racked by confusion and fear of my death due to the time frame. He has contacted my brother, my wife and is 5 minutes from calling the police and leaving me. My companion is staying firmly in the safety of the trucking looking down the driveway when he sees only psychopath trailer dweller coming up the road with my tools. The thoughts going through his mind is unknown to me but I am sure his eyes were wide and I was about to be left behind.
Finally we reach the truck and he begins a final load rant with finger pointing at me which drives home my situation. My co pilot I can see in the truck on the phone is witnessing this display and he seems to be getting concerned because I can see him sitting up straighter and eyes widening. At this I am presented the offer to become a disciple of Psychopath Trailer dweller to help in god's plan in which I will be rewarded. I kindly refuse the job at this time due to me not being a crazy brick house shit rat and tell him he has given me a lot for me to think about. He tries to give me his number to so that I can contact him and return once I have thought on what he has said. I said no number was needed I have 3/4ths naked Gregs. He tells me Greg can't be trusted with something like this and I agree. I tell him I know where he lives now and I come back now. I get back into my escape pod and wave by and whisper to my co pilot to lock the door. Disturbed by the witnessed encounter he asks what's happening. I tell him he wants us to stay or wants to come with us. I also rely the instructions that if he tries to hope in push him off and I will handle the driving. My companion inquired about 3/4ths naked Greg and I responded " He had money in his hand when we left I am sure he ran on foot to the first drug dealer he knew and will be found in a ditch od'd in 5 days".
After departing this forsaken nightmare both me and my co pilot headed for the nearest truck stop. At which point we both took a somewhat military shower in the sink. After existing the bathroom we bought sanitizer and baby wipes and preceded to sanitize every exposed inch of our body even our lips and nostrils. I explained my ordeal to my companion on the drive home and he explained how he was going to leave me and call the police to recover my body. For the 5 hour drive home we nervously recounted the horrors we had seen and laughed that we had survived this encounter with this tribe of the vilest depraved land and people. My companion was paid his $100 retainer fee which I am sure was not worth the 1.5 hours of horror and disease he experienced but I am sure I have given him something he will never top. This type of degradation and slip into madness will never be topped by anything again. I would have no issue going into a crack house and sitting on the sofa to take a nap; it would be like a Ritz Carlton compared to the place we found and both left behind. In time my mind will block this event out for the security of my sanity I am sure. But here is a true account of this place where we met 3/4ths naked Greg and Psychopath Trailer Dweller and how they allowed us to enter into there most vile plunge into filthiest possible existence fueled by desperation of drugs and insanity.
