Pagan Poetry

Second to last chapter lol

July 17^th, 2010:

    It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written about my misadventures due to me being preoccupied with work. As a little update: Tarkovsky actually ended up surviving both samples I gave to him, I’ve completed my four ton batch for Elizabeth and the only person left on Jesus’s top ten list is his republican rival Leopold Savage. Some of that sounds a tad bit bizarre and convoluted, so I’d just like to break down each situation starting with Tarkovsky.

Ivan Tarkovsky:

    Tarkovsky himself turned into a literal fiend for my product. He told me he’s never taken anything that made him feel so alive in his life. Even went into this bullshit about how he can now use telepathic communication with people to control their subconscious at will and went into how he shot himself in the chest with a 45. Caliber desert eagle twice and didn’t feel a thing. Yes, he actually showed me the wounds and yes I don't know myself how the f**k he survived those two to the chest. Because of this and me selling to everyone on his list, he bought forty pounds off of me and gave me another list with twelve clients. The list included German businessmen, a supposed former general of the Ukrainian army, German arms dealers and of course his good buddy Mondo Crane.  

Elizabeth Milano and Jesus Cortez:

    I went with Lee’s advice and decided to record my interactions with members of Jesus’s list but give the twins the recordings to edit out my voice. Under strict orders from Jesus I had to do three people per week with three days in between each meeting. The only person left is his opponent Leopold. The reason he wants Leopold out is because Leopold has dirt on Jesus about his corruption all the way back to the days of him being district attorney.        

    He knows of his dealings with Elizabeth, Melvin Mendoza, Tarkovsky and even has enough evidence to expose Jesus using his brother Henry as a body double. Jesus finds the man an obvious threat because of all the dirt he has on him and even threatened to clean out all the bad apples in the police department working directly with the Lugosi crime family. Even though Leopold is doing the right thing, he’s only doing it as a political crutch to make Jesus look bad. Leopold is a homophobic bigot who is a KKK member along with Mendoza and continues to fund all gangs in south Florida with the illegal distribution of non-prescribed Oxycodone. It’s annoying having the chief of police and the mayor (in most cases Henry not Jesus) forcing me to meet for coffee every weekend since the operation, pestering me to whack Leopold since he’s a rat. Melvin is a fifty-three year old Spaniard with a Cuban mother; however, he always identifies himself as Caucasian. He has grey buzz-cut hair, weights 200lbs, and has a mustache thicker than Magnum P.I. I would have coffee with them while they talk their s**t. He even gave me a gun with the serial number filed off it.

    "So what you’re doing is you’re gonna’ pop’em in the mouth, clean the piece with a cloth and place it firmly in his left hand. Make sure it’s his left-not his right, because he’s left handed. After that give us a call and I’ll have my boys down in CSI take care of the rest." Said Melvin, handing me a jumbo 12x18 envelop with a Ruger LCP pistol in it. He’s so passionate about me killing Leopold he even put a small sticker on it which said "Rat Poison" in red ink.

    Melvin’s a peculiar fellow. He pretends to be easy going to the public, yet he’s a closeted psychopath with an ego bigger than his own dick.

    "No can do. That operation is completely out of my realm of expertise."

    "Tha' kid’s right Mel. He’s not a hitta’ and it’ll lead ta'more breadcrumbs." said Henry.

    Melvin squints at me, then to Jesus (Henry).

    "The f**k you mean we can’t do it? The hell you mean-of course we can! I’m the chief of f*****g police." Melvin’s eyes quickly widens. "What-just because some nerd [Melvin quickly points at me] is scared to get his precious hands dirty? What the f**k are ya even payin’ him for?" Said Melvin condescendingly.

    I had to tell this bozo what he’s demanding me to do is outside my job description.

     "Production and distribution. I didn’t sign up to be you two’s build-a-thug just because YOU fucked up." I said to Melvin, condescending him back.

    Melvin then looks at me, bites his lip, grinds his teeth and looks me in the eyes like he’s about to knock me out. "The f**k did you just say to me f****t?!" snapped Melvin.

    I quickly responded "I said-"

   Jesus(Henry) cuts me off "Tha' kid is right! Plus you didn't even supply him with a suppressor. There's no reason to get his hands dirty for the sake of your ego man. We gotta' play this smart and not add more problems when we got our solution right here."

    "It’s not a matter of ego. It’s a matter of principle. You know how I HATE whistleblowers and rats. I cannot afford to have my career and freedom ruined over politics and I sure as f**k don't want my voters to see my arrest records!" Said Melvin aggressively. "All I'm sayin' is he needs to be eradicated quickly and painfully."

    "And he will. Believe me, he will. You already know I don't f***a' round. I wouldn't hire tha' kid if I didn't know what I'm doing. Tha' s**t he has is going to make it look like Leo had an aneurysm. It will prove he isn't healthy to take office and all I'll have left as competition are no name rookies with a under budget campaign. Just trust me on this- I know what tha' f**k I'm doin'."

    Melvin then stares at me. I stared back at him.

    "You better be right about this. How long will it take to whack'em?" asked Melvin.

    Henry responded, "After today his schedule is full til' the eighth. I'll hire a male-ho to lead Leo venturing into a drug fueled night of BDSM sex and then he'll pop the product from there. We can't have it done instantly or else it will be too obvious."

    "The public is still going to come up with conspiracy theories about all this, you know that right?" Asked Melvin.

    Henry responded, "Since when did you ever care about those tin-foil f***s?! More than half of their facts are wrong anyway and they still have to shovel through a lot of bullshit to get to tha' truth. That's why there THEORIES. Just a bunch of confused sheep, it's business as usual. No one's gonna' believe it and just have your boys in blue on high alert between then and elections. Simple piece of cake. Stop your worryin' Mel, I got it all planned out."

    Regardless Jesus wants me to meet with Leopold on the seventeenth day of the seventh month, just to send a message. Jesus is more of an occult weirdo than Mendoza. Melvin just hates kids loves taking advantage of his power. Don't you f*****g dare tell me this guy isn't a closeted psychopath in need of a thorough psychological evaluation.

    Also, my visits with Ms.Proudstar is every Sunday morning at seven. I’ve somewhat opened up to her about Vivian but I always try to avoid the topic. The main topic of concern is usually me witnessing innocent bloodshed. I did open up to her about the Tarkovsky meeting, but I’m getting over it day by day. I do however question what my dreams are about. I should maybe get into that rather than me talking about murder or death.

    As I write, I’m right outside of Leopold’s hotel room. I’ve been standing outside for about two minutes, however I hear movement walking towards me. Meaning I have to put off writing for later.

July 18^th, 2010:

    It's Sunday morning and I just came back from talking with Ms.Proudstar. I went into the topic of my dreams and the analyzation she got was pretty much her soul is still with me. Like almost as a guide. It's very weird and complex metaphysical s**t I rather not get into it because it's not important. 

    Anyway, my god that operation with Leopold was the most awkward job I've ever done to date. I have to f*****g write every detail about this madness. I walked into an aftermath of Leopold having a threesome with two Hispanic males nearly the same age as me.

    One of the men asked me who I was and Leo responds, "Its’s my plug. I’ll be right with you two in a second." He walks up to me apologetically, cleaning (what I’m going to assume either semen or sweat) off his face with a black handkerchief.

    "I apologize for you walkin’ in on a mess. I had a bit of a schedule conflict, so to make my life more efficient I have to make things stretch.
    I look at him trying my best to not act stunned.

    "No pun intended. I have a press conference in twenty minutes and a rally forty minutes prior to you being here. Any way I don’t wanna waste your time, wanna talk out on the patio?"

    I responded to him "sure." So we go out on the patio and we got straight to business.

    "So you work for Milano?"

    "I work for myself. How much you want?"

    "How much a "G"?"

    "One-hundred."

    "And your name is?"

    "Alan f****n’ Alda-yo why all the f****n’ questions? Stick to business."

    "And this is the s**t they say makes you survived two FMJ’s to the chest and make you telepathic?"

    "Sure."

    "Hmmm, psychedelic or?"

    "It’s a stimulant with psychoactive properties."

     "Well s**t I usually do these rallies all perked up, but this s**t…alright, how long is the high?"

    "Each capsule is 150mlgs, which is a dose of five hours."

    "Alright kid, give me five-hundred "G"s."

    "Come with me to my car please."

    "Where’d you park?"

    "Down the road in a plaza. Everything is in a briefcase in my trunk."

    As we got to my car, I went in my trunk and gave him the briefcase full of product and my folder of contracts to sign. He signed my contract then pays me my commission.

    "So let me ask you, you make this s**t yourself?"

    "I indeed do sir."

    "What do you know about MDMA and Xanax?"

    "Quite a lot. Why?"

    "Well, there’s going to be a new wave where opiates of a medical origin is going to be the new cocaine. I’m just thinkin’ if maybe you wanna merger?"

    "How so?"

    "A 40/60 deal. I give you my people, you produce the product. Plus more money in our economy for sure."

    "Not interested."

    "You have no idea what offer you’re turning down here! Molly and Xanax is the "it" thing now and this year is only just the beginning of a new era! What’s Jesus and that c**t Milano paying? I bet it ain’t chicken s**t compared to what you’ll be making with this! You got a wide demographic. College kids, soccer moms, lawyers, judges, teachers, even n*****s f**k with pills-come on my boy; think outside the box."

    "I’m not your f****n’ boy and I’m not interested. I already have enough s**t for me to take care of on my own, what makes you think I’m going to take on the responsibilities of a total stranger?! Get real!" I then slam my trunk shut and walk into my car. As I got in I slammed my door. Leo now walks up to my car pissed.

    "You know what you are?! You’re a f*****g dipshit turning me down just to work with those f*****g blood drinking spics! You’ll f*****g regret working for that psychotic c**t too! You think the police are gonna’ save ya' when she bites ya’ f****n dick off and feed you to the homeless?! No! She’s the f*****g feds and you wanna' get caught all up in that web of corruption just because you don’t like me and you think narcotics are too good for you ah? Well you’re a f*****g hypocritical coward and tell Mendoza, that yank c**t and those blood drinking spics to go f**k their mother’s a*s, I’m coming for them!"

    I pull out the gun Mendoza gave me from out of my glove compartment and aimed it straight at Leo. "BACK THE F**K AWAY FROM MY CAR!"

    Leopold immediately backed off and I sped away. After that I drove straight to the Korean supermarket to meet with Lee. I gave him the recordings and the twins began editing overnight. Right now it’s eleven AM and I woke up to a call from Elizabeth telling me to meet up with the head of the Lugosi family Mort. Apparently they want a big order ready by six PM this evening.

    I had to pretty much transfer one ton of this product in my van while making it look like I’m selling my van…which I technically am.

    By 6:00PM I have everything ready and had to meet them down by the pier. I meet up with Mort and his son Ash. Mort has greying blonde hair and looks to be in his late sixties while Ash is a blonde forty-seven year-old capo who also runs a white supremacist biker gang known as "The Ethnic Cleansings".

    On my way to the pier, I bump into Alvah and Alice on the sidewalk by the beach. I quickly pull out my phone to call Elizabeth.

    She then answered aggressively.

    “What?!”

    “Are you following me?!”

    “No, Alvah took my daughter to the beach to meet up with her friends.”

    “Why is that creep with her?! I told you never to involve him in any of my operations.”

    “My daughter can be around whoever the f**k I deem worthy you little twat-and you only said not to get him involved with distribution. In which he’s not.”

    “Milano, Alvah is a creep. You know what-whatever. Have you even seen his criminal record?”

    “Yes, and it shows he doesn't give a f**k. The perfect candidate to protect my daughter and transfer my sugar products. He’s only with her for protection, just a loyal dog of mine, nothing more. If anything happens to her he KNOWS it’s his a*s! Anyway how far are you from those Irish mutts?”

    “Those what?!”

    “The Lugosi's.”

    “About sixty yards straight ahead.”

    “Ahh lovely. So relax Jorge, mind ya’ f*****g business and GET THE F**K BACK TO WORK-I’M BUSY!”

    “She then hanged up on me.”

   Alvah walks straight to me with a cocky grin. "Hey Hey-w***e. I’m sorry, Jorge. HA-HA, I remembered that was my nickname for you in high school.”

    “It was Vivian’s nickname for me in middle school you a*****e. Get the f**k out of my face, I got s**t to do.”

    "Whoa-whoa-whoa Barry Allen, I’m just joking around bro." He then playfully slaps my right arm. "No need to get all defensive in front of the poor lady now."

    “Alice, be very careful around this guy.”

    Alice then looks at me but doesn’t respond.

    “Look dude, Alice is in safe hands. She has nothing to worry about in MY company. However you seem to be the one to attract trouble everywhere you go. You need to clear up your vibrations dude and not be so uptight and paranoid all the time.”

    “I don’t got time for your fuckery Alvah. Get out of my face.”

    He then turns to Alice and lowers his voice to her. "Hey Alice, I’ll meet up with you by the shoreline. Give me a ring when your friends come, okay?"

    "Sure thing" she responded hesitantly and walked off towards the shore. I tried to walk pass him, but he immediately steps in my way.

    “Hold up- hold up- hold up! Me and you clearly have some bad blood, alright. Now look Jorge I want to apologize for being a dick growing up. I lacked direction, I hated everything and just dealing with others emotions is just really hard to relate to. I’m a bit anti-social and to make up for that I tend to be a dick because I don’t know how to feel. I know you're still grieving over Vivian's death and also upset about the history I had with her. I want you to know that you have my condolences and I'm here for you if you ever want to get things off your mind. I'm worried about you dude and it really hurts to see you like this. Why waste your potential when you could be out there saving lives and curing mental illness? You shouldn't be such a shut in. You need to start trusting people more” I look at him like he’s a f*****g idiot.    

    "Don’t use your psychology on me you f*****g psychopath. You grew up resentful at everything and you think the world should revolve only around you and you weren't even there for the funeral you sick b*****d. Stay the f**k out of my way you manipulative piece of s**t."

    He looks at me and smiles. "Damn Jorge, that really hurts man. I was still in jail the week everything happened. Wow. Ha-ha. I pour out my soul to you and you're so f*****g paranoid you're going to be cold to me like that?”

    I grinded my teeth and squeezed my right fist out of anger. "You're a pathological liar. I don't believe a f****n' word you say." I responded.

    "Okay. Oh so what-this is you telling me about myself?" Said Alvah walking closer to me.

    "Yep."

    "Alright let me tell you something about YOURSELF Jorge. You pretentious, paranoid, lonely, workaholic, meticulous, hermetic-OCD HAVING A*S! Negative as f**k, got angst for the world having a*s! My parents didn’t love me having a*s! My forever alone give me pity having a*s-I'm gonna die alone having a*s! My girl cheated on the jailbird motherfucka’ you’re staring at right now having a*s! Yeah that’s right Jorge. I fucked your b***h raw in your own f*****g bed, cause ya wanted to spread your a*s for big pharma and ya junkie b***h wanted smack. P***y!”

    I immediately spit in Alvah’s face and punched him straight in his f*****g mouth.

    "GET AIDS AND DIE YOU F*****G SODOMITE!"

    I walked straight passed him, going towards the pier. Alvah got back on his feet, cleaned his face with his shirt and smiles.

    "WATCH YOUR A*S JORGE." He yelled at me as I walked away from him. I swear to god I wanted to kill him right there and then... but I had to be professional and go to the Lugosi's. I'm already three minutes late thanks to that dickhead.

    I got to the pier and met up with Mort. Mort was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt and black shorts and he was smoking a cigarette.

   I walk towards him. He then turned to me.

    “Mr.Lugosi?”

    “You Goldwasser?”

    “Yes sir.”

    “You're three minutes late.”

    “I apologize sir.”

    “It's whatever. I ain't got s**t to do til midnight. You hungry?”

    “I'm fine sir.”

    “You got your van on you right?”

    “Yes sir.”

    “Sweet, alright I'm gonna' pick up my son and we head on to my office to discuss payment. Sounds good?”

    “Works for me.”

    “Want a stog?”

    “I'm not a smoker, sorry.”

    Suddenly his son Ash walks pass me to Mort. Ash is also smoking a black and mild wearing a black Cannibal Corpse t-shirt with blue slim-fitted jeans tucked into black combat boots.

    “This the guy? I'd never guess this dude's a pusher.”

    “Ash what the f**k I tell you about smoking that s**t around me?! I hate that smell!”

    “Oh come on pa! We're outside and I like the taste. At least it ain't those nasty a*s Newport's you be puffin' away.”

    “Shat’ ya’ f****n' mouth and put that s**t out. Our guest isn't a smoker.”

    Ash then looked at me and ashes his black and mild on the heel of his right shoe, while Mort flicked his in the ocean.

    Minutes later, I followed the two in my van to head over to a comic store in which Mort owns. Goddamn. I never would have thought the man responsible for nearly eradicating all known Italian syndicates in south Florida owned a comic store for money laundering purposes. It’s kind of cool actually. It shows he has character.

    At around 6:16PM, we arrived at Mort’s comic shop and headed straight into his office to talk business. When I got in his office, I noticed he had a lot of comic book and sports memorabilia. I took a seat in front of his desk simultaneously as he sits behind his. Ash stood on the right of him, which is my left. He has a brown desk with pictures of his family, his wife, three bottles of aged whiskey and autographs from celebrities and politicians like Frank Sinatra and Ronald Reagan; just to name a few without going off topic. Behind Mort’s seat is actually an autographed 16x30 picture of Dick Cheney framed on a wall.

    "Seems like something caught your eye there kid." Said Ash, pouring whiskey in a glass.

    “I apologized. I’m just fascinated by the DC comics set up you two got here. I’d never expect you guys to be into comic books.”

    As soon as Ash quickly finishes his glass of whiskey he responds "Looks can be deceiving kid."

    Mort immediately cuts off Ash "ACTUALLY I’m the one into comic books. Out of my three boys only Ash isn’t in to them."

    “Yeah I’m more of a "Sports illustrated"-t***y mag kinda’ guy.”

    “Clearly reading isn’t fundamental to Ashy.”

    “But t***y mags and gats are. Well I don’t wanna’ come off all one-dimensional and s**t so-actually, I do love motorcycle magazines too. REAL BIKES though, like Harley’s. None of that chink-jap s**t.”

    “That’s cause you’re a f*****g pleb Ash!”

    “The f**k’s a pleb?”

    Mort smiled, then looked at me. “See, only a pleb doesn’t know what a pleb is.”

    “Dad stop bustin’ my balls and tell me what the f**k a pleb is will ya?!”

     “That’s why ya got google ya little fetus. Anyway Jorge down to business. You got the ton in the truck right?”

    “I do.”

    “How much a gram?”

    "One-hundred sir."

    "Thank f**k! I thought I’d be short. Ight, ya' want it wired, bitcoin or cash?”

    "I’m sorry?"

    "Wait- ya' mean to tell me you’re a pusher and ya' know nothing about bitcoin or off shore banking? I mean ya' s**t’s so expensive I’d thought ya' bank off panama and the Swedes."

    "I do my operations alone. I have no knowledge on off shore banking or this bitcoin thing you speak of."

    "Aw s**t. I thought Milano would have gone over all that with ya'?! That impulsive b***h- I’m sorry. Look kid, don’t worry. None of this is your fault. It’s hers."

   “Yo kid, you new to the game?”

    “Eh, going on a few months now.”

    “Noob! Dad the f****r’s a rookie.”

    "Shat’ ya’ f****n’ mouth Ash! No big deal, you’re a temp paid under the table. It’s cool. I’ll just pay ya' in cash. No biggie."

    Mort then proceeds to his picture frame behind him and removes it off the wall to place on the floor. I was staring straight at a digital safe. Mort then dials in his password and opens his safe. The safe looked to contain at least $350,000,000 in cash.

    “Ya' got a ride home or ya' walkin’?”

    “I prefer to walk sir.”

    “Oh right! I forgot ya' came here with the truck. Ya' sure ya' don’t want me to call you a cab or somethin’? I mean ya’ gonna’ be walkin’ around with ninety million in cash here. You’ll eventually bump into some n*****s or worse.”

    “If I’m fucked with, they get fucked up.” I responded.
    "Yo Rj Berger, you strapped?"

    I coldly stared Ash dead in his eyes and responded "Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. True gangsters always move in silence."

    "Dad I like this m**********r’s style!

    “Get me the f*****g luggage case will ya and stop f****n’ around.”

    Ash rolls over eight industrial luggage suitcases, then helps Mort load ninety million dollars into the suitcases. Ash counts everything out loud. Each stack has $100,000 in Benjamin Franklin’s. I had then go into my pocket and unfold a contract I’ve been carrying around to finalize my transaction. After I unfolded it I placed it on the table.

    "Mr.Lugosi, do you mind if I ask you a rather personal question?"

    "Depends on the question."

    “It’s in regards towards our transaction."

    "Eh f**k it ask."

    "Are you a consumer or administrator?

    "Come again?"
    "Are you ingesting the product or using it in your operations?"

    "Well not that it’s any of ya' f****n’ business, POTENTIAL operations. I only f**k with ports and blow. F**k’s it to ya'?"

    "I had to ask."

    "Why?! And what’s with the paper?!”

    "With all due respect sir, I need you to sign these documents due to how lethal this product is. It’s documentation stating you will not administer or redistribute this product to anyone under the age of twenty-five with an annual income lower than $500,000.”

    Mort sternly stared me down. Ash then stops counting to look at me, then Mort.

    "The f**k?"

    Mort violently turned to Ash, "Who the f**k told ya' to stop counting?!"

    Ash immediately continues counting the money.

    “Ight’ kid, let me get my glasses.”

Mort goes into his drawer and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. Mort proceeded to examine the contract.

    "Take as much time as you as would like. If you’re not comfortable with signing then I will take my business elsewhere, leave your money and move on with no hard feelings I don’t want any of us to be fucked over." Mort examined the contract for two straight minutes.

    "How old are ya'?"

    "Twenty-five."

    Ash finished counting everything out loud accurately.         

    “Alright guy, ya' subtotal is ninety-million, seven-hundred-eighteen thousand, and five-hundred. I had to round it since we don’t do loose change. Yo pa', we doin’ this or what?!”

    Mort then pulled a red pen from his Green Lantern mug full of writing utensils and signed the contract using a red pen.

    "Ash shat ya' f****n’ pie-hole. You always talk s**t when I’m tryina’ concentrate!" He then passes the contract back to me. "Kudos to you. You’re a f****n’ millionaire. How does it feel kid?"

    "Miserable as always. But it’s been a pleasure doing business with you sir."

    Mort then put his hand out for me to shake, while Ash zips all the bags containing cash shut.

    As I went to shake Mort’s hand, he told me "Here’s a little words from the wise. Money isn’t responsible for ya' happiness, you are?"

    “What are you f*****g nuts Dad?! Kid don’t listen to that bullshit. I’d rather be crying in a f****n’ palace than happy bubble bathing in laundry detergent."

    Immediately after Ash finished his sentence, Mort violently throws his red pen at Ash's face.

    “Ow! Dad the f**k!?”

    "SHAT THE F**K UP! CLEARLY WE AIN’T YOU! Anyway Jorge, how ya' gonna’ walk into town with all these bags? It’s virtually impossible." Said Mort with genuine concern.

    "Well I never thought ninety million dollars would take up that much space."

    "I assume you’re about to get bigger orders after this and you’ll need the van. Gah f**k it. Look pull up in the back lot and I’ll transfer everything in here. Ash, send those nerds home and close up shop. We’re working early tonight."

    "You don’t need help with all that?"

    "Ash, send those nerds home and close up shop. Don’t let me f****n’ repeat myself."

    I went to pull the van into the back of his store, while Ash went to close everything down. After Mort helped me transfer the product inside his store, Mort and Ash helped transfer the bags of currency into my van and I took an alternate route home.

    I got home at around 9:00PM. I called Elizabeth to let her know the transaction was a success. She only said "Congrats, I’ll call you." Then immediately hung up on me. I took out my "Neon Genesis: Evangelion" collection of manga’s and DVD’s from out of the suitcases of money, placed them in order of release on my bookshelf and proceeded to the backyard to bury the eight bags of luggage, nine feet deep.

    I did however leave one bag out for Lee’s cut. After the burial, I went inside, popped in a VHS copy of "Paprika" into my VCR and laid in bed. I can finally relax.

Author's Note

Reviews would help. :)