Blackhumouristpress's Blog

November 29, 2009

Internet Dating

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 9:25 am
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Jack, and if you can believe this, Jill, met via online dating. For Jack, he grew tired of going out to clubs with his friends just to stand and watch others dancing and meeting at night clubs. For Jill, she had heard from a few girlfriends that for all the hoards of frogs that there are out there, a few princes do exist. Two of her girlfriends found compatible mates and married and so for Jill, she felt that there was hope for her.
As far as curves and scales go, both Jack and Jill were moderately attractive. Jack started working out a few years back when his father had quadruple bi-pass surgery. In the recovery room, Jack’s father had tubes sticking out of his chest and a breathing device strapped to his face. The idea that he one day could end up like his father in a hospital, drove Jack to begin to begin physical exercise around the age of thirty. Jack was thirty five on the first date with Jill. Aside from being fit, Jack wore horned rim glasses and wore his hair on weekends to look like rats ran about on top of his head. Hair went every which way and stayed that way with the help of mousse. Jack looked at the models in his Men’s Health Magazine and decided that if he was going to land the woman of his dreams, he had better get more hip with the look. Jack showed up in a collared shirt untucked with a black vest, worn looking jeans that were frayed at the bottom and a pair of black shoes. The Men’s Health Magazine told him to wear cologne with Pheromones so that subliminally his date would be more prone to want him sexually. Something about neurotransmitters something something. Men don’t remember the details as much as they remember that the pheromones can trigger sexual excitement.
Jill had posted a really attractive picture of herself with her ex-boyfriend who was really her fiancé but since there was never really a true date picked, he was more of an uncommitted boyfriend. The picture was from New Year’s Eve 2001. Jill had a great smile in the picture; she was trim and showed maximum cleavage in her silvery sparkling dress. All that remained in the picture that would lead anyone to think that she was with someone was the hand that rested on her shoulder without a body on the other side of it. Yes the picture was of Jill and yes it was from nine years earlier, but she really did not think she had aged that much or gained that much weight and her smile created the best picture of herself that she could ever remember taking. Jill dressed in a summer dress that went a few inches above her knee and showed off her toned legs and arms. Jill had been running along the banks of Lake Michigan and had a healthy look to her. Jill was confident albeit nervous to be meeting yet another man at a restaurant in downtown Chicago in hopes of finding someone that would be compatible enough to lock in with or at least want to see again. On paper and in the brief conversations, Jack seemed like a regular guy and so she agreed to meet Jack for dinner.
Jill sat at the bar of the Spanish Restaurant and ordered Sangria while she pretended to look at a message on her cell phone, fully aware that Jack had exited a cab out in front of the restaurant and was walking towards her.
“Jill?”
“Oh hi! You must be Jack…”
They both wondered what they should do next. Would it be too cold and distant to extend a hand or should we hug? Jack was going to extend his hand when Jill reached out and hugged him. Jack nervously hugged and patted Jill on the back the way Gorbachev hugged Reagan at one of their summit meetings, with slaps on the back.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I decided to take a cab and the cabbie took the scenic route here and well anyway… That is shall we say, my bad…” said Jack.
“Um… That’s fine, that’s fine. Things happen, you know… Should we tell them we’re here?”
A perky young woman led the way past tables and tables of other couples who were dining out on a warm summer evening. Jack couldn’t help but look at the ass of the hostess. It was very tight looking and symmetrical and it appeared as though she was wearing no underwear. To Jack and many other men, there is the allure of no underwear. The hostess walked away. Out of sight, out of mind.
Jill smiled nervously to show a cute dimple on one cheek. Jack had not noticed that Jill had a clef chin in her photos. It was a little too Kirk Douglas for him. It was a demerit to be certain but not a deal killer yet. Jack did notice her ass too and her plump looking chest that showed just enough cleavage but not too much so that other woman nearby would comment to their dates.
“I love Spanish food. Tapas is totally my favorite right now. I was sort of on a sushi kick for a while and then Dr. Oz killed it by showing everyone the microbes that live on tuna and so I’m like done with sushi right now. I so want to go to Spain someday. I bet the Tapas there is unreal,” said Jill, while holding the sides of her chair, bouncing her left leg and hunching her shoulders.
“Oh yeah… I love good Tapas. I was in Spain a few years back and it was, shall we say, quite awesome,” said Jack, while looking around the room rather than at Jill.
Jill took notice of the lack of eye contact and the furrowed brow. Jack had a permanent look of worry on his face due to his furrowed brow. It made him look rather unapproachable to most women. So far Jill thought Jack was acting like a pompous asshole but she wasn’t ready to trade him in yet. Just then Jack was getting a phone call. He held his index finger up and answered his client. Jack was an attorney and his client was the father of an eighteen year old who had been busted for open alcohol and marijuana in his car.
“Yes Mr. Anderson, I got your message and had every intention of calling you back. I’m currently at dinner with a friend and am not at liberty to discuss the case with you. You have, shall we say, my word that I will call you first thing in the morning. We’ll pow wow before court and I’m sure I can get him supervision. At some point though, throwing money at problems is not going to save him, shall we say… Okay, okay then… I’ll call you tomorrow morning… Right, right… Okay then… Yes, yes… Will do… Buh bye…” said Jack.
Jill dialled her sister Jenny and hung up. Jenny was instructed to take Jill’s call in the event of an encounter with a total freak. Jenny called back immediately. Jill did it to show Jack just how inconsiderate in was to take a call. Jack didn’t get the message. Instead he took the chance to check messages on his Blackberry. Jill saw this and hung up right away, telling her sister that she had pocket dialled her by mistake.
“Once again, I’m so sorry about the interruption. It’s a good friend of a friend whose son got himself into trouble with the law and is facing jail time for not complying with the judges orders,” said Jack.
“Right, right… You said you were an attorney,” said Jill.
“And you work for a realtor?” Asked Jack.
“Yes… I’m the personal assistant of this woman who is like one of the top sellers in Chicago. She gets most of her leads through the women’s club of the North Shore,” said Jill, still bouncing her leg and hunching her shoulders.
“Well that’s cool…” said Jack, even though he really did not think it was cool.
Jack told Jill about running a 5K in New England and about his Alaskan vacation and co-ed volleyball on Tuesday nights. Jack mentioned that he really loves to listen to Jazz and was a fan of Frank Lloyd Wright homes. Jill mentioned that she did spin classes and swam three days a week and that she really liked Maroon Five and Sugar Ray and that she had tickets to see Sugar Ray later that summer. Jack had never heard of Maroon Five or Sugar Ray. He said he had heard of Sugar Ray Robinson and Sugar Ray Leonard. It was an attempt at a joke. Jill wasn’t familiar with the boxers and so the joke died.
Jill had been to Las Vegas and really wanted to go to Arizona but had never really been too many places. Jill was a Cubs fan and Jack said he really did not like baseball. Jack said he kind of liked football but really didn’t. Jack just did not want to come off like an irregular guy.
Jack and Jill finished a pitcher of sangria which was about three glasses each. Jill was quite buzzed and Jack felt mellow. The bill came and Jack had figured out that he had dropped is wallet. Suddenly the buzz and glow was gone. The realization that all his credit cards were gone just about ruined his night. Jill paid for the dinner even though she knew she was overdrawn on her debit card and would be getting a call from the bank Monday morning. Luckily it went through. Jill was scared that she may have reached the $1,000.00 overdraft limit. She had $22.00 before she reached $1000.00.
Jack and Jill went back to Jack’s apartment in a cab. The whole way to Jack’s house, Jack was too distracted to talk at all. Jack kept thinking about his accounts being cleaned out. Jill sat in the cab looking out the window on the right side with her arms folded. Jack ordered the cab to wait as he galloped up the steps to his townhouse. He emerged with a look of relief on his face as he held up his chunky looking wallet with over a dozen cards and wads of cash.
“God! What a relief! I though I left it in the cab I came over in and then I thought it may have fallen out of my back pocket… Here, I’ll take care of the cab…” said Jack.
Jill refused to take the $120.00 for the meal and drinks but Jack would not have it. They went back and forth for a while until Jill finally accepted. Jack then asked Jill if she would like a glass of red wine and to sit up on his roof deck. Jill said yes.
Up on the roof was a beautiful view of downtown Chicago and the near south side. Jill saw the hot tub and asked how often Jack used it. Jack offered the tub and Jill accepted. A gentle breeze blew across them as they sat in the hot tub, holding up their red wine in their glasses, listening to jazz on Jack’s Bose audio system and looking at the skyline. The more Jill drank, the more she liked Jack. Jack loosened up and became wittier and less pompous. Between them, they finished off a bottle of red wine and wound up kissing and embracing in the hot tub. Before long they were in Jack’s bed in the throes of passion. Jill closed her eyes while Jack orally stimulated her. Jack was spelling out the alphabet in cursive on her clitoris while Jill moaned a bit and pulled on his hair. Jack got as far as the letter L before Jill pulled him and guided him towards their consummate moment. Jack learned about the alphabet spelling on the clitoris from the Men’s Health Magazine too. They claimed he would not have to get to the letter Z and they were right.
Jill woke up feeling dehydrated and had a strong headache at the base of her skull by her neck. Jack was outside on the deck talking to another client in his underwear. The digital clock said nearly two in the morning. Jill suddenly felt silly lying in the bed of a man she did not really know or know if she would ever see again. What would they say to one another once Jack got done talking on his cell phone? Would he feel boxed in and really want Jill out of his house? Jill didn’t want that to be the case. Jill decided to make a pre-emptive move. Jill slipped on all her clothes and walked out of the front door. Jill caught a cab on South State Street and went home. As Jill lay in her bed next to her Calico Cat, she thought about the entire evening. She began to drift off when she received a text message from Jack.
“Wow! I must really have missed the mark tonight. I’m sorry you felt you had to leave.”
Jill wasn’t sure how to respond. She really wished she had not left after all after receiving his response. While she was thinking about what to say, another text from Jack came through.
“Okay… I’ll go out on a limb. I find you really attractive, smart and pretty. I did not lure you back to my cave in hopes of sinking you. I really did think I lost my wallet and since we were at my place, I thought we could just stay. I thought you had a good time and maybe you did. Maybe this is just what you do. A million first dates. Well hope you had a good time. Jack.”
Jill laid in bed smiling. In the battle of the sexes, she had won. Jill went from feeling like she had conceded too early to feeling like the winner in the driver’s seat. Jill began to type while gently biting her bottom lip.
“You passed the test. It all hinged on your response. You’re a prince and not a frog… How do you feel about a jog by the lake tomorrow and then some brunch?”
Jack responded quickly.
“I would like that more than I could tell you. Sleep tight. Until the morning. Jack.”

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November 23, 2009

I Vill Charm Your fu#*king Snake

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 5:47 am
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

“Who the fuck is going to pay for my fucking television? Huh? You mother fuckers killed my television.” Yelled a glassy eyed Mexican man with a strong accent.
Hector had come home from a small factory on Chicago’s west side. His job was to make grinding wheels for machine shops. The owner hired illegal aliens to make the wheels for him in a basement of the factory. It was an ingenious scheme. It would have been like putting Anne Frank to work behind the refrigerator. OSHA people would have closed the factory down in a second if they knew what was going on in the
basement. The air swirled with silica that went into making the wheels. The foreman wore a device that looked like a World War I gas mask that had two little air vents around the mouth. All the workers used paper masks and they were issued two a week. Hector worked ten hours a day and made eight dollars an hour. Hector had come from an area of Mexico called Jalisco. Hector paid a man close to $8,000.00 to take him across at Tijuana. The men, who took his money, provided him with fake papers. From there, Hector took a bus to Chicago to live in a studio apartment with his cousin and four other
men. A studio apartment is nothing more than a room that serves as everything but a
bathroom.
Hector started a side project of doing handy man repairs on the side. Sylvia, a seventy year old Jewish woman, hired Hector to fix some small items in her apartment and before long, Hector was living with Sylvia. Hector was a short dumpy Aztec looking man with dark, ruddy complexion and black eyes. Hector hated the United States.
Hector saw an invisible wall that kept his people invisible. Nobody seemed to notice that at all the restaurants, car washes and front lawns in upper middle class areas around the country, functioned because of undocumented Hispanics, primarily Mexicans. Hector knew that as an undocumented, illegal alien, he had to settle for whatever job and money he could find.
The silica made him wheeze and his eyes tear. Hector often coughed but thought nothing of it. Hector had been watching El Salvador playing against Mexico. It was a tied game in the 78th minute when six firemen axed the door open and began smashing all the windows out. Hector grabbed the arm of one of the firemen and as the fireman struggled; his axe went right through the 70 inch, high definition television that Hector had just purchased. It cost Hector the equivalent of ten days of work. The fireman apologized and walked out. Hector found out later at work that El Salvador won the match.
Sylvia stood on the sidewalk, trying to calm Hector while holding her parakeets in

a small cage. Hector had just downed several shots of tequila and wolfed down a six

pack of Tecate. All he wanted to do was watch the match on television and fall asleep on

the couch.

Hector and Sylvia found a motel on Lincoln Avenue called the Rio Motel.
Hector was checking into the motel that doubled as a convenience store too. Behind the bullet proof glass were cigarettes, pop, condoms, pain relievers and so forth. The Indian proprietor looked at Hector, a Hispanic man in his mid thirties and the seventy year old Jewish woman holding two birds in a cage, while dressed in pyjamas, was
impressed with that. Ajesh the proprietor was used to seeing all kinds of outrageous things but felt that the odd couple were the most unique of the night. Just as they were settling up with Ajesh, a young black, homeless man came in.
“Yo man, I’m just coming back for my cigarettes… I was in here back before y’all started foh the night and left my cigarettes here on the counter… You kin look at the tapes, I was here bout foh clock…”
“I don’t know nothing about no cigarettes, bro… You better leave now,” said Ajesh.
Hector slipped Fifty dollars cash under the bullet proof glass and handed it to
Ajesh. An Indian musical played in the back ground on a small television. There was one woman dressed in a Sari with twenty men, dancing in unison with her in front of a palace. Everyone of the dancers, were good looking people and light skinned to the point of looking Anglo with a hint of Indian. They were dressed in yellow and orange. They were all smiling, fit and happy. Ajesh was heavy and very dark and looked unhappy. He had a great disdain for the patrons who frequented the motel he purchased from a Korean couple several years back. The patrons used it to use and sell drugs, they used it to have secret rendezvous and some used it for prostitution. Illegal aliens used the motel as their
only means of living since they were fearful that a background/credit check would reveal the fact that they were not living and working in the country legally. Hector lived with Sylvia and so he had an apartment to go where there would not be four men to a room. Sylvia had companionship. She had someone other than birds and a television for interaction. Even though Hector was surly, he did appreciate the old woman letting him live with her. The relationship was non sexual for the most part. There had been a few
occasions where the chemicals within Hector, built up and drove him to do something that he would not have done otherwise. This poor decision making was aided by Tequila. Sylvia actually liked it quite a bit. It had been years since she had sex with a man. That night, there would be no sex and very little talking. They were both disturbed by the fact that they were instantly displaced from their apartment due to the fire.
“Hey man, I just want my motha fucking cigarettes… Look on the motha fucking tapes if you don’t believe me,” said the black man, with even glossier eyes than Hector.
“If you don’t leave now, I vill call the police,” said Ajesh, sternly.
“Fuck you, you fucking A-rab mothah fucking, carpet riding, snaking charming motha fucker.”
Ajesh emerged from behind the bullet proof room with a good ole Louisville Slugger. It was a thirty two ounce bat, which is to say that it had some weight to it. It was supposedly signed by Bo Jackson, who once played baseball for the Chicago White Sox and football for the Oakland Raiders. Ajesh held the bat up as if he were playing Cricket, which he was once very good at back in India. Ajesh was not a small man and was not afraid of black men who tried to intimidate him. In fact Ajesh was secretly hoping that one of them would cross the line so that he could brain them with his bat and then tell the police that he was being threatened with death by some transient.
“Who’s the mother fucker now? Mother fucker… Try some stupid shit, bro. I vill charm your fucking snake…”

With that, the transient man walked off and Hector and Sylvia went up to their
room. The room was musty as if mold was growing somewhere and the toilet smelled of urine like an outhouse. The bed had nothing but sheets on it and every spring on the bed
could be felt. Hector turned on the television to find two Indian men having sex with an Indian woman in a garden while sitar music played softly behind her feigned moans. Sylvia fell asleep talking to her birds, Hector fell asleep watching the Indian manage a trois. They too were good looking Indian people, this time with their clothes off.

November 16, 2009

Viagra 73% Off

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:38 am
Tags: , , , , ,

Now Steven was worried about pleasing his younger wife. She had told him matter of fact like one night that she loved to have sex for hours, several times a night. Steven had gone to the junk box on his computer and opened up the spam that advertised Viagra for 73% below the market value. Steven loved a deal and so he purchased the drug on line from a distributor in a small town in Alberta up in the plains section of Canada. This distributor was able to get the drug from the Canadian Government for next to nothing. He worked in a hospital where they dispensed drugs. The government paid him a meager $25,000.00 a year salary. By borrowing the drug, he could make over four times that amount. This particular man had bank accounts set up in Barbados under his children’s names. He withdrew all his money one day from the Royal Bank of Canada when the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, nabbed drug dealers in British Columbia. The drug dealers were caught with millions in Scotia Bank accounts. One night while eating dinner with his family and watching the national news on CBC, this particular Viagra dealer got to his RBC and wired the money to Barbados. He had always wanted to go to Barbados, now he had a good reason. His money was there.
To be fair, we shall not name for fear that the RCMP might pick him up in Alberta. He posted the sale of Viagra on the web at a savings of 73%. Steven was not aware that he was only saving about 20% and so he bought the little blue pills on line. He initially took just a half a pill as was suggested and found that his member hung to the left as if it were asleep. Steven took the rest of the pill. It was within an hour that he broke out into body sweats and felt a surge of heat run through his body. Steven could feel his heart beating in his eyes. The veins on his neck bulged and he got an erection that was so hard that it hurt him. It throbbed so. Steven’s younger wife had no idea. What she believed was that Steven was inspired by her. Steven was good for two or three rounds. His biggest fear was that he might get a heart attack or a stroke from the drug.
Cynthia tried so hard to appear as though she was really in love with her husband. What she was really in love with were all his assets. By law, she was half owner in all that he owned. Within ten years, Cynthia would be as they say, fucking him to the tune of five million dollars, a house, a condo, two cars and monthly maintenance.
Cynthia’s people had hit the proverbial jack pot some years back. It was determined that Cynthia’s mother was part of the Luiseno Indian tribe. One day her mother received a letter from the chief of the Luiseno Indians that she would be getting $200,000.00 a year for being one of a select few that were really and truly from the Luiseno Tribe. It was great while it lasted.
The Luisenos arrived from Asia over 2,500 year ago and settled just south of Palm Springs. They were hunters and gatherers. The Spanish and small pox did them in. Today there are about 40 native speakers of the language left. Cynthia’s mother got money until the day she died. Cynthia had her mother in a nursing home in Hemet, California for years while she collected the money. Upon her mother’s death, it was determined by the tribe leader that Cynthia could no longer receive the money on her mother’s behalf since she had been adopted. Cynthia had no idea that she had been adopted until her mother’s death. A private detective hired by the tribe was conclusively able to prove that Cynthia was born of Scottish and Swedish extraction and was there by not a Luiseno. The well had run dry.
Now Cynthia’s mother had been told as a child, that their grandfather had been a full blooded Luiseno Indian that had moved near Los Angeles and married a white woman. Their children married other whites until the Indian look was white washed away. Due to the fact that Cynthia’s mother was of direct Luiseno lineage, she was entitled to a share of the profits that came in from the food mart, RV resort and the Pechanga Resort and Casino. It is a four diamond resort with 522 rooms and suites designed in a style hailing back to Frank Lloyd Wright. Mr. Wright was from Illinois but was no Indian. Golf, gambling, boxing, swimming and even comedy can be found on the grounds of the Pechanga Resort and Casino. Cynthia’s mother received a cut of the proceeds for having Luiseno blood. Upon the death of her mother, Cynthia needed to find a way to retain the style of life that she had grown accustomed to. Into her life entered Steven Swartz. Cynthia help founded a new tribe. No casino but plenty of proceeds and benefits

November 9, 2009

Pills

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 8:33 am
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

“Folks gather round to hear what I’ve got to say. Come see what I have here today. Are you lonely, scared or tired? Are you frustrated, bound up and wired? Does life lack that zing? Well then I got just the thing… You say you want to be more attractive, well loved and more active? In this here little pill is everything you’ll need to fulfill a fruitful life. You’ll be able to work happy and satisfy the wife. Never tire, never worry, never panic and never hurry never prune up and wrinkle and yet retain that youthful glow… Pop one pill and watch yourself grow. Grow when you’re not moved, enticed or aroused, amorous, romantic and how? How you ask is it possible to stimulate the blood, motivate the mind, open up your pores and bring sight to the blind? It’s easier to try then for me to say, I offer you a sample for you to try today.”
“You say you’re too fat, too skinny, too tall or too mini. Your boring, breath smells and your feet are itchy, you’re too poor, too stressed and the missus is bitchie. Your muscles small, stomach flabby, teeth crooked and the kids are crabby. Slow mind, slow witted, complexion ruddy, puss filled and pitted. You lack zest, vitality and spunk, watched your waist grow as your pants shrunk. Graying falling, thinning hair grows on your ass, your back and in your ears. Your eyes have trouble seeing, your mind has trouble with memory, its difficult peeing and this is why you’ve sent for me. To be happy, to be glad, to be strong and not sad. To be faster, to be wise, to look fit and eat fries, to learn a language without trying, to act concerned without crying. Stop the aging, lines and sagging, warts and moles and things you’re lacking. You say you hear voices in your head yet nobody hears what is said. You desire little boys and little girls or German men with blond curls. Preoccupied with filth and smut and prone to stick little articles in your butt. A need for women’s undergarments made of lace and desire to spew on someone else’s face. Find it runs counter to the 23rd Psalm, a sweaty crack, arm pits and palm. Find you manufacture zits, ear wax and snots, smelly privates and bloody clots. You fear a change of pace, afraid to move and breathe and taste. You eat poorly, wheeze and feel pain a little jealousy and disdain. You lack the vision, verve and drive and are coming apart inside. One little pill can change your life.”
“For most this product works and I say for most this product is successful. If you feel dizzy, clumsy or drowsy, light headed trembling or weak. If your urine turns dark yellow, hard to breathe, swallow, concentrate or think or haven’t slept in a week… You may want to stop taking… If you find yourself waking, if you get a rash, itchy or act brash. Personality disorientation, mood swings or constipation, fainting, falling or hallucinations, a painful erection, red complexion, restlessness or irritation. Tightness in the chest, sensitive teeth, eyes or breasts. Ringing in your ears, runny nose or constant tears. Please don’t drive around in cars, smoke, snort, inject and visit bars. For any signs of adversity, complexity or deformity, lack of interest, sleep or conformity please consult a doctor of psychiatry before convalescing, resting or infirmary… Now here’s what you need to order

November 3, 2009

Twisted Inksters

Filed under: Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 8:11 am
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Now this story might seem like it’s going all over the place and it is but it’s not every day you run across some exciting people who are worthy of having their stories told.
Eddie George, a man with two first names, was called Ed, Eddie, Edward, George and Georgie Boy. As well as Boy George but that got him really angry to hear that nickname. Eddie grew up in suburban Detroit in the eighties and fell in with a group of gear heads that listened to the Stray Cats and a lot of older Rockabilly music. Racing old cars and listening to hillbilly rock was what Eddy and his brother Jimmy and Cousin Virgil did. They eventually each took to playing instruments and over the course of twenty something years, they became a great Rockabilly trio that went by the name of the Inkster Twisters. They grew up west of Detroit in a Wayne County suburb of Inkster and actually lived right on Inkster and so the name was a natural.
By day Eddie was a police officer within the city of Detroit. Eddie hated his job for the most part but really liked having guns and being able to go as fast as he wanted in his police cruiser. When Eddy wasn’t working, he was playing music and firing all sorts of collected fire arms that he acquired over the years. It all started with confiscating weapons from potential criminals and then never turning them over. It innocently started with storing them in his police cruiser trunk and forgetting about them by accident. There was a Thompson machine gun used by gangsters during the Roaring Twenties and Dismal Thirties, double barrel 12 gauge shot guns with the barrels and then sawed off too. There were 357 magnums and Saturday night specials. Eddy began to collect and over the course of twenty years, he had quite a collection. On the day Eddie met Tulip, he was listening to Eddie Cochran on a CD player that was hidden under the dashboard of his 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air. The car was in mint condition and the AM radio still worked great but Eddie wanted to hear all his Rockabilly favorites all the time and so he bought a CD player but hid it within the car. It was sort of like seeing an Amish farmer in a horse and buggy but talking on a cell phone. I heard they do that now.
“Ma’am … Suppose we start at the beginning,” said Eddy to Tulip.
“Well my husband Bill had been drinking and he came home belligerent as usual and started smacking me around. I told him I was leaving this time for good and he went and got the gun you see over there and threatened to shoot me. He put the barrel right to my head… I’m sorry but I’m still all shook up over this… He put the barrel to my temple and cocked the hammer. I thought about my four children and what life might be for them without their mother and I fought back. I was able to twist the gun in Billy’s hand and the gun discharged in his face,” said Tulip while sobbing.
Billy lay on the couch with most of his face missing and a section of his head. Chunks of skin and scalp stuck to the walls and couch where Billy was laying. It was gruesome to be sure and a sight that would have made most people unaccustomed to such activities, clutch their stomachs. Tulip was cool as a cucumber as the expression goes and Eddie was in love. All Eddie could think of was Tulip’s pretty face and nice figure as he listened to the mostly bogus details of events.
Now they questioned Tulip and her children and took finger prints and then there was more questioning before it was determined that all that took place was as Tulip had said. Tulip was free to go about her life and she did.
Tulip was a young woman of twenty six years of age, tall and slender with an angelic face, the sort of face that could get anyone to believe that she did not take a gun belonging to her third husband and kill him with it. This was roughly around the same time that her husband Billy had inherited over a million dollars from his well to do aunt who never had children of her own. That money came from her husband who worked for the Ford Motor Company for almost forty years. Billy’s aunt’s husband bought a lot of stock in Ford and saved and saved and then died and left it to his wife. His wife, the aunt of Billy and Billy in turn was the husband of Tulip, third husband and father to the twins who happened to be the youngest of the four children belonging to Tulip. Confusing? Well the aunt left this money to Billy. Billy was a man of almost fifty years of age married to a woman half his age, that being Tulip, who spawned twin boys belonging genetically to Billy and Tulip collectively. Billy had adopted the other two children that belonged to two other men that Tulip had been married to beginning at the age of 18. Now keeping all this in mind, Billy had made out a will and named his loving wife Tulip as the executor of his will as well as the 100% recipient of his kingdom on earth. Tulip got the house, cars, boat, snowmobile, motorcycle and a little over one million dollars.
The first time Eddie had consummated his relationship with Tulip, he was amazed to find that Tulip still had the body of a young woman who had not given birth. The skin all over her body was firm and without any marks that might lead one to believe that she may have given birth once or multiple times as was the case with Tulip. Tulip had gaudy tattoos in various spots all over her body. There was the red rose on her shoulder with the name of her first husband Joe and then a gothic looking skull bearing the name of her second husband Phil, four stars around her ankle signifying the four children she bore and then a blue picket fence above her vagina that read, “ home sweet home”. That last tattoo was Billy’s idea. He paid for that tattoo and the five thousand dollar boob job for Tulip.
Over the course of time and that time being three months, Eddie married Tulip, sold his home and had a home built from the money from the sale of his home and a donation from Tulip. This bi-level was brick with a basement and six bathrooms in Inkster. The master suite had a hot tub, whirlpool and a bidet for Tulip. Tulip thought that was an ingenious idea upon going on their honeymoon in France. The caveat in getting a home together was that it had to be decked out in 1950’s era furnishings. Tulip and Eddie went to estate sales all around Detroit and suburbs and found metal cabinets, kidney bean coffee tables, old radios and televisions and so on. When they finally moved into their castle, it looked like something out of Leave it to Beaver. Tulip bought a 1959 Cadillac with huge gondola fins, cut her hair to look like a teenie bopper from the 1950’s and became the quintessential Rockabilly chick. Tulip’s new thing was going to all of Eddie’s performances in and around Detroit, Toledo, Cleveland and even Chicago. Life was perfect for Tulip and Eddie, the four children and two dogs but as usually the case, there was a fly in the ointment.
Now Billy before he died had been a frequent customer at a strip club up in Oakland County, far enough away from home. A young mother with a child by the name of Crystal thought that she had Billy on the hook. Billy had told Crystal that he would divorce his wife and marry her. Billy also happened to mention that he had come into money and was going to start a business that he had not quite decided on yet and try to live happily ever after. It sounded all good to Crystal. Crystal was living in a trailer park with her alcoholic mother who had a job standing on the corner of busy streets holding signs alerting customers to the fact that a particular store would be closing and that the contents were being liquidated for nearly nothing. Crystal began stripping and before long, found a man that could save her from everything. That man was Billy.
Crystal began to write anonymous letters to Tulip after the death of Billy. These letters were left on the windshield of Tulip’s car or in the mail. The letters were always letters cut from magazines to form words and sentences. The letters were varied a bit but mostly said about the same thing.
“I know you killed Billy, you bitch. I’m going to turn you in.”
Crystal went to a detective in the Detroit Police Department and turned over letters from Billy that stated his love for Crystal and how he was going to leave Tulip and marry her. Before long, Tulip was back in court and the case was re-opened. The letters and gifts to Crystal including pictures of Billy and Crystal together during a Miami vacation were all pretty strong evidence. Crystal was weepy on the stand and built up the love between her and Billy to be quite a bit more than it ever was. Truth was that Billy was just stringing Crystal along and never really had any intention of divorcing Tulip and marrying her. It suddenly became quite interesting to not only Detroit and the people of Michigan but to the late night Headline News show that followed the case heavily. They interviewed people that knew all parties involved and played and replayed pictures of Tulip with her children and Eddie and then of her in sunglasses walking out of a courthouse while holding hands with Eddie. It became quite a circus. This all came to a halt the night that Tulip broke into the trailer belonging to Crystal’s mother and attempted to shoot Crystal. Crystal and her mother were both shot at close range but not killed. Ironically, Eddie was dispatched to the scene of the crime and had the responsibility of gathering up his own wife. When Eddie came home to collect Tulip, she was in the kitchen making oatmeal cookies and listening to Tammy Wynette’s song, Stand by Your Man.
I could spend the next twenty or so pages telling you about the court case where Tulip cried and screamed and had to be restrained or about the plethora of reporters that stood guard outside their home. Tulip wound up going to prison, Eddie got the kids and money and then something really bizarre happened. Eddie fell in love with Crystal and wound up marrying her. They all live happily in Eddie’s custom built home that is decked out with furnishings and appliances from the Eisenhower era. Crystal played the part of the loving wife. I’m hoping poor Eddie does not get knocked off anytime soon. Crystal could be found looking up poisons on the internet on one of the computers at a branch of the Detroit Library. A young and pretty single woman, living hand to mouth as they say was the part time branch librarian who noticed what was left on the screen by Crystal. This young librarian watched the whole thing for years unfold on Headline News. If necessary she was ready to step in with evidence. More than once the young librarian lay in bed thinking of ways she could meet Eddie. It was all just a matter of time.

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