By Dick Johnson
I’m a hustler by trade. Basically, I work very hard to avoid having a traditional job. I just don’t like people telling me what to do and living according to some made up rules, which mean nothing to me.
Now, being a hustler doesn’t mean I always commit crimes. I do work for people on short term gigs, like construction work, or collections, or deliveries. Sometimes I will work tending bar for a friend or being a short order cook. I love cooking.
But, I can’t stay doing it, and I get mad when people mess with me. Maybe it’s my ADD or violent tendencies. I don’t know. But, I can tell you that I only did good work in school in the classes I liked, and the teachers I liked. I still resent the fact that my whole life has been dictated by the fact that I hate math, and suck at it. So, apparently that means I deserve to be poor.
Course, I can’t blame it all on the school system. Yes, it was designed to create little slaves for the corporate masters. But, let’s be real. I do have a discipline problem. Or should I say, I have problems with people thinking they are better than me or have the right to rule over me. They don’t.
I also don’t like when someone thinks they can get over on me. I treat people right, and I expect to be treated properly as well. It’s that simple.
They play games till someone corrects them. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not perfect. As a hustler or con man, I take advantage of people sometimes; but typically only the people who deserve it. Yeah, yeah I know. But, I don’t care.
So, I was at this bar thinking about Judy again. I was broke and thinking about how much she hurt me, and how much that guy she’s with deserved it. She cheated. That’s that. Her and Sid deserve it.
Yeah, I might have cheated, but I did not cheat cheat. I didn’t fall in love or destroy what we had. I just scratched an itch sometimes. I couldn’t help it. I’m a sex addict. It just pops up, like a hunger and it must be filled.
Anyway, I was broke. So, I decided to pull a con I had pulled many times. It worked like a charm, and I got money, and satisfaction out of it.
So, I was sitting at the bar that Judy and I had always gone to. It was close to where we were living together. The apartment she kicked me out of and made me homeless. I had to sleep in the park, in one of those tubes, on the kids slide. Yeah, that will make you hate someone.
I had just shot my last wad on a beer, and was nursing it. The sucker at the other end of the bar was drinking pretty fast, and I was about to make my approach.
I slid down the bar toward the guy, and said.
“Hey, you want some pussy?”
Crude I know. But, why waste time?
“What do you mean?” The guy asked.
“I’m the runner for Sally’s place. It’s a joint where several girls stay, and take care of your needs, if you know what I mean.” I said.
“Really?” the guy asked.
“Yeah, they got this one girl. She will just make your head explode. And she is hot. What kind of girls you like? White, Black, Asian?”
“White mostly, but I could do whatever, you know what I mean?” he said laughing.
I laughed too. I knew exactly what he meant.
“Well, she is white as snow, with a sweet tan in the right places. She’s one of those girl next door types. You know. She makes you think of the cheerleader from high school, or your best friend’s wife.” I said.
“Where is Sally’s?” He asked.
“It’s close. They use me to weed out the cops, and the crazies. You ain’t no cop are you?” I said,
“There is no way I’d be a cop.” He said.
“Cool, and you don’t seem crazy to me,” I said. “Well, not anymore than anyone else.”
He laughed again.
“I’m cool.” He said.
“Ok, here’s the deal,” I said, opening up my jacket and fishing inside for my roll of tickets.
I laid the roll on the bar. They looked like raffle tickets, but were a little bit bigger. They were white, and he looked at them intently. “Ok, if you are serious, then you pay me and I give you one of these tickets and send you over to Sally’s.” I said.
“Ok” He said and nodded.
“I’ll write the code phrase on the back. We change it every night. I’ll also give you the special knock,” I said. “Are you interested?”
“How much?” He asked.
“Fifty bucks” I said.
He fished in his pocket and pulled out two twenties.
“I only got forty.”
“That’ll work,’ I said. “But, you’ll just have to be faster.”
He laughed, and handed me the money.
“That won’t be a problem.” He said, his words slightly slurred.
I pulled out a pen and wrote on the back of the ticket and handed it to him.
“Ok, go into the apartment building across the street, and up to the second floor. Apartment 20. It’s right next to the stairs. Got it?”
“Then, give the secret knock. Three firm strikes, like this.”
I knocked on the bar. He nodded.
“Keep doing that until they answer. The guy who answers is the bouncer. Just say the words written on the ticket.” I explained.
He nodded and read the ticket. He smiled.
“Cool.” He said.
“Ok head on over. I’ll send a text, so they know to expect you.”
He rolled off the bar stool and stormed out the door and across the street, full of excitement.
When he entered the apartment building across the street I quickly finished my beer and left the bar heading down the street, with some cash in my pocket.
I imagined the guy reaching the door. He reads the ticket and gets ready. He knocks hard three times, and Sid answers the door.
“I’m here to fuck Big Booty Judy!” The guy says reciting what I wrote on the ticket.
It makes me laugh.
Now to be clear, Sid is not a bouncer type. He’s more of an artist type. So, it’s not like I just sent this poor guy to his death. No. it’s more of an irritation by this time, considering I had pulled this same con 5 times this month.
Sid and Judy have no idea it’s me, and they deserve it.
I’ll stop when I feel better about the whole thing.
Bio: Bio: Dick Johnson is a writer from St. Louis, Mo.. He likes to tell stories on the grittier side of life. He has several on The Yard: Crime Blog. “A Bottle of Vodka” “Drunk Tank” “Thou Shalt Not” “Bag of Soap” “Do You Like Masks?”