Saturday, November 06, 2004

FBI Comes a' Knockin'

The only thing more depressing than the present is the potential future, so I will not waste time agonizing over a fate I can't control. Instead , I will do something more productive- like dwelling on the past.

There's the time the FBI came to my apartment (circa 1986) while I was weighing 8-balls of blow. They wanted to ask some questions about my upstairs neighbor. My mullet neighbor, who liked listening to the Scorpions at 3 a.m. and really enjoyed the sound of breaking glass. Seems he wanted to be a Feeb.
I didn't want to risk having these agents come into my apartment, so I asked them to follow me upstairs-point at neighbor's door-see those dents?

Yes, sir ,I do. What is your point?

I put those there with a sledgehammer last weekend. They were having a raging party and started throwing furniture out of the window and into the alley. I tried to get them to stop, but the music was so loud they couldn't hear me knocking-even with the hammer.
Check it out-the sofa's still in the alley. Be careful though- one of 'em had a pet Boa Constrictor that got loose. (all true)

FBI guys are furiously taking notes as my coke-addled brain shifts into overdrive.

Would you characterize this behavior as normal?

Hell, NO! Those guys upstairs are crazy!

Sir, I meant is this sort of activity normal for Joe **** in apt. #6?

Pretty much. Except when it smells like marijuana-then they're quieter.

I see. Thank you for your time.

They probably hired him that same day.

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