Never Leave Me

So I finally get vertical late Saturday morning around 9:30-ish … and looking out through my front window what do I see?

My filthy rich neighbors wives all gathered around the driver side of a black early 2000’s Toyota car that has driven a good 10 feet up into my property.


So many questions.

Before I can put on my sneaks an ambulance shows up and parks right in front of the car. By the time I get on my sneaks a police cruiser shows up and parks right behind the car. And then, just as I’m getting out the front door … a more ‘bulky’ police vehicle pulls up in a support position about 20 feet away behind the first police cruiser.

Not bad for a lazy Saturday morning!!!

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You gotta finish this story.

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Too curious to fear for my own safety, I just sat down on my front patio and watched.

With several police officers in position the medics opened the Toyota’s driver side and seemed to ‘wake up’ and then bring out what looked to me like a very drunk (or stoned) (or both) 20 something year old Arabic man and guide him over the back of the ambulance. His legs wobbled like rubber in spite of his slender build. Typical street wear … Nike shoes, track pants, some kind track jacket over a tee. They then helped him up into the back of the ambulance … and shut the doors.

At that point I thought it was safe enuff for me to go up to the police and ask what’s going on … and when is that car going to moved off my yard.

“Confidential” … is all they said.

I said … "Confidential? What kind of confidential? (As if there’s levels of confidentiality, I was desperately trying to pry for more info.)

“Confidential … that’s all we can say to this moment.”

So as I turned to walk away and go talk to one my neighbors about the whole deal … I noticed the front right tyer was down flat with a rather large hole in the tyer’s side wall. To me it looked liked a bullet hole.

Half in jest I turned to one of the officers and said … “That looks like a bullet hole … no?”

“Probably just a blow out.” … was the reply.

I thought to myself that that ain’t no blow out … not so clean a hole and right in middle of the tyer’s side wall!

No way that’s a blow out!

Very interesting.

So many more questions.

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Most all my neighbors are 5ive o’clockers … I swear by 6ix AM they’re well into their 3rd cup of coffee. Me … I’m still checking my eyelids for holes.

So I ask one of my filthy rich neighbors … the one that has summer long pool parties … wat up?

She says: I noticed that that car was there since early this morning … thought it was a friend of yours.

Me: Nope.

She goes on to say: We noticed that the driver was slumped over the steering wheel and not moving.

Me: We? Who’s we?

These filthy rich folk all talk as if they’re part of greater ‘we’.

She ignores me and continues: Alice phoned 911 for an ambulance.

Me: Did you notice the bullet whole in the front right tyer?

Then with some kind of snobby arrogance she says: No I did not. Probably just a flat. Why don’t you create a graphic novel?

So as I walked away … I turned to her said: Good idea.

She must know me all too well.

Very interesting.

So many more questions.

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As a well seasoned grfk dzgnr … the one thing I know for sure is that content is KING. So knowing at least that much, if I’m going to create this graphic novel I’m going to have to get me some ‘content’.

And, also, as a life long ‘observer’ … I naturally went back to my front patio … sat back down to think this one through.

And just then, to my surprise, what did I see? The ambulance crew released the guy over to the police … pack up and leave. And then after a brief heated exchange between the police and this guy, the police packed up and drove away too!

That left this guy, with his crappy car up in my front yard … and me.

I thought now, NOW, now’s my chance to get me some of that ‘content’ … whatever that ‘content’ might be. So naturally I just sat there and watched some more … plotting my next move.

Then I see this guy fire up a smoke … walk over (with a stagger) to the trunk of his piece of sh*t Toyota open it up and grab the spare tyer and jack … toss them to the ground along side the flat … get out his phone and start talking in some form of Arabic language.

My Lebanese isn’t all that great … in fact, the only Lebanese words I know are the ones I’ve read on Lebanese menus. But I could clearly hear the excitement in his voice … with several English swear words and some other words about “the cops this” and “the cops that” !!!

I think to myself … who is this guy talking to? And why is he soooo pissed?

The next thing I see is this guy trying to put the jack under the car and try to jack it up. But, due to a week long rain the ground gave way with evey crank and the jack sank deeper and deeper into my yard!

I thought this has got to be my chance … to get some of that ‘content’! So I walked over to offer up some help.

Me I said: “Hey, sorry about your troubles … do you need a brick or a plank to put under that jack?”

His response and without any provocation from me whatsoever … seriously people this is what the guy said to me:
“Why didn’t they just shoot at me?”
“Why did they have to shoot my tyer?”
“Why did they have to do that?”

“Sorry about your lawn, man.”


Very very interesting.

So many many more questions.

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Great Story!

One question is haunting me though, was the rubber part of the wheel from England or something? (i.e. Tyre) :wink: Though perhaps this was a stroke of genius as Tyre can be both a tire or a primary city in Lebanon and since he seemed to speak Lebanese… well you see where I am going.

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Fluke … maybe :wink:

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I completely enjoyed this story, Grfkdzgn. Thanks for sharing. :smiley:


When growing up I was taught a lot of wise old adages such as … ‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth’ … ‘Catch more flies with honey than vinegar’, etc., etc… This was a good time to lean on one from the archive.

Me I said: “Grass grows back.”

Him: “Brick if you’ve got one, thanks man.”

Me: “I’ll be right back.”

Walking up to my garage to get a brick my thoughts were yelling in my head … Shots?!? What shots?!? Who fired the shots?!? Where, when and most importantly … why were the shots fired?!? And why didn’t the police seize the car?!?

Add to all that … as I was standing there in that brief, but somewhat tense, exchange I noticed the guy had his jacket sleeves pushed up his arms … this allowed me to see some more of that much needed ‘content’.

Tattoos … and really crude tattoos at that.

But the one that caught my eye was the one that took up most of his outer right forearm … a rather large rounded area of just blackish grays that looked to me to be a pathetic attempt at being a cover-up tattoo. Pathetic because I could still make out the faint line art of a light blueish tattoo underneath that that cover-up tattoo was trying to cover-up. The design of which struck me as being somewhat familiar.

Thought I’d seen that design somewhere before when I was obsessing over everything Japanese pre-Meiji period.

When walking back with brick in hand the hip hop phrase ‘peep game’ came to mind …as did the wise old adage … ‘Like a moth to a flame’.

Very interesting.

So many more questions.

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Ever want to make that heavier than usual impression? You know the one where you double up on the handshake or hold on to the handshake a bit longer than normal? Or when you’re handing off something to somebody you wait until you feel that tug by the person receiving? Well, that’s the technique I thought I would employ to get me some more of that ‘content’.

Stall … buy some time … try to see what is under that cover up tattoo.

So, I hand over the brick … he grabs the brick with his out stretched right arm revealing that cover up tattoo … I don’t let go of the brick!

We’re now locked in an extended moment … I stare directly down at that cover up tattoo. He then forcefully yanks the brick out of my hand!!!

Him: “Thanks man. I’ll give it back when I’m done.”

Me: “Cool, let me know if you need some help.”

So I go back into my house, start up my laptop, build a pot of coffee, go to the front window take a look to see what he is doing. I see him cranking away on the jack with brick in place … talking away on his phone.

I think to myself … this going to take awhile so why not take advantage of the time?

With my laptop booted, I open my library of dragon images I’ve saved (and continue to save) over these many years and search for anything five claw dragon … because that is what I saw faintly, yet clearly, beneath that lame cover up tattoo! I saw the massive foot of a five claw dragon!!!

I don’t want to bore you all with dragons … or the well documented history of dragons … but historically speaking five claw dragons are heavy weights in the realm of dragons. For example, in the Chinese Yuan dynasty they were known as Emperor Dragons. And you don’t mess with that … death to those who did!

So, this shitty Toyota up in my yard just got a whole lot more interesting. Bullet hole in the tyre! Cover up tattoo of an emperor’s five claw dragon’s foot on a Lebanese youth!


Very interesting.

So many more questions.

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This car with the bullet hole in the tire has seemingly been in your front yard for weeks now. Did this guy with the dragon tattoo finally drive it away? Sounds like a Swedish mystery novel.

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So ya, it’s desperation time. Like the feeling you get when you’re just about to lose that important client. But for me, for some reason or another, I’ve always been able to toss that game saving hail mary touchdown pass … I need one of those right now … time is running out on this game. So why not just cut to the chase? Ask some direct questions!

I get up, look out my front window to see what the guy is doing. I see him lowering down the car. Clearing the jack and tossing it into the trunk … slams shut the lid. Grabs the brick and walks up my driveway.

OK, now’s the time to toss that hail mary. I go out my front door and meet him on my driveway.

Holding out the brick he says: “Thanks man.”

Me grabbing the brink: “So … where were those shots fired?”

Him: “Over at that intersection.” …he points over my head.

Me: “At what time?”

Him: “I don’t know man, around 3 in the morning.”

Me: “Did you call the police?”

Him: “Cops hate me.”

Me: “You OK?”

Him: “Ya man. Seems like some things from my past will never leave me.”

Very interesting.

So many more questions.

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