God, in me, was walking to my mom's house on Christmas morning when I was tasered by the police over a false police call.
I was walking all the way from Surrey to Heather street in Vancouver. It's a long walk. A really long walk. But, like usual I was on speed so this kind of long walking was very normal to me. I had been at Val's house all night long smoking speed and getting laid, Val is one crazy fuck and it's hard for me to think about taking speed without going to see Val at least once. (Val and I fucked for 72 hours straight before. We fucked for so long that I had to start using margarine from the fridge as lubricant. It was amazing!)
The walk from Val's apartment in Surrey to Vancouver is part of a system of hikers paths and bike trails that start in Vancouver around Stanley Park and end up way out in the various other cities that connect to Vancouver. I was talking this trail.
I started out on the trail very early in the morning so that I could be at my mom's by about 10 or 11 am. I was dressed in some of my very best clothing for the occasion. I had brought them with me to Val's knowing that was my plan for the next morning. Clothes then were joke. I had found and collected so much clothing over the last year riding my bike and raiding the big blue garbage dumpsters lining the alleys of Vancouver and surrounding areas that I had 5 giant city recycling bins in my apartment full of clothing and still it wasn't enough. Of all this I had picked out some the very finest stuff to wear.
I walked over the bridge from Surrey to New West which led to a trail that took along the waterfront towards the train station. Along the way and by the railroad tracks yet still on the path and certainly not on any private property owned by the rail road nor anybody else I saw what looked like a small pile of discarded clothing.
It was raining. I had no bag or backpack with me. I was on my way to spend Christmas at my mother's house. It was 8 o'clock in the morning Christmas day. But, because of my compulsive addiction to collecting all the discarded clothing that I came across on my meth journeys I just couldn't help but stop to take a look at them. They looked like a nice pile of work clothes. A jacket, maybe a shirt a couple pairs of jeans.
I grabbed a stick and started to poke at them. Usually, I would just dive right in there with my hands and start inspecting the condition of my finds to see if it was worth it to take them. But, I had my best Sunday dress on so I was a lot more careful. I was already wet from the rain and I didn't want to get any spoiled clothing goo on myself before I went to my mothers to celebrate Christmas.
I picked at the pile and managed to turn over the jacket and lift up one of the shirts. They must have been there for a very long time because as I rattled the shirt at the end of the stick it began to fall apart like wet tissue. That was the end of that. I was not going to bother these.
I began to walk back to the trail, a distance of about 15 feet, from the log that the clothes lay on back through the giant mud puddle I had to carefully traverse by steeping on my heels and picking out elevated spots to skip to when about halfway back I heard,
"Lie Down!',
and, looking up I saw a cop directing to me to lay down on the spot. I said,
"I can't. I don't want to lie down in a puddle".
He commanded me again,
"Get on the Ground!".
Again, I replied.
"But, it's a puddle."
Then, without a moments more notice I was suddenly flipped over onto the ground straight into the giant mud puddle and I lay there electrocuted by a shot from his partners taser who had been creeping up from behind me.
No comments:
Post a Comment