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Bloody Nose, from I am a Dirty Immigrant

I know, I am straying, but damn this story is good. There was a couple at the party dressed like the characters from the movie Pulp Fiction. The gentleman had a line of red liquid running down his nose so I congratulated him on how authentic his costume was and asked him what he used for blood. He looked at me puzzled, and then held up a small glass container on a chain around his neck. The light was dim so I leaned in and saw that it was filled with white powder. I had heard about cocaine use at parties but that was the first time I had seen someone bleed from their nose. I was so embarrassed I just swallowed hard and walked away, as he wiped the blood from his nose.

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Storyteller

Its Time to move on

Here I was, deep in sleep Sunday morning at around 3:30 am when I was woken up by a volley of gun shots. I lay there, did not move. I did not hear any screaming, or running, nor did I hear any police sirens so I went back to sleep. Monday I was scrolling through face book when I came across a news story. It seems that two young men got into an argument outside the pizza restaurant across the street from me and one pulled out a gun and opened fire. One was shot several times and even though he was bleeding tried to leave before the police got there. When questioned he refused to give the police any information about who shot him. Its seems like where I live shooting have become a regular thing. In West Virginia drugs have become a serious problem. Outsiders, primarily from Detroit, comes in to sell their drugs, they even call the little town I live in, Huntington,  Moneyton, So this last incident have made my mind up, I need beach, sunshine and cool runnings, Time to move on. I will soon visit the island for a little but and then hopefully move Clear Water Florida. Closer to the island for me and sand, sea and beaches year round. So the push in on, find a place to write in peace.

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Pillbilly or Church Lady From the book I am a Dirty Immigrant

Now back to my place of employment. I was not aware how easy it was to get pot at work until I had worked there for a while. My first few days of working in that call center I was approached and asked if I needed any smoke.  Pills, cocaine, you name it, it was offered. It was like a small business existing in a corporate environment. Hell, you can even have it delivered to your house. It was not limited to the young people only; older men and women eat the pills like vitamins. Bloody people were glutinous.

This older lady, blue-haired and stately looking, gave me forty dollars to give to one of the resident pill pushers. In return he gave her two small pills and the woman was so excited she was practically drooling with anticipation. Her hand was shaking when I handed it to her. A quiet squeal escaped her quivering lips. Nothing is more disturbing than an old lady having what looked like an orgasm over some bloody pills. The situation was so bad there, one day someone came in and spread a rumor that the cops would be in the building later with narcotic dogs. I have never seen a work place clear out so fast. Even managers packed their things and left for the day.  The sad thing is some of those people have died since I last worked there. They just never could kick their habits.

http://www.amazon.com/am-Dirty-Immigrant-Anderson-Charles-ebook/dp/B00E91DDE6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1395405214&sr=8-1&keywords=i+am+a+dirty+immigrant

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Cocaine Cowboy From the novel I am a Dirty Imigrant

I know, I am straying, but damn this story is good. There was a couple at the party dressed like the characters from the movie Pulp Fiction. The gentleman had a line of red liquid running down his nose so I congratulated him on how authentic his costume was and asked him what he used for blood.  He looked at me puzzled, and then held up a small glass container on a chain around his neck. The light was dim so I leaned in and saw that it was filled with white powder. I had heard about cocaine use at parties but that was the first time I had seen someone bleed from their nose. I was so embarrassed I just swallowed hard and walked away, as he wiped the blood from his nose.

Categories
Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Cocaine Cowboy From the novel I am a Dirty Imigrant

I know, I am straying, but damn this story is good. There was a couple at the party dressed like the characters from the movie Pulp Fiction. The gentleman had a line of red liquid running down his nose so I congratulated him on how authentic his costume was and asked him what he used for blood.  He looked at me puzzled, and then held up a small glass container on a chain around his neck. The light was dim so I leaned in and saw that it was filled with white powder. I had heard about cocaine use at parties but that was the first time I had seen someone bleed from their nose. I was so embarrassed I just swallowed hard and walked away, as he wiped the blood from his nose.

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

11 mile road Crack Strength

The most exciting moment at that job was when I had to call the police. Bloody uniforms and guns made me quite uneasy. Turning people away was one of the worst parts of the job. I first had to call the tenant to let them know they had a visitor. If they did not want to see the person, I had to turn them away. This one woman was adamant that I did not let a young lady in, insisting the visitor was a crack whore. She said that at one point, the visitor had tried to seduce her and she wanted no crack whore in her apartment. The visitor became agitated and did not want to leave, ranting and raving and making threats against me, against her friend and against God. Her eyes wild, spit was flying like a tropical rainstorm with strong wind. I did my best to calm her down and once again that cool Caribbean accent helped. She said she wanted to go in, get her things and leave. I told her to relax; I had called the cops and they were on their way.

One of the cops asked her to leave, but she refused. She insisted that she get her things from the apartment. The cops contacted the tenant. She told them that the woman had nothing at her place. The woman went completely berserk. She started screaming and threatening to kill the tenant. One of the cops tried to take her hand and she really went crazy. Next thing I know I was watching a battle royale. I tell you what, that cracked up woman was as strong as an Ox.  It took three burly cops to subdue the skinny little woman. Now I have seen cops fight with people back home and believe me it is equally as humorous. The difference is there was no wrestling around; the police back home would use nightsticks freely to subdue the assailant. One day I was in the city and I saw my father trying to arrest this young man. He did not want to go so he held onto this iron railing. After a couple of minutes, my father became impatient and used his nightstick to break the man’s arm; he then hauled him off to jail. Here there are so many laws, creating a big confusing gray area. Cops and criminals are so alike people don’t know whom to trust. Of course this country is so diverse, a policeman could find himself in a political conundrum if he was to use the same kind of force used by my father. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t trust cops for the simple fact that there are hidden prejudices that can manipulate a person, causing them to act less than human. Simply put, I would never want to be a cop in this country: too much bureaucracy to deal with.  

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I am a Dirty Immigrant

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http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E91DDE6