True Story©… The Book That Never Ends


(not to be confused with the SONG that never ends...)

     Funny thing, this whole living a life chronicled in True Story©…

[Phlip note: there’s the thing, already!]

You’re told in school to take notes knowing that the information covered and ostensibly noted will come up when it is time for a knowledge check.  Similarly, typing out the exploits here to be followed by interested onlookers allows anyone reading to look back and realize that this comes off as not a collection of stories, but an infinitely expanding connected singular one.

     Chronicling the exploits in detail also lays immediately bare the “dammit, this again” feeling when some shit I dealt with before decides to fall back into my life.
Something I should have learned about supervillainy watching superhero cartoons for the last 89% of my life is that villainy, as karma is concerned, is NEVER ending.  You can do dirt, but that also means you will have a rough go of getting away from said dirt.

     I can’t get out of my own damn way…
About 2,198 days ago, I made an attempt to use midgets little people to make an independent movie and CALAMITY ensued.  Lesson learned, I will get on with my life right?


     Right around the first Christmas of Covid season, I was contacted by one of the little actors in desperate need of assistance.
Not to let you in on anything more than you need to know about me, but it COSTS me money to write these, the gift money I have taken in ($45 total) is far outpaced by the $12 I pay yearly to host this.  With that being said, I helped him with information in the dearth of capital means to assist.

     So we’re good now, I am DONE with this shit.  My problems – well, that problem – are behind me now.
God is laughing at my plans, because the FBI had some of their own and came to talk to me about them.  Lucky for me, plausible deniability got and kept them off my ass pretty quickly.

So back at the beginning of the month, my phone rings…
Not the since-established Moe burner phone, but MY never-changed-since-2001, never-belonged-to-anyone-else (<- literally) number.

Oh shit.

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Man, they got me!”

Me: “Well, sir.  ‘They’ is a large swath of the population including literally everyone and--…”

Caller: “The FEDS, man!”

Me: “… and I don’t know who ‘me’ is.”

Caller: “You helped me get outta town before, you don’t remember?”

Me: “It feels like I should say no and hang up, here, but I am also bored.”

Caller: “What do I do?”

Me: “The better question is what DID you do?”

Caller: “Well, I linked up with an old friend from school and we was talking on DM.”

Me: “Oh shit…  Continue”

Caller: “Anyways, we wound up hitting it off big and she wanted to link up.”

Me: “And?”

Caller: “Well I was in The Bahamas on the run, remember?”

Me: “No…  No I don’t remember and don’t ask me that again.”

Caller: “Aight, so anyway…  She wasn’t trying to come to where I was in The Bahamas because she ain’t have no passport and I wasn’t in the glitziest of places trying to lay low.”

Me: “Have you ever watched the show ‘I (Almost) Got Away With It’?”

Caller: “No, what’s that?”

Me: “It’s a reality show where someone has committed a crime and managed to avoid being held to task for it, but they fuck it up.”

Caller: “Fuck it up how?”

Me: “By getting caught…  Usually by getting caught chasing after some past pussy.”

Caller: “…”

Me: “Now tell me how you came home over some pussy and found the federales waiting for you.”

Caller: “…”

Me: “And how are you on my phone?  You got the FBI on you and are an obvious flight risk!”

Caller: “I’m at my mama house on a tether, Covid worked in my favor.”

Me: “I’ll be damned”

Caller: “So what do I do?”

Me: “Step one?”

Caller: “Uh huh?”

Me: “Lose my number.”

Caller: “But--…”

Me: “I helped you once, and despite all the BEAUTIFUL Bahamian women – I’ve been a few times – your dumbass risked your freedom for one that had previously failed to work out.”

Caller: “Man…”

Me: “There’s a saying, ‘I’ve let my dick lead me into places I wouldn’t even go with a gun’ and you just BECAME that.”

Caller: “What can I do?”

Me: “Get the best lawyer you can afford.”

Caller: “I can’t afford one, that’s why I ran.”

Me: “Then I suggest you meet with the Public Defender and learn to pray.”

Caller: “That’s all you got?”

Me: “That’s all you getting.”

And I hung up the phone.  He was doing good that I even answered the call.  I don’t normally deal with unknown numbers and more often than not, Google identifies even the ones I don’t have saved.  His only saving grace is that Pixel didn’t mark him as spam.

I swear to whover y’all pray to, the sooner I can detach from my past life as a supervillain, the better off I will be.


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