I came in second place in the great underwear race

     The competition this year would be stiff, that much I was certain of.  The word had spread far and wide about our little local event and so the big guns of the running world decided to add it to their list of important races.  I was the reigning champion and was less than impressed with these newcomers, they had no right to be here.  Especially with their custom made briefs that were designed to be aerodynamic and breathable.  The norm here was whitey tighties, this new technology would add a different challenge to us locals, we'd actually have to try for a change and our customary pre race getting sloshy drunk would have to be put on hold until afterwards.  I hate change.

     From what I could tell, the favorite to win was this scary beast of a man that was rumored to be a commando in the Turkish armies special forces.  His attire was skin tight camouflaged boxer briefs with a pair of socks stuffed in the crotch, or at least that's the lie I told myself so I wouldn't feel like a six year old boy.  I wasn't the only one scared of these new comers though, you could see the fear in fat Ralph's eyes and harry Larry had reportedly come down with a case of the "squirts" and dropped out of the race altogether.  It would literally be me against the world, win or lose I'd give it my all.

     The clock struck noon and Wilma struck the dinner bell on the porch of her old farm house, it was time to start.  There were around 50 of us at the line, you could actually smell the tension building by the second.  At any moment without warning a shotgun would be fired into the air and we'd set off on a grueling 2 mile trek forged out of the earth supposedly by Satan himself.  I would be at an advantage due to my preexisting knowledge of the twists and turns but I did notice the Turk doing some research earlier asking people who last years winner was and everyone pointed at me so I'd probably have a shadow
     Bobby Bradleys 12 gauge ripped through the air like a cannon blast, sending us into a frenzy of scattering feel as we lurched forward.  My strategy was to hang back for a second until we reached the dragons bend and then I'd make my move.  It worked like clockwork, I shot up to first and tripled my pace.  The finish line was within eyesight when I heard the heavy footsteps of the Turk right behind me.  It would be a sprint to the end.  I kicked it in high gear and shot off like a bullet, he followed suit.  We were neck and neck with about 8 feet to go and we both decided to dive for it.  We flew through the air in slow motion, our eyes were locked onto each other, both of our arms stretched out as far as they'd stretch.  Unfortunately his arms were longer and so they crossed the finish line first..  I'll always remember that day as the day I finished second place in the great underwear race.

The Mechanic

 I wouldn't be as powerful as I am without my minion. he's not really a minion, I mean he has a job, family, house, kids, wife, etc, etc. But for some reason or another, whenever I ask him to do something he doesn't even hesitate. If I need someone snuffed out, he's there. Someone has a broken kneecap coming to them, he's my guy. Always just a phone call away. I'm not sure if he's a violence junkie or what, but one thing I am certain of is that I fear no one else in this world more than I fear him.
     His name is Jeffery Lewis but I and a few other of his closest friends call him Larry. I'm not sure why or how he got that nickname but I prefer it over Jeffery. Everything about this guy is normal except for his lust to hurt people, that is unique only to him.
    We first met at a Halloween party when we were in high school. Both of us were dressed as the fonz from the hit show Happy Days and we ended up hitting it off like four flat tires. My empire was just getting off the ground and I told him of my need for a brute, a week later he scored his first assault, the rest is history.
     So I know you must be dying to know what exactly it is that I do. I like to refer to myself as a mechanic, my specialty is not cars or anything else of the nature but rather I fix people or situations. For example, done rich CEO has a deadbeat son or daughter that's hooked on drugs and dragging the family name through the dirt. What I do is infiltrate said deadbeat son or daughters life and over time after gaining their trust I fix them. Easier said than done but the pay and perks make the challenge well worth it. I work solely off of referrals and my calendar is filled for some time to come. I truly love my job.
     What part does Larry play you may ask?  I'm assuming you've heard the expression fight fire with fire, most of the time that's the only way to ultimately win.  Larry helps me starve their motivation.  I control how much money is coming from mommy or daddy and just as they've reached the point of deprivation, I'll have Larry rough them up or rob them or some other tragedy and when they're at their weakest point they turn to me, they're sort of friend that is equally as addicted as they are and I have whatever drug it is that they're craving.  Then I earn their trust, sometimes this is easy and other times it's nearly impossible.  It all depends on that persons ability to forgive.  Then after however long it takes to get them to where I need them to be, I'll suddenly have an "epiphany" of sorts, maybe a car "accident" or other life threatening event and I'll decide that it's time to change and I need my new best friend to help me.  Then we break whatever it was we were addicted to and in the end they end up going to work at the firm or bank or whatever business their parents own and it's a happy storybook ending with talking animals and shit. 
     What of all the loose ends though, like what happens once we're both clean and on our way to success?  Are we still friends to this very day?  It's another one of those it all depends on the situation things.  Like Derrick Young for example, he has a killer personality and a business drive that would rival anyone and so we're actually joint partners in an online advertising firm.  I'm more of a silent partner but we talk a couple times a month.  Usually though I have to end up getting a once in a lifetime opportunity across the country or even in a foreign country. 
     I actually had to fake a death one time with a girl.  Her name was Whitney Drake.  She was an ex teenage beauty queen turned coke head in college cause she hung with the wrong crowd and always had money.  Not long afterwards she quit school and proceeded to ruin her life.   She was daddy's little girl though so he hired me to save her.
     We first met in the basement of a methodist church on Fremont street.  One of the requirements for her to get her monthly allowance was that she had to attend a weekly addiction meeting.  Unbeknownst to her, this particular meeting just so happened to be privately funded by her fathers company and was ultimately geared towards her and not the rest of the degenerates that came for the free donuts and coffee.
     She was late, but i had figured she would be.  I'd spent the  previous month studying her habits and daily routine while also getting myself addicted to cocaine.  In order for this to work people have to believe you are just as depraved as they are.  I've done a fine job making myself look believable.  I also had her father cut off her money supply and Larry broke into her apartment two nights ago and took anything of value, there wasn't much.  I'll make my move tonight, she should be at a pretty weak place right about now.  My little goodie bag will pep her up though.
     Fifteen minutes into the meeting and she finally showed up.  Her high heels clicked like an air horn on the concrete floor, her clothes and makeup were disheveled like she'd just turned a trick and she was smoking a cigarette.  What a mess this one is.  But through it all she still kept her beauty for the most part, and beauty will take a person a long way in this world.
      She sat in the circle across from me and dug in like she always does.  You could tell by her grimace that she did not want to be here and was only taking part cause she had to.  Her confession would be amusing, Mike the moderator would hate life.
"Thanks for sharing with us Jay.  Are you ready Whitney?"  He half heartedly asked this knowing exactly what was going to happen.
     To my surprise she seemed excited as she sat up in her chair and cleared her throat.
     "Yea thanks for sharing Jay," she said sarcastically.  "Really turned my life around.  You know what's really wrong with you people though, you come in here hoping that Mike over there will waive a magic wand and cure you of your addiction and you forget to realize that the only person to blame and the only person that can help you is yourself.  I'm tired of the woe is me bullshit, stop being a bunch of babies and do something about your miserable little lives, and furthermore....."
     Mike raised his hand to silence her.
     "That's enough for today Whitney and we'd all appreciate a little more respect and understanding during your confessions.  These people are here for help and not to be belittled."
     As Whitney slumped back in her chair she flipped Mike the bird.  This girl was already winning a place in my heart.
     Forty five minutes or an eternity passed and finally Mike concluded the meeting.  After some mingling and hugs everyone started to depart except for me, I had to have a little heart to heart with Mike about canceling the next two sessions.  I needed her full  attention for awhile.
     If all went as planned she would be in the back booth at O'malleys pub trying to figure out a way to get high and drinking free beer from all the old perverted patrons.  My plan was to walk by in the way to the restroom, give her a nod of recognition and then ask if I could buy her a drink on my way back.  It kind of worked out like that.
     When I walked in the bar the song Mr. Crowley was playing on the juke box.  One of my favorites.  I spotted her sitting alone as usual and started heading towards the restroom, she immediately recognized me.
"I know you," she said.  "You were in the cocaine addiction meeting earlier.  Sorry I didn't catch your name though.  Wanna have a drink?"
     I was shocked at first for some reason but sat down across from her.
"Whatcha drinking," I asked?
     She thought for a few moments before saying, "jack and coke if your buying."
     I gave her a smile and told her I'd be right back.  After a short trip to the bar I made it back with drinks in hand, for a second I thought she forgot she had talked to me when I sat down.  I decided to go ahead and break the ice.
     "You wanna a bump,"  I asked
     She looked at me kind of suspiciously like I was a cop or something.  I quickly pulled out my grinder, and scooped out a nice size line on the table and snorted it up.  Then I passed it over to her.  She followed suit and in no time flat we were on cloud nine.  This was probably the best coke she'd ever tried and the irony is it was bought by her father.  At that point I was certain of at least one thing, it was going to be one crazy ass night.