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Tag Archives: drugs

Stinger ( Part Two )

09 Saturday Sep 2017

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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Tags

america, drugs, genetics, mexico, revenge, stinger, wasp

In part one of this story i introduced you to El Groucho the meanest baddest drug smuggler in Mexico.

El Groucho had been smuggling drugs into America for decades but over  the last year or so all of his efforts have been thwarted by the american authorities.

So he came up with a very cunning plan.

He kidnapped an genetic scientist and his family and held them for ransom.

The scientist was told to come up with a way to smuggle drugs that was invisible to radar or his family would be killed.

After a week of trial and tribulation he finally came up with the idea of genetically modifying a wasp.

A wasp that at first was the size of a sparrow but now has grown to the size of a small plane.

The modified wasp started flying back and forth between Mexico and America delivering saddlebags full of cocaine to the american public and bringing back millions of dollars to El Groucho.

But during the long lonely flights the wasp started to dip its stinger into the saddlebags sampling the product.

And pretty soon the modified wasp was addicted.

Back in his compound El Groucho after having the scientist and hid family murdered.

Was busy counting his money when the modified wasp crashed through his living room wall killing a Few of El Groucho’s henchmen.

While El Groucho narrowly escaped by the skin of his teeth and made his way to a secret fortress near the pico de orizaba mountain.

And the modified flew off with his saddlebags full of cocaine.

Part Two.

The modified wasp has almost reached Texas feeling strung out a little bit worse for the weather.

Its saddlebags are empty and it desperately needs some relief.

The wasp is now the size of a large glider and is just as silent and like a stealth bomber it is invisible to radar,

With a stinger as long as a javelin and as thick as a mans arm

It is a weapon of enormous proportions a weapon of death.

The wasp starts to feel a little nostalgic as it comes in for a landing.

He never knew his mother but he knows that she was born in this neck of the woods.

So this is the perfect place to recuperate and rid his body from the drug dependency.

He lands near a large cave and crawls inside to cleanse his body and mind.

Then he closes his eyes and enters a state of hibernation.

As the wasp sleeps he shakes and shivers as his body screams out for a fix.

But he is not alone because all of the local insects come out to lend a helping hand.

They tend to all of his needs as he goes through cold turkey.

Two weeks later the wasp opens his eyes to the start of a brand new life

It crawls out of the cave and starts to beat his wings getting ready for takeoff.

And as he prepares to take to the sky he has only two things on his mind.

Rid America and Mexico from the scourge of drugs and to find and kill El Groucho.

At his fortress in the north of Mexico El Groucho is busy setting up a new operation.

He is still recovering from his encounter with the modified wasp but he is determined to once again be a major player in the drug trade.

After all the Americans still need to feed their habits and El Groucho is more than happy to supply their misery.

The wasp has just entered Mexican airspace when his stinger starts to twirl and twist it has honed in on a drug making warehouse.

The wasp lands silently on the roof of the warehouse and using its stinger like a can opener it peels back the corrugated iron.

It looks down onto the workers below as they bag up kilo after kilo of cocaine

Then it drops down like a blood thirsty bumble bee.

It lands with a thud in the middle of the room and the bagger’s scatter in all directions.

But the wasp isn’t interested in them they are just peasant folk trying to feed their families.

All of his concentration is on four guards armed with machine guns.

Soon the bullets are flying and the wasp is hit by over twenty rounds but they have little affect.

Because the wasps body has also modified it is now a two inch thick combination of kevlar and carbon steel.

It is on the guards with lightning speed and they are all despatched with a single bite.

Then the wasp opens the bags of cocaine with its stinger beats its wings as fast as a hummingbird and the cocaine is gone with the wind.

Then the wasp fills its saddlebags with all of the drug money sets fire to the warehouse and takes off.

Once outside the wasp swoops down low over a local village  and empties the saddlebags that contain almost one million dollars.

All of the people race outside and fill their pockets with the money sent from heaven.

They have never seen so much money now they will be able to feed and clothe their families for years.

In the following months the wasp flies all over Mexico destroying every drug operation that it comes across.

Burning the drugs and raining down millions of dollars on the poor folk below.

And of course all of this activity hasn’t gone unnoticed by the media.

Television stations all over the country are reporting the story of a strange flying creature that is destroying drug operations and making the poor rich with money from the heavens.

The modified wasp is fast becoming something of a hero to the masses.

And the press have even given the creature a name ‘El Saviour’

But not all people are happy with the activities of ‘El Saviour’

Up in his fortress El Groucho is seething as he watches his TV with his eyes ablaze.

Something will have to be done about this ‘El Saviour’ so he picks up an encrypted phone and makes some calls.

He is calling his fellow drug barons who control the drug trade in Mexico.

They are all losing money hand over fist and they will stop at nothing to stop this ‘El Saviour’

And they agree to meet El Groucho at his fortress in three days time.

One by one the drug lords arrive at an airport fifty miles from the fortress  and they all board a helicopter supplied by El Groucho.

And they takeoff towards their destiny.

The drug lords are relaxing with shots of tequila  talking about ways to rid themselves from the menace of ‘El Saviour’

When from the corner of his eye the pilot notices an incoming threat.

A huge wasp is racing towards the helicopter and the pilot screams at his passengers to strap themselves in.

But his warning comes way too late.

‘El Saviour comes in low and fast and before the passengers can move he runs his stinger along the side of the copter.

And opens it up like a can of beans.

A few of the passengers are sucked out and slam into the rotor blades while the rest pray to their maker as the helicopter goes into free fall and hits the ground.

In his fortress El Groucho sees the flames on the side side of the mountain and his knees start to buckle.

He looks at the huge fireball and knows that he is in big trouble ‘El Saviour’ is nearby looking for a fight.

Bring it on motherfucker.

The modified wasp know that El Groucho is nearby but it is not quite sure where.

He waves his stinger and tastes the air trying to pick up a scent.

And sure enough he picks up a smell the smell of fear.

He gets his bearings and flies toward a fortress a mile away.

El Groucho is waiting for an attack and he isn’t surprised when a huge wasp appears on the horizon.

But he is surprised by the sheer size of it.

The wasp is now the size of a airliner and coming in fast.

El Groucho waits for the wasp to get within firing range

He puts a surface to air missile launcher to his shoulder takes aim and fires.

But the missile is deflected by the wasp and it loses its course and heads back towards the fortress.

‘Holy shit’ El Groucho screams as the missile streaks toward him

He runs as fast as he can but is still inside when the missile hits the fortress.

But once again luck is on El Grouchos side and he crawls outside virtually unscathed.

The fortress is now nothing more than a pile of rubble and El Groucho crawls toward a land rover to make an escape.

But he doesn’t get very far when ‘El Saviour comes in hard and fast and impales El Groucho in the thigh.

And carries him off toward the pico de arizaba mountain.

An active volcano.

El Groucho is wriggling like a fish caught on a hook as the modified wasp hovers above the crater.

Then the wasp points his stinger earthward and El Groucho falls into the molten lava.

El Groucho screams all the way down he cant believe that he has been defeated by a creature that he helped create.

His screams stop as he hits the lave and becomes nothing but ash.

The modified wasp smiles with satisfaction with a job well done

And in a heartbeat he is gone.

Destination unknown

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END

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Stinger

17 Saturday Jun 2017

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

cocaine, drugs, mexico, revenge, stinger, wasp

In southern Texas not far from the Mexican border a desperate scientist is looking

for a wasp.

And not just any wasp but a large female tarantula hawk.

A wasp known for its aggressiveness and large stinger.

 

The reason the scientist is desperate is because he is working for a dangerous drug smuggler from Mexico.

This smuggler is named El Groucho he is mean and nasty without any good bones in his body.

He has been sneaking drugs into America for over a decade but lately all of his attempts

from been thwarted by the US authorities.

So he has come up with a cunning plan instead of digging under the border he will fly over it.

So he has decided to use genetically modified wasps as drug mules.

 

That is where the scientist comes in.

His family was kidnapped by El Groucho a few weeks ago and if the scientist doesn’t genetically modify a wasp into a drug smuggler his family will be killed.

The scientist’s name is Dr Michael Chapman and he is the most respected genetic scientist in the USA.

 

El Groucho’s crazy idea is to have an aggressive female tarantula hawk wasp mated with a male mexican wasp known for its endurance and its temper.

But most of all for its extra large stinger.

So El Groucho is hoping to have the two nasty wasps offspring genenetically modified into drug smugglers with large stingers to fight off eagles and others large prey and to deliver the drugs to the american public at large.

 

Up in Laredo the scientist has finally located a female tarantula hawk and is on his way back to El Groucho’s compound in Nuevo Juarez Mexico.

The scientist thinks that El Groucho should be called El Loco instead because his plan is crazy and diabolical.

But he will do anything to save his wife and two children so he puts his foot down and drives towards Mexico.

 

He arrives at the compound four hours later and El Groucho rush’es him inside and orders him to get to work immediately.

The scientist refuses and tells El Groucho that he want start until he knows that hi family is safe.

So El Groucho orders one of his henchman to bring the family to him immediately.

And a few minutes later the scientist is reunited with his family where they hug and kiss for a while until his family is taken away and he is taken downstairs where a rudimentary laboratory has been set up.

 

The scientist has a look around and cant believe that El Groucho expects him to work under these conditions.

But he knows that he hasn;t got any choice so he puts the box containing the female wasp on a table and gets to work.

He looks over to a small glass enclosure about three foot square where a small male wasp is buzzing around.

He captures  the wasp and extracts a few drops of sperm from its body.

He places the male back into the enclosure and gets to work.

 

The scientist examines and modifies the sperm day and night for two days until he is satisfied.

He has one last look under the microscope and than tell s the henchman to summin El Groucho.

El Groucho enters the lab and congratulates the scientist and watches while the sperm is injected into the female.

The female is placed into the enclosure with the male wasp where they quickly size each other up.

 

The scientist is going crazy while he waits for the female to lay her eggs.

But two days later she goes to the corner of the enclosure and deposits three little eggs on the glass.

The male comes flies over to inspect the situation but is quickly stung multiple times by the female and quickly devoured.

 

The scientist and El Groucho are both disappoited by the size of the eggs.

All three of the eggs appear normal and the scientist knows that his family are now in very deep trouble.

Than the female falls to the bottom of the enclosure  where she starts to expand.

She continues to grow and grow until she explodes in a cloud of blood and guts.

 

What emerges is a large wasp about the size of a sparrow who bash’es against the glass trying to escape.

It continues to grow and is now the size of  a dove with a mean temper and a stinger the size of a mans finger.

El Groucho orders the scientist to put his arm into the enclosure and pull the wasp out.

The scientist isn’t to keen with this idea but he has little choice when the henchman comes up behind him brandishing a large machete.

 

The scientist Puts his arm inside the enclosure and is quickly stung by the large stinger.

He grimaces in pain but he places the wasp on the table where it looks at the humans in curiosity.

El Groucho feels like frankenstein  with his monster but he looks down at that wasp and starts to talk. “You are my creation and i am your master you will obey my every command and smuggle drugs to america  until i tell you to stop ,do you understand?’

The wasp who has now grown to the size of a falcon nods its head in understanding.

 

The scientist is in a bad way and is struggling to breathe.

He can do nothing but stare in horror as is family is brought to him and are slaughtered in cold blood by the henchman’s machete.

The scientist takes his final breath and he along with his family are dragged outside and dumped in the backyard.

 

For three months the wasp flies back and forth from Texas and Mexico delivering its evil wares.

Every time it returns it feeds on the scientist and his family has his saddlebags replenished and takes off for america once again.

 

On its way back to america the modified wasp is caught in a storm where it is battered by the wind and rain.

One of the saddlebags burst open and over a kilo of cocaine enters its system.

The wasp savours the taste of the drug and it immediately wants more.

It puts its stinger into the saddlebag and has another taste.

 

The wasp alters course and heads back to Mexico and his master.

It continues to have taste after taste of the drug until its brain becomes damaged by the drug.

The wasp who is now the size of an albatross with a stinger the size of a baseball bat is now on a rampage.

 

El Groucho and the henchman are in the compound counting all the dirty money when the wall comes crashing in.

They both look but cant believe what they are seeing.

The wasp has grown into enormous proportions it is now the size of a large dog and it is still growing.

Its stinger is now as long and thick as a mans leg.

 

The henchman swings his machete but with little impact.

The wasps exoskeleton is now armour plated with a two inch thick skin of steel.

It hovers over El Groucho and the henchman

Then it strikes.

 

The henchman is impaled on the giant stinger and is injected with venom and his insides quickly turn to mush.

The wasp sucks up his liquid lunch and with a burp of satisfaction he releases the dried up husk.

Than the wasp turns its attention to El Groucho.

 

But El Groucho is nowhere to be seen.

While the wasp was having its meal he made his escape.

The wasp is pissed off that it cant have a proper revenge.

So it digs once more into the saddlebags and has another taste.

Next stop Texas.

 

Part two is coming soon so stay tuned.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can make a donation so i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

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Lowest At My Highest

04 Saturday Feb 2017

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

addiction, despair, drugs, family, help

I pick at a scab on my face until it bleeds

And my skin is a nasty shade of yellow

Most of my teeth have fallen out

The drugs are starting to take a heavy toll

 

I am constantly scratching.

And my clothes reek of urine and desperation

I would do anything for a shower.

And to fall asleep in a nice warm bed.

I cant remember the last time that i ate a home cooked meal.

But first i have to score.

 

But my pockets contain nothing but a few coins and a shitload

of lint.

All i can do is walk the streets and wait for an opportunity.

And i don’t have to wait long.

 

Just up ahead a lady is enjoying a coffee at an outdoor cafe.

I am about to ruin her day big time.

She has made a huge mistake.

She has left her handbag sitting on the chair beside her.

Just waiting to be snatched.

 

She sees me approaching.

And i act like an normal person just going about my day.

And the lady doesn’t see the threat and looks away.

Just then i run forward grab that bag and take off.

I am gone before she can even cry out.

 

I go to my spot beneath a bridge to count the takings.

A total of five hundred and twenty dollars.

Enough to keep me going for a while.

 

My local supplier is waiting for me with everything that i need.

A little something to keep the wolves at bay.

Another trip to my so called paradise.

As the drugs take over my body.

I feel myself flying as high as a kite.

But at the same time i am feeling mighty low.

I always feel the lowest at my highest.

Ashamed of all the crimes that i have committed just to feed my

addiction.

I hang my head in shame.

But i know that i will have to score again tomorrow.

 

My name is Owen and i am now 24 years old.

And i have been using drugs since i was thirteen.

My parents were constantly fighting hurling abuse at each other.

So i escaped to the local park

Where i smoked dope to calm my nerves.

And i drank beer to drown my sorrows.

 

Well dope and beer are still my companions.

But now ice is my drug of choice.

It takes me to another dimension another space in time.

When i take i live on the very edge of existence.

Like sliding down the edge of a knife.

That is my life.

That is Ice.

 

I know that because of my appearance that i stick out like a sore

thumb.

But at the same time i can be invisible.

People look at me with a mixture sadness and loathing.

To them i am just another harmless bum.

But i will strike like a cobra when i need to feed my gremlins.

 

And right now my gremlins are hungry.

Every minute of every day all i think about is buying drugs.

My muscles twitch and my pores release the night sweats.

I cant sleep at night because of the constant cravings.

Only the drugs can bring me some sort of relief.

 

The money that i stole is almost gone.

So i decide to visit my grand mother for a meal.

And maybe a loan that i will never re pay

Gran knows that i have a drug problem.

And she has tried to get me help again and again.

But i always tell her the same old bullshit ‘Don’t worry gran

i can stop anytime that i want’

I have told her that lie so many times.

That sometimes i even start to believe it.

 

When gran answers the door.

I cant help but notice the look that she gives me.

A mixture of love pity and hate.

But i don’t blame her at all i have let her down so many times

over the years.

 

We chat away about family and stuff.

But the conversation always turns to my addictions.

As gran talks i block her out.

I know that she means well.

But i don’t need a lecture right now.

All i need is some money to buy my drugs.

I have stolen from gran in the past.

And i will do it again today.

 

When gran visits the bathroom.

I sneak into her bedroom and rummage around looking for jewellery

and money.

When i find what i need i call out goodbye to gran and walk out the

door.

 

After visiting my supplier.

I go to my favourite spot under the bridge.

To satisfy my needs and wants.

As i fly above the clouds i cant help but to think about gran.

She deserves a better grand son than me.

All she wants to do is help but i keep pushing her away.

Again i am feeling the lowest at my highest.

This fucking Ice has really got a grip on me.

And it isn’t letting go anytime soon.

 

A few days later gran’s money is almost gone.

So i head off towards my last resort.

Back to the park that i first visited when i was thirteen.

In the back corner is the public toilets.

Where i give blow jobs for $50 a go.

God i am not even high but i am feeling mighty low.

 

I now have enough money to last me about a week.

I even buy some food and some clean clothes from the salvation

army.

Where i start talking to the girl behind the counter.

Her name is Melissa and she offers to help me in any way that she

can.

 

I thank her for the offer ‘But i don’t need any help’

‘I am just going through a bad patch’

 

Once again i lie to myself and to people who want to help.

 

About a week later i leave my spot under the bridge.

On my endless quest to find money and drugs.

I am thinking about my situation so i don’t hear a group of thugs

coming up behind me.

I remember getting king hit and laying on the ground being

repeatedly kicked and stomped on.

Thankfully i don’t remember anything after that.

 

I wake up in a hospital a few days later.

With a fractured skull  and eye socket.

A few broken ribs and i am bruised from head to toe.

 

I don’t get any visitors.

Everybody gave up on me years ago.

And as i lie in that bed my addiction is crying out for attention.

I need to get out of here and fast.

As i am looking around for my clothes and a way to escape.

A girl enters my room wearing my room wearing a salvation army

uniform.

 

It is Melissa the girl from op shop who is going from room to room

visiting the sick and the lonely.

She recognises me and tells me that her offer still stands

If i want help all i have to do is ask.

I tell her ‘Thanks but no thanks i will be fine’

 

All i can think about is Ice.

And how to get my hands on some.

I know that i need help but i need the drugs more.

I must have been hallucinating.

And to this day i don’t know why i said it.

But i looked at Melissa as she was walking out the door.

And i silently screamed one word HELP.

 

I spent the next six months in rehab.

Getting rid of my demons and addictions.

It wasn’t easy.

I almost walked out the door a thousand times

But i thought about my family and friends that i have let

down badly over the years.

Especially my gran who i love dearly.

 

I walked out of rehab clean and sober.

Ready to start my life all over again.

I will need to find myself a job and somewhere to stay.

But firstly i need to visit my gran and apologise and being such

a bad grand son.

 

But i have to make a small detour first.

I go to my favourite spot under the bridge.

And i start to dig.

About a foot down i uncover what i have buried there.

An old biscuit tin that contains my treasured items.

Amongst all my stuff is grans jewellery that i just couldn’t

bring myself to hock.

 

I hold that tin close to my chest and walk towards gran’s  house.

 

I knock on the front door.

Not knowing what to expect.

She opens the door and her eyes light up ‘Oh Owen i thought you

must of overdosed or something’.

I walk in and put the biscuit tin on the table.

And i tell gran to open it.

 

She is surprised  to see her jewellery inside “I thought i would

never see these again’

“They aren’t worth much but they mean the world to me’

 

I tell gran about my time in rehab.

And how i have been stealing from her for years.

She just smiles ” I know i have been waiting for you to clean yourself

up and be a good person again.”

‘Welcome back’

 

If you are having problems with drugs or alcohol.

GET HELP.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

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Im Broken

18 Friday Dec 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

drugs, humiliation, rape, streetwise

I left home when I was Thirteen

Covered in scabs and bruises

I now live on the streets

The street of losers

On this street there aren’t any lights

But at least there aren’t any fights

I sleep under the Stars in the dark

On a rusty old bench in the Park

I cradle an Arm still in plaster

That is what happens when you don’t listen

to the Master

I had one too many falls down the stairs

I turned my Back and was caught unawares

A fall or a push it is all the same

Cause I would be the one to get the blame

Still only Thirteen

But I feel like I am Twenty Five

I have tried every trick in the book

Just to stay alive

Raid the Dumpsters for a scrap of food

At Thirteen I was a street wise dude

Late one night a group of guys arrived at my bench

I try to get my butt cheeks to clench

But they pull down my pants

No words were spoken

Im Broken

After that I tried all sorts of Drugs

But what I really needed was love

With lots of hugs

But I didn’t get any of that

So I started to live on the fringe

I had found a new Friend

A Drug filled syringe

My Eyes are dilated

But it took me away from the life I hated

Why is life such a piece of Shit?

It just piles up from where I sit

Piles and piles of the smelly Brown stuff

Please let me up I have had enough

I have to escape this life

But I have a Ball and Chain around my Leg

All I can do is hustle and beg

I sell my body and I sell my Soul

Then I am discarded like a lump of Coal

I am nothing but a piece of lint to be brushed aside

So just go inside my Head and try to hide

But I know that is just a token

Im Broken

I am hearing voices but not with my Ears

The voices mingle with my fears and my tears

My Head is getting crowded with a a lot of different

identities

I think I am on the verge of insanity

Maybe I should live my life in a straight jacket

In a Rubber walled Cell

But I am hearing so many voices who can tell

Maybe I am Bi Polar or Schizophrenic

But still the voices tell me don’t panic

I am glad that nobody knows my name

And that I am on the game

But I have to feed the voices to keep them quiet

I just to get down on my Knees

And get through the night

I feel like I am choking

Im Broken

I am now Eighteen and taking my Medication

I am off the streets and off the Drugs

Through a lot of hard work and dedication

The voices have all gone quiet

The only voice that I hear is my own

If that is a good or bad thing

Only time will tell

In the hope that my life stays sane

I count my blessings and visit the wishing well

I am now Twenty Five

With a lovely Wife Two Kids

And a big fancy Car

My past life is so near yet so far

I am no longer broken

Just slightly bent and twisted

Sometimes I think about the Drugs

They still need to be resisted

I am now living in a better space

I can walk down the street and show my face

Everybody has a past

But you cant live there

You have to live in the here and now

Because tomorrows aren’t forever

Your tomorrow might not arrive with the Sun

But just remember

In somebodies Eyes

You are number one.

THE END.

Thank you for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you please make a donation so that i can reach my dream and become a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

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Mr Big

29 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by stevenjohnno in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

drugs, vigilante

There is a house down the end of my street

In that house live’s a man,with a plan.

He want’s to rule the world.

One drug deal at a time.

His name is Neville,who personally know’s

the Devil.

And he live’s his life on many level’s

He have contact’s all over the state.

He is a man you would really love to hate.

Neville has a sidekick called Evil Eyed Stan.

He isn’t what you would call a nice man.

He would snuff out your life without thinking

twice.

I told you Stan isn’t very fucking nice.

Neville stand’s about 173cm and he has the build

and face of a Ferret.

He has never done anything good in his life.

Certainly nothing of merit.

Stan on the other hand is about 187cm tall

With a body and head like,Mr Potato Head.

He isn’t all that smart, not very well read

But mess with Stan and you are dead.

Neville has a dream

He want’s to be the kingpin.

He want’s to be the biggest crime lord in the

state.

He want’s it all now.

Neville doesn’t like to wait.

Wherever Neville goes,Stan isn’t far behind.

Neville is the Orange,Stan is the rind.

Neville is down in his basement cooking up

the medicine.

Stirring and tasting.

He couldn’t care less about the live’s he is

wasting.

Neville goes by many name’s but the one he

like’s the best is Mr Big.

Big by name,small by nature.

He live’s his life in thehighest stature.

Or so he think’s.

He is the lowest of the low.

He would stick a needle in anybody’s arm.

As long as the money is rolling in,what’s

the harm.

He has no conscience,all he think’s about is himself.

He live’s his life sitting on the top shelf.

Or so he think’s.

Mr Big is a Pig.

There is no other description.

He is a sleaze bag.He live’s his life on the suffering

of other’s.

He can see the tear’s of the Father’s and Mother’s.

But he turn’s a blind eye.

Well he does see,but he couldn’t care less.

Neville is in his basement.

Making up some more powder and pill’s.

Another deadly concoction,to cure your ill’s

He put’s his ware’s into a suitcase

and head’s out the door.

He is meeting Evil Eyed Stan down at the Pub.

One eye is on the suitcase,the other is watching

out for the Law.

Down at the local,Stan is waiting for the next

shipment to arrive.

But Stan is a bit worried.

He has been skimming the profit’s

And putting it in his pocket.

Evil Eyed Stan know’s that he has been taking

more then his share.

But he has been careful,Neville will never know.

He doesn’t hear the voice in his head saying,BEWARE.

Neville arrives with the suitcase and sit’s down next

to Stan.

A few word’s are exchanged

and the suitcase change’s hand’s

In a corner booth,sit’s a long haired stranger.

Who has been watching Neville and Stan’s

every move.

He is an undercover drug cop,Sgt Spencer is his

name.

And arresting sleaze bag’s like Neville and Stan

is his game.

Neville and Stan have taken their conversation

outside.

So they can talk business and have a smoke.

Standing just outside the back door.

Stan is feeling a bit drunk and relaxed.

Then he feel’s a hand on his shoulder.

Then a whisper in his ear ‘Nobody rip’s me off.’

Stan hear’s Neville’s voice,then he feel’s Neville’s

knife.

As it stab’s and slice’s,and end’s his life.

Stan is dead before while still standing on his feet.

Neville lower’s him to the ground,then give’s him a

kick in the head for good measure.

Neville the Devil incarnate,is now on the lookout for

a new offsider.

Someone who doesn’t mind getting his hand’s dirty.

Neville ask’s all the local tough’s if they know of any

suitable applicant’s.

And a few name’s are tossed around,they all live on the

wrong side of town.

The stranger from the corner booth is back.

And he has heard every word.

Perhap’s he should put his own name forward.

Throw his hat into the ring.

Then put Neville out of his misery.

And watch all the vulture’s sing.

Mr Big.

Think’s that he is immortal.

Mr Big.

Think’s that he is the best.

Mr Big.

Is about to be put to the test.

Speak of the Devil.

Neville goes about his business without a care

in the world.

He still carries that suitcase wherever he goes

Just like a business man about to close a deal.

But for Neville thing’s are about to get very real.

He is that arrogant,he doesn’t look behind him

as he stroll’s down the street.

He is off to the pub to interview some street

wise punk’s about the job vacancy.

The interview’s start,and the list of name’s has

gone from long to short.

The stranger from the corner booth,is waiting

his turn.

He patiently wait’s his turn to act like a thug and

not a cop.

He give’s the performance of his life and he get’s the

job.

Neville tell’s him to report for work at 7: am on the dot

He get’s in his car the next morning and drives

 

At 7: am on the dot,he knock’s on Neville’s front door.

He know’s one thing for sure,he is about to even the

score.

Neville open’s the door,and before he can say a word.

He is punched in the throat.

A blow that bring’s him to his knee’s.

He look’s up and say’s a croaky,’Please’.

The stranger from the corner booth has come to a

decision.

Neville isn’t going to leave this house alive.

Neville finally wake’s up and realise’s that he is tied

to a chair.

A rag is stuffed into his mouth.

His eye’s are open wide.

He know’s that his life is about to come to a painful end.

The stranger from the corner booth,doesn’t say a word.

He walk’s up behind Neville and slowly slice’s off Neville’s

left ear,then off come’s the other one.

Neville is trying to scream,but just a gurgling sound come’s

out.

Now he know’s what pain and suffering is all about.

But the stranger from the corner booth isn’t finished

and one by one he lops off all of Neville’s finger’s

The stranger from the corner booth search’s the house

and finally he find’s the suitcase,behind the lounge.

He get’s a tea spoon from the kitchen,and mixes up

some Cocaine and water.

He load’s up a syringe and give’s Neville an overdose.

He then just sit’s there and watches as Neville slowly

expires.

As Neville dies the stranger from the corner booth says a

silent prayer.

He prays for the lost sons and daughters,that fell to Neville’s

drug’s.

They will never go home,know more kiss’s no more hug’s

But Sgt Spencer know’s that he cant save every kid that fall

through the crack’s.

But he is happy cause he know’s that Neville is never coming back.

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