I love those cuts

Chanuga Rollins

 

June Winter hated men, oh sure she used them when it was convenient, but overall, she hated them. Just coming into the state of Massachusetts June needed to find a decent motel, it was at a traffic light when she first saw them, three outlaw bikers. It wasn’t the men that caught her attention or their motorcycles, it was their cuts or colors as they called them, they fascinated her, so she followed them.

A few blocks away from where she first saw them the bikers pulled in the back of what looked like an old single-story building most likely being used as their clubhouse, she pulled around back and saw several more motorcycles all lined up. The windows were bricked up and the building had a steal door with the club insignia on it, this was definitely their clubhouse. The building also had several security cameras around it.

June pulled away but made a mental note of where the place was as she looked for a motel in the area. Once in her motel room, she tried to remember the club's name as she logged in on her laptop. She thinks the name of the club was called the “Heathen Souls,” a stupid name she thought. But it did come up and right where she was staying in the Boston area, according to their web page the club has been around since the 1980s, and its members have had many legal issues with drugs, and firearms, the clubhouse has also been raided many times. June sat back and made several mental notes, she wanted one of them vests.

 

June only planned on staying in the Boston area for a short time because she hated it, they sounded like fucking retards. Her plan was to get one of them vests and blow town, she decided to kill one of the “Heathen Souls.”

This wasn’t June Winter’s first time contemplating murder, in fact in her thirty years of life she has committed four murders to date. Her first was a boy from her sixth-grade class, the boy showed affection for a girl that June fancied, she bludgeoned him to death while he took a shortcut through the woods. Police blamed that murder on an adult serial killer who was plaguing the area at the time. Police eventually shot and killed him, forcing June to hone her craft more cautiously.

First things first, June had to find out where the “Heathen Souls” drank, which turned out to be easier than she thought, they drank at a place right around the corner from their clubhouse at a bar called “Scotties.” So, June went there to check the place out, and as luck would have not one biker was in there.

A couple of nights later June showed up at “Scotties” again, there wasn’t one “Heathen Souls” in the place. Fuck me, June thought she even felt like getting laid, but I guess not tonight, she left a tip and headed for the door. Two blocks away from the bar she saw a member of the “Heathen Souls.”

The biker had a girl riding with him, most likely his girlfriend, June followed them, and a couple of miles into it the biker hit an isolated area. This is where she decided to make her move, she stepped on the gas to pass, but once she was parallel with the biker she put her window down pulled a gun, and fired.

The bullet hit the biker right in his temple killing him instantly, his female passenger was thrown from the motorcycle onto the wet asphalt, and June immediately pulled over. She walked over to the female passenger put the gun to her head and said sorry darling, then fired. Trying to be careful not to get blood on the vest she removed the biker's colors, then searched him and took his gun. Just to make sure he was dead she put another bullet into the biker's head, got back into her car, and drove off feeling proud of herself. Tomorrow I’ll leave this shitty town she said to herself.   

The next morning, she packed her shit and headed south, June bypassed New York, too crowded for her and she had people looking for her there. Jumping on the New Jersey State Parkway she chose a shore town to hold up in for a bit, it was the month of June, and the shore was still kind of dead except for the weekends, but she didn’t care she wouldn’t be staying there long either.

Renting a room at one of the motels she brought her stuff in, not that she had much, June traveled very light. That night she went to sleep with the biker's vest next to her. The next morning in the news there was a small mention of a biker and his girlfriend being murdered near Boston, police said that the shooting may be gang-related. June just smiled, she hid the vest in her suitcase and went to find a place to have breakfast.

Walking around, June found the Jersey shore very relaxing, the small café that she went into to have breakfast had a Help Wanted sign hanging in the window, and she applied for the job. At 5’10, with a pretty face, blonde hair, nice tits, and a fit physique, she was hired on the spot by its horny owner.

June was to start her new job in three days, which gave her plenty of time to get acquainted with the town. June was a drifter, she didn’t have any credit cards to deal with, home or car loans, and everything was done in cash or money order. The car she was driving belonged to her ex-boyfriend who vanished without a trace, just thinking of what she did to him still makes her smile, which reminds her to dump the car when she gets the chance. Her new job was just around the block from the motel, so she didn’t need a car at the moment. But if she needed to leave town fast there was a Greyhound nearby.

On the first day of her new job, she got up early, she didn’t have to be at work until 2pm, but she noticed a bridge going over the bay and decided that it would be the perfect place to dump the gun that she used to kill that biker and his girlfriend in Massachusetts.

After getting rid of the gun June went to a real estate office to find a cheap one-bedroom apartment within walking distance of her job. After she registered with the real estate people she went to work to start her first day.

June hated the way guys ogled her, but looking at herself in one of the diners' mirrors she couldn’t help but admire her nice ass. After a few weeks on the job and close to closing time June started to count up her money, for a shitty place she made excellent tips, tonight she took in almost one hundred and seventy bucks. She also loved that she didn’t have to split it with anyone. In most places, the wait staff had to split their earnings at the end of the night, fuck that she thought. She did have to give the busboy a percentage of her tips, but she was ok with that he was a good kid. That’s when a biker walked into the diner.

The Jersey Jokers were a long-established New Jersey-based motorcycle club with three chapters in the state, no one outside the club knows their exact numbers but it’s estimated to be around three hundred. June began to salivate when she saw his colors, she wanted his cut.

Even though her shift was done and the diner was ready to close the biker insisted on a hamburger and fries to go. Look chief we’re closed, you’re going to have to go to McDonalds up the block. Fuck you the biker said and stormed out. June was intrigued, she never wanted to kill someone more than this fucking guy. You go girl, the owner said that guy’s trouble you watch your back, his name is Claw and he’s been causing trouble around here for years.

Moments later the biker came back in, he walked up to June and grabbed her by the throat, the owner of the diner saved her by walking up to the biker and asking him to leave, in his hand was one of the biggest meat cleavers that he had in the kitchen. The biker backed off, this ain’t over bitch, he again walked out of the diner. What’s he have mental problems, June asked? Yeah, he’s known for it, Doug the owner said. You going to be ok the owner asked, this guy’s an animal. Don’t worry I know how to deal with animals, June said as she was leaving the diner.

As June walked to her motel room, she didn’t notice anyone following her, bummer she thought, she really felt like killing someone tonight.

The next day one of the real estate people got a hold of her, a one-bedroom apartment was just listed in her price range she immediately went to look at it. For the price the place was actually nice, old fashioned, the kitchen and bathroom were prehistoric but usable. The place belonged to an old lady who recently passed, and no she didn’t die here, the real estate person said. Don’t matter if she did, June said I’ll take it. June went back to the real estate office to do some paperwork and leave a deposit, she could move in in a week, but they had to clean and paint the place first.

She still had to get rid of her car unfortunately, she wished that she could sell it, but she didn’t have the title. While she mulled over what to do with the car she walked to work.

A few hours into her shift that biker Claw and two other members of the Jersey Jokers showed up at the diner. I want that burger and fries now bitch, Claw said to June. Were you born an asshole June asked? The two bikers with Claw started laughing, you’re right Claw, she has balls. The owner came out from the back with his meat cleaver, is there a problem…  It’s cool man, one of Claw’s buddies said we’re just fucking with her, no harm done, the bikers ordered some food and kept to themselves after that.

That night when June left the diner Claw was waiting for her, what do you want June asked the biker. Let’s have a drink the biker asked. Not tonight I’m beat, maybe another time June said. But her mind was racing, she knew that there were cameras outside of the diner and on her way home so she couldn’t kill this scumbag just yet. Can you get rid of a car for me, June asked the biker. Of course, show me the car then leave the keys in the ignition and sometime during the night someone will come pick it up, the biker said. Great, thanks a lot, but I don’t have any paperwork on it, it belonged to an ex who disappeared. No problem we’ll take care of it Claw said. June gave Claw a small peck of the cheek and walked home.

The next morning when she woke up the car was gone, June went about her day and the car was one less thing for her to worry about. Claw was waiting for her when she got to work, he was occupying one of the booths. June thought that maybe getting his colors was going to be easier than she ever imagined because this guy was an idiot.

When June’s shift ended Claw took her to his favorite bar, where she met other members of the Jersey Jokers. Although she was nowhere near perfect, June couldn’t help but look at these people as pure scum. Members of the club talked, no, bragged about rapes, molesting children, and a host of other vile shit, the men farted and picked their noses, even the women were scumbags, and many of them smelled of old pussy and body odor.

When June got home she immediately jumped into the shower, never in her life had she been around such obnoxious dirty people. She went to sleep thinking about how to rid the world of Claw.

The next day she was given the keys to her new apartment by the real estate people, June could move in whenever she wanted. She immediately went to the motel and picked up what little she had and checked out. Her new apartment was only a short walk to her job, so she didn’t really need a car, but getting one was on the list. Over the next few weeks June let her fingers do the walking, she found almost everything she needed online to furnish her new place. Through Craigslist and eBay, and with some negotiating most of the stuff was delivered right to her door where she paid in cash.

A couple of months have passed since June met Claw who was now incarcerated on weapon and drug charges, he took off after posting bail but was recaptured in Florida. It was August now and the summer was winding down, by the second week of September the tourists would have gone home, and the dinner would close for the season, the owner had a home in Florida where he spent the winter. June also had to be out of her apartment by October 1^st, her apartment was only a seasonal rental, but it wasn’t a problem New Jersey was starting to wear on her.

June managed to save up almost eight thousand dollars, she was still calculating figures in her head as she walked home from the diner. Almost to her apartment an arm came out of nowhere and got her in a choke hold, you going to invite me in, she couldn’t make out who the figure was at first all she could see were some tattoos on this person's arms.

By the smell of this guy June assumed that it was one of Claw’s buddies, forcing his way into her apartment she was right it was a member of the Jersey Jokers, his name according to the patch on his jacket was “Raunchy.” Claw said that you owed him for some car and Claw owes me, so he gave you to me, and now you're mine. But before I put you on the street to make some money I need a little taste know what I mean, the biker said with a toothless smile.

Of course, slick I know the rules June said, why don’t you sit in that chair while I get these clothes off. She proceeded to remove her top, then her bra, with one swift movement, June pulled a gun out from under a pillow on the couch and shot the biker one time right between his eyes. Fuck, now I have to clean this shit up, and where am I going to dump this fucking scumbag. June did however manage to get his vest off without getting blood on it, however, the vest smelled like body odor, really bad body odor.  

Dismemberment was June’s only option, she dragged the biker to the bathroom and put him into the tub. She stripped him naked and since she had no rope, she cut the biker's vitals, his wrists, his throat, and so on, she left him in the bathtub with the water from the shower running overnight to help get rid of the draining blood.

The next morning, she went into the bathroom to check on the smelly fucker in the tub, lucky for her she was off today. First things first, June went and rented a car, from there she went to a local Walmart where she bought two pieces of cheap luggage, a saw, rubber gloves, and a box of plastic heavy-duty black contractor bags. She paid in cash so there wouldn’t be a record of it.

Then she returned home and dismembered the asshole in her tub, head, arms, and legs, in one bag, torso in another. Then she put those bags into the two pieces of luggage, her plan was to dump them in the pine barrens later that night, and after she cleaned her apartment. After midnight, June carried the two pieces of luggage out to the rental car and put them into the trunk. A couple of miles out of town June went off the highway and went down the first dirt road that she could find, that’s where she discarded the biker's body.

Monday morning came fast, as June was having her morning coffee she couldn’t help but notice a white van pass by her apartment a few times, slowing down when they went by. But June wasn’t overly concerned, this was the Jersey Shore people were up and down her street all the time.

On her way to work, June dropped off the rental car, the rest of her evening was pretty standard until she was checking out for the evening, and that’s when she saw the same van from earlier in the day.

Before leaving the diner June made sure that the gun was ready to use then she made her way home.

June never made it home, her body was found three days later submerged in the bay, she was beaten to death. Several months later an informant came forward and pointed a finger at the Jersey Jokers motorcycle club for June’s murder, five members were eventually charged.

The end

Copyright 2024 

 How not to hide a body

By Chanuga Rollings

 

In December of 2023 I finally received my concealed carry permit in New Jersey, I went through hell getting it, not to mention all the money I spent. On a pleasant April evening, I decided to take a drive to the Jersey shore, at this time of year the tourists haven’t come into town yet so you can pretty much have the beach to yourself.

I chose Surf City, once I got onto Long Beach Island. I parked my car on the street as close to the beach entrance as I could, it was a beautiful night but still very chilly. The entrance to the beach was a climb, you had to latterly climb over a very big dune to get to the water,  they built up the dunes due to beach erosion, but slowly the island was still sinking.

I got halfway over the dune when I noticed some guy sitting on one of the benches, it was dark out, but he looked to be in his late twenties from what I could tell. Hey man, can you loan me a dollar, the young man asked as I passed him. Loan you, really, when will I be getting that buck back? I said laughing. Ok, how about I blow you for ten bucks, I haven’t eaten in a while the young man said back. How about you go and get a fucking I said irritably.  

The thought of this guy or any man for that matter sucking my dick repulsed me, and I walked away without saying another word. I got over the dune and walked across the sand to the water’s edge. Staring at the waves for a few minutes, I began to walk along the beach, and then I just happened to look up. Standing on the dune was the guy that I just passed, he was watching me. It was a dark night, the moon for the most part was covered by clouds, but I could tell that it was him, and we were the only ones out there. I thought about confronting him, but I just let it go.

I have always loved the sound of the waves crashing, it’s so soothing. I needed this tonight, the calmness of the ocean was like therapy for me right now. My girlfriend and I just broke up after seven years, two weeks ago she told me that she was in love with a guy from her office. A fucking liberal and Trump hater, unlike me, she said that she couldn’t live with a Trump supporter anymore and that it was bad for her image.

On top of that, I just lost my job for kicking a manager down a flight of steps, I didn’t like him talking down to me in front of his peers for something that I didn’t even do. Life is a miracle, but at times it can also suck!

With the sound of those soothing waves, I must have walked a quarter mile down the beach, so when I turned around I happened to see a dark figure standing on a dune watching me. I knew it had to be that fucking guy, he followed me down the beach, but why, that was the mystery question of the evening.

As I walked back to where I started from, this creep staying on the dunes kept following me. Maybe this idiot thought that I couldn’t see him but as I got closer to where I came in he sped up making sure to catch me before I got to my car.

I just got over the dune when he ran up to me, pulling what looked like a butcher knife this asshole demanded all my money and my car keys. That’s not going to happen, kid, he lunged at me with the knife, what could I do, I pulled out my gun and fired one shot hitting him right between his eyes, I saw the life drain from his face as he fell onto the sand.

Now, I’m no fucking lawyer but I do know that our justice system in New Jersey is grossly liberal which means that this prick probably has more rights than I do. I had to think, I could just leave him here on the dune, but with forensics, and DNA, my paranoia was in full swing.

With my mind racing I decided to bury this idiot, to be fair, I did almost call the cops, but then I thought better of it, with no witnesses, I didn’t feel like answering all those questions, and chances are I still would have been charged with murder, or at the very least manslaughter, fuck that. 

I dragged this guy to my car which was about twenty feet away and put him in the trunk, thank god I had an 8x10 piece of plastic tarp in the trunk, I covered the trunk with the tarp and put his body on that. I took another look around just to make sure no prying eyes were watching me, I left my car lights out until I hit the main road to get off of the island.

Once off the island, I pulled over into a fast food restaurant, I went through this guy’s wallet, he was only 27 years old, and his name was Lenny Evens, and he was from Philadelphia. I had some huge decisions to make, or I could spend the rest of my life in prison for killing this useless piece of shit.

And then it hit me, back on the island there was a huge building boom going on, I could bury him on the property of one of them big homes being built, and hopefully they would never find him. After coming out of the fast food restaurant I ate my food as I made a U-turn back to Long Beach Island. I drove down to Holgate, it was the last town on the island and with the least amount of people living there this time of year. The house I chose was the last one before hitting a small public beach, it was perfect.

I parked my car and dragged this guy to the back of a huge home being built, and then I ran out front and moved my car. I pulled it into a small public parking lot about 200 feet from where I was going to bury this guy. After parking my car, I ran back to the body, lucky me, some contractor left a shovel because I hadn’t even thought of that, I was going to use my hands and feet to dig the hole, I had no prior experience digging graves.

I spent the rest of that evening digging an eight-foot-deep hole, after which I threw this guy in, filled in the hole, and left. 

Several weeks later there was a knock at my door, it was the police with a warrant for my arrest, apparently people having expensive homes  built on Long Beach Island also like having surveillance cameras. The folks that were having that home built were watching me bury that guy on their cell phone, fuck me!

The end

 Kingpin: The one who got away.

By Chanuga Rollins

 

Let me start off by saying that I’m a bum, know, an extraordinarily lazy bum, and a certified porch monkey, and always have been. I’m also a high school dropout, actually, the 9^th grade was officially my last time in school, and although they bumped me up to high school I never showed up to class. 

Life for me was out on the street, one of my first crimes was bringing in and selling liquor. We used to go down to Maryland where the sales tax was a lot cheaper than in New Jersey and resell it, I was 17 at the time. A guy by the name of “Bang Bang” was our main buyer, one day he advised me that if I was going to be in crime I needed a front like some sort of shitty job.   

I still remember the first time I put on a security guard uniform, in all honestly I felt like an asshole.  The company was called Globe, and they sent me out to work the night shift at a National Guard facility in one of the nearby townships. The work was easy, in fact, a monkey could have done this job. The hardest part was staying awake.

The only inconvenience was that every hour I had to make rounds outside the perimeter of the building, it was winter, and it was freezing out. On my first round, I spotted some cases of guns, they were in a small fenced-in area, there were about eight cases of them, and all were 45 caliber.  It took me a few days to figure out how to swipe them without getting caught.

On the third day working for Globe, I figured out that there were no alarms or cameras, I know this because I tossed a 2x4 over the fence to see what would happen, but nothing did. Unfortunately, although I had a big ring of keys none fit the gate, so I had to climb over the fence which sucked.  I managed to get one case over, I didn’t realize just how heavy eight guns to a case can be, in all I took three cases before calling it quits.

I would have taken them all, but dawn was fast approaching, and these military tight-asses would be coming into work soon. I loaded the three cases of guns into the trunk of my car and went back in to clean up, the three cases were dusty. Right at 5am the first one showed up, I didn’t know his rank but judging by all the gold shit on the brim of his hat I assumed that he was high up. I said good morning, but the old prick ignored me, but the thought of the three cases of guns in the trunk of my car made me smile. I held on to the guns for about six months before I sold them to a neighbor, who was a mob associate that I was friendly with for about a hundred a piece, I made $2400, not a bad buck in 1975.  

I never did work at that National Guard place again, I guess that old prick didn’t like my looks or something, but Globe didn’t fire me instead they sent me to another money-making location. And I never did get caught for taking them guns.

My next assignment was a motor vehicle facility in downtown Trenton, another midnight shift, but it didn’t’ take me long to find the blank drivers licenses and registrations. By this time, I made friends with a biker who lived around the corner from my house, he was a member of a one percenter motorcycle club, a fairly big one. One day while watching him work on his bike I happened to mention these driver's licenses and registrations, and a huge smile came over his face.

He was willing to pay me thirty dollars for a pair, consisting of one driver’s license and one registration, in six months I made around 30.000 dollars and again I never got caught. One night I did however fuck it all up, a female state employee was giving me a blowjob when the second shift supervisor showed up and I wasn’t at the front desk. He came back for his briefcase that he forgot, I was only in the room next door when I heard knocking. That pissed me off, so I slapped the old bastard right in the lobby of motor vehicles and Globe security fired me the next day.

If you were lazy and I certainly was, being a security guard was a great way to make a living if you used your imagination. My next security job was with Capitol Security, the company was owned by an ex-Trenton cop. The job itself paid shit, I think it paid $2.50 an hour hardly a living wage, but this was in the 1970s. So, I  didn’t feel guilty supplementing my income, later I found out that this ex-cop was as crooked as they come in his business practices.  

Capitol Security sent me to work in a closed-down factory, so after a week of getting the feel for the place, I let my mob associate neighbor have card and crap games there. It was perfect, the whole place had a huge fence around it eliminating the chances of being held up. If your name wasn’t on the list I didn’t let you in it was that simple. Some nights there would be a hundred guys in the building gambling, we didn’t even have to find tables or chairs we took them from a nearby conference room. I took in about $200 a night and we ran games 4 to 5 nights a week, but after seven months the building was sold, and Capitol Security lost the contract.

That security company sent me to another closed-down factory, it was called Stangl Pottery, that shit goes for big bucks on the internet today, but back in the 70s, it was almost worthless. I made some money reselling whatever pottery I could, but I wasn’t making anywhere near what I was. We couldn’t start the games back up because this place was in the ghetto, and it was too dangerous for the players to come there, but after a week I got fired for leaving my post.

My next security job was with a company called Burns, this company had me work in two locations, one was in Flemington, NJ at the Lipton Tea plant, and the other was Johnson & Johnson in Skillman, NJ,  and I made money from both.

At Lipton Tea because I worked the night shift and was the only one in the building, from day one I loaded up my car with iced tea mix and sold the cases to a store in my neighborhood.

The same with Johnson & Johnson, I stole mostly diapers, they were huge sellers, and again I was bringing home two grand a week I just turned 19.

At my mob associate neighbor's advice, I started loaning out money, although I didn’t like this much. Eventually, I stopped doing it, too many degenerates to deal with and chase down, I hated that, and I was never a tough guy.

But I did find many other money-making opportunities, one weekend I brought a date to the local church carnival, and they were selling raffle tickets for a buck a pop, the line was a mile long.

This gave me an idea, why not sell phony raffle tickets all year long, so I got a phone book and picked a church way down in South Jersey, I made the prize 5000 dollars then went to a friend of mine whose father was a printer. I had about 30,000 tickets printed, it cost me ten bucks. It would have taken me god knows how long to sell all them tickets on my own, so I wholesaled them out, twenty tickets a book for ten bucks. Within just a few months I made give or take around fifteen grand, not bad for a ten-dollar investment.   

My next scum paid much more and a lot faster, the same printer printed me hundreds of invoices, so with a typewriter I just had to fill them in and send them to small and medium-sized companies around the country for services rendered. This was before computers and if you kept the amount below say 300 dollars most of the time they just sent you a check. The store owner who bought the iced tea from me and for a cut cashed those checks for me.

  By now I rented a small first-floor apartment, I didn’t live there, it was just my headquarters/warehouse for stolen goods and a mailing address. I never brought anyone to my apartment, I have many friends and associates, but I didn’t trust many of them. I know that this sounds harsh, but most of them were just like me, you can’t trust people like me we’re criminals. Besides, when people get busted and face a long sentence they will trade what they know about you for a lighter sentence, that’s just a fact, I operated alone, I prefer it that way, if I needed muscle I knew where to find it.

One day the security director at Johson & Johnson was talking shit to me so I told him to fuck himself, of course, he called Burns Security and got me replaced. Then a week later Burns Security lost the contract at Lipton Tea, and the company decided to shut down their Flemington operations, this sucked for me financially, but I knew that I would survive.

By now it was the 1980s and things were changing, my friends were rapidly going into drugs, cocaine especially, I was never interested in the drug trade, you had to deal with way too many personalities, and I hated that.

 I have always avoided the mob, I didn’t like being told what to do by some egotistical psycho, so I did all I could to stay away from them, and then it happened. My mob-associated neighbor and friend was murdered, his body was found in the trunk of  his car. Because of the circumstances, I didn’t attend his viewing or funeral, I knew that law enforcement would be monitoring everyone coming and going so I stayed away.   

I didn’t know how I felt about his murder, in hindsight it was none of my business he was a big boy he knew what he was getting into. But after his death, I decided to go straight, this criminal shit was starting to get weird, all over New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia, mob guys were being murdered left and right, so I started to look for a legitimate job.

 

Sometime later I got a job with American Standard, a factory job. After about a week I wished that they found me in the trunk of a car, I fucking hated it, hot as fuck, and the employees were kind of strange, they were like mutants. But I stuck it out four years, but on my anniversary date I got fired, I got blamed for something that I didn’t do, and because I was a loner and not very popular I was expendable, but I didn’t give a shit it was summer.

So, with no job and a nice hefty stack of cash stashed away, I planned on taking some time off and just relaxing, I deserved it. Hanging out with my friends most of which also didn’t work… We started hitting the clubs at night, disco was the rage, I hated disco!

I was never showy, I learned a long time ago not to flaunt, most of my friends unfortunately never learned that. Many of them didn’t have jobs, they dealt drugs, but they also went out and bought Cadillacs, Lincolns, etc. They also bought the best clothes and wore expensive gold rings and chains, to me this kind of behavior was stupid, they liked people knowing that they were involved in criminal activity. I never wore gold, nor did I dress fancy, I dressed nice but very simply, sports jacket, jeans, and a t-shirt, and my car was a 1971 Chrisler Imperial nothing fancy. Spending money when you don’t have a job will do nothing but get you busted.

After a year of lying idle, a girl I was dating suggested getting a job with the state, she mentioned a security guard position to me. 

I was very leery of working for the state, not only were the security guards under the direction of the New Jersey State Police but state employees were some of the weirdest fucking people on the planet.

Getting a position with the state proved to be a little more complicated than I anticipated and a few times I almost called it quits, for openers the job didn’t pay all that great for all the trouble that I had to go through.

After some phone calls, I finally found out where to go and pick up an application. I filled it out and turned it in, the lieutenant who does the hiring wasn’t available, but they said that he would be in touch. Several months went by and nothing, I did however have this guy’s card.

 I’m a very aggressive guy when I want something, so I started calling this lieutenant, relentlessly. I called him two to three times a week, he was always in meetings, or some other shit, and he never returned my calls. This security job became an obsession for me, so I increased my calls to once a day, then after eight fucking months one day he was finally there, and I got to talk to him. He said that I was a persistent bastard and scheduled an interview with me for the following week.

I showed up to the interview in a suit and tie and all went well, I was fingerprinted and told that they would get back to me with a starting date. Again, it took another couple of months, my stash of cash was running low then one day I got the call. I was scheduled to pick up my uniform the next day, and then report for orientation two days later.

Orientation was held at the state police headquarters in West Trenton, I never saw so many state police in my life, it was a whirlwind of blue uniforms and yellow stripes. The orientation lasted most of the day and being that I was on the clock when it was over they sent me back to the state house to begin training. My sergeant at the time welcomed me and another guy to the state house. He said that only the elite of guards got sent here, I looked the other guard up and down, he must have weighed three hundred pounds at least.

I don’t know what the state police considered elite, but it wasn’t these fucking guards. Everyone that I met for the remainder of that day was more fucked up than the last one, I was no prize, but most of these guards were the underbelly of society.

Over the next few months, I filled in for any guard that called off on the “State House Complex.” The complex consisted of six buildings with a total guard force of 70 to 80 guards, except for maybe three or four of them, the security force was useless and not worth what they were getting paid. The guards on the complex were more worried about food and other trivial things than their actual jobs.

The security force was bad, and I mean really bad, many of the guards could barely read or write, and many of the black guards who numbered more than half didn’t even know their zip or area codes. Many of them were obese and out of shape, then one day I found out something that explained a lot to me, about 80% of the guards were the relatives of the state police and other state employees.

Everything I heard about working for the state was true, many of its employees I believe are retarded including the guards. My first brush with them came when I was assigned to be a rover for the day, just like it sounds you wander around the building it’s about being seen so that the state employees feel safe. So, one day I’m roving, and I said good morning to this lesbian/man-looking woman and this bitch filed a sexual harassment charge against me.

I got out of it, but this is how many of the state employees are, their fucking nuts. So, from then on out I pretty much stayed to myself, which of course caused controversy among many of the guards, they started calling me Mr. Big Shot. Another thing I hated about them, was these fucking guards were always collecting for someone’s birthday or some other shit, and most of the time the person that they were collecting for was always black, they didn’t like that I refused to kick in.

After about a year of putting up with these retarded fucking guards something amazing happened to me that would change my life.

One night after working a 3 to 11 shift, I was driving around Chambersburg (the once Italian section of the city) looking for an open pizza place when all of a sudden this guy came running out of an alley and ran into my car. He was being chased by these three psychos with baseball bats. I unlocked my door allowing him to get in and we took off with these tree assholes chasing us.

What the fuck was that all that about I asked? This guy was Hispanic and still shaken up, I figured him to be in his late 20s or thereabouts. He spoke broken English but apparently, he was seeing this Italian girl and her brother, and his friends didn’t like it, so they wanted to redecorate his face. I asked him where he would like me to drop him off, but he insisted that I have a drink with him. He brought me to Center Street to a Hispanic bar in South Trenton.

His name was Jose Diaz and originally he was from Colombia, we hit it off immediately, and he introduced me to so many people in the bar that I began to lose track of who was who. By 2am I was wiped, I hadn’t bought a drink all night, it was all on Jose and his family and friends. We shook hands, I gave him my pager number and I made my way out of the bar. Outside, one of his uncles stopped me and thanked me personally for helping his nephew, this is my bar, and you always have a home here, stop by anytime he said. I had a 7am shift in just a few hours I needed to get some sleep.

I didn’t think about Jose Diaz for a good week until I got a page from him, he wanted to meet. I was doing a 3pm to 11pm shift again and agreed to meet him at his uncle’s bar when I got off. I got to the bar at about 11:30pm, Jose had food waiting for me, all kinds of Hispanic food, I ate stuff that I couldn’t even pronounce, and I loved it. When we were finished eating Jose and I had a drink or two in his uncle’s office.

Soon our conversation turned to business and making money, it turns out that Jose wanted to go into the cocaine business and needed a partner to handle distribution. I told him about my feelings towards drugs and he completely understood, but he also explained that people were going to buy them, whether from us or someone else. I told him that I would sleep on it and that he would have my answer by the end of the week, I said good night, thanked his family for the magnificent food, and went home.

When I woke up I still didn’t know how I felt about selling drugs, working with the state police never influenced my decision one way or the other. To be frank, the state police treated the guards like shit unless you were related or a brown-nosing kiss-ass, but still, they had no respect for us, but to be fair many of the guards brought that feeling onto themselves because like I said many of them were fucking idiots.

After a few days of thinking about it, I decided to do, it fuck it! There were about five state employees that I was friendly with and who I semi-trusted, and they often discussed wanting to make money. So, I set up a meeting with Jose for later that week to discuss our new venture.

Although not connected to any of the cartels, Jose’s family has been in the cocaine business for a very long time but not selling it, just growing it back in Colombia. And because of this he could get a kilo of pure coke for 10,000 dollars, we were going to make a lot of money together. Jose and I spent the rest of that night setting up our price structure and developing a business plan. The best thing was, that this wasn’t going to cost me anything up front, and Jose and I would be partners and split everything right down the middle, he still felt that he owed me for saving his life.

I approached my five state workers, to be honest, I thought that it was going to be a harder sale, but all five agreed to it immediately. All five of these guys worked on the state house complex but in separate buildings, which worked out for me, I also always spoke to them one-on-one, and never with witnesses around.   

A little less than a month later Jose and I were cutting up a kilo of cocaine, dividing it into ounces, Jose was the supplier, and my job was distribution. Because we got the cocaine so cheap I decided not to cut it, my plan was to wholesale the C to the five state employees, if they chose to cut it that was up to them. If everything went ok Jose and I would be splitting a profit of 43,000 dollars per kilo.

I  gave one ounce each to my five state employees to sell, I wanted to see if I could trust them, and I wanted to see if they had any business sense. I advised each one of them to cut their Oz with one ounce of baking soda but no more, don’t get greedy. I didn’t care how they sold the coke, 8-balls, ten, twenty, dollar bags, I didn’t give a damn as long as they had $1500 each for me in one week.

Surprisingly, each state worker came through with flying colors, by week's end I had $7,500 in my hand. I gave each one another ounce to sell and split the money with Jose. In less than a month we sold the whole key, an added bonus, the five sellers had other people interested in selling also. I didn’t mind this, I just let them know that they were responsible for these other sellers and that I would only deal with the original five. Jose ordered another four kilos from his people in  Colombia.

For many reasons I decided to move out of Trenton, I got a beautiful condo in Evesham, NJ a small Southern New Jersey town about an hour from the city. Jose also bought himself a house in one of the townships outside of the city.

I finally bought a brand new car, but it was nothing fancy, but it was brand new, along with the car I also bought three new suits off the rack. I still don’t own any expensive jewelry. I tried really hard to just fit in and not be noticed by anyone. Instead of flashing my cash I preferred investing it, after a few months Jose and I bought a bar/restaurant in one of the townships near Trenton, we called it “Up’s” I know stupid fucking name, but Jose thought of it, right off the bat it started to make money so fuck it.

Ironically, the bar kind of turned into a cop hangout, and Jose turned out to be one hell of a cook. He worked in the restaurant so much it became his career, white people couldn’t get enough of “Up’s Hispanic cuisine, years later Jose was even featured in “Bon Appetit” magazine.

He and I together started buying real estate, at first shit-hole apartment buildings, we got them cheap. Jose had many family and friends who couldn’t work for one reason or another, but they knew roofing, carpentry, and landscaping. Later we bought a moving and storage company, but we also did estate cleanouts and sales, business was so good that we bought an old, abandoned supermarket and opened a huge thrift store, and money was pouring in.

Our drug business was running so smoothly that I gave everyone a yearly bonus. Actually, the only problems I had were with my fellow guards and some nasty, holier-than-thou, state troopers. Guards, mostly the females were constantly trying to jam me up, I hated fat women, I had no respect for them at all. So, a small group of these big bitches filed sexual harassment charges against me whenever they could get away with it, although nothing ever came of it. And as for the state troopers they were just difficult to get along with, out of the 60 assigned to the “State House Complex” I got along with maybe three. The problem was I didn’t jump up or fear them like many of the guards did, they just couldn’t relate to me, nor I to them.

My next investment was a deli right next to the State House complex, state workers, including the guards, were some of the fattest people I knew so it turned out to be an excellent investment, our sandwiches were huge. A friend of mine liked breaking into wholesale food businesses, he did this because most of the merchandise sold very quick and that meant no evidence, so I bought my meats from him at a huge discount.

By this time a couple of more years passed and I was seriously thinking about retiring while things were good. I was still in the state house complex then one day I was working with a trooper (one that I liked) when we saw this short state police sergeant get out of the car like he was some sort of black king. The trooper said to me that he knew this guy and that he was no fucking good. He also went on to say that this asshole tried to file a discrimination complaint against a black cop who gave him a traffic ticket.

This black sergeant got sent to the state house complex because he was becoming a liability on the highways, they knew that this little asshole was unstable, but they did nothing about it. The first thing this little nut job sergeant did was to go around to the different guard posts and harass the white guards. Several guards filed complaints against him, but the state police did nothing to him.

One day while working a post I said “shit” out loud, no one was around except another guard (a black one) and a young female state worker. It was no big deal until the black guard ratted me out to this little nut job sergeant, then he of course made it a big deal.

From then on this little asshole sergeant found fault in everything I did and kept giving me PN’s (performance notice) for petty shit like chewing gum while on duty or answering my cell phone. Here I was selling pounds of cocaine right under his fucking nose and I get written up for this stupid shit. Jose bless his soul, wanted him hit, he had some people who would be happy to do it, but I told him no, killing a cop even this little monkey would be bad for business. To this day I regret my no decision, we should have had him killed.

It was time to leave, I decided to quit my lame-ass state job after eighteen years, I sat down with Jose and told him my plans about getting out, surprisingly he agreed. By now Jose and I owned the restaurant, the moving company/thrift store, the deli, and several dozen apartment buildings. Jose and I were still going to be partners just not in the drug business. For all the petty shit this little black bastard sergeant went through to get me it never dawned on him to look where I lived, although I still own my condo (I rent it out) I bought a home in a gated community in Evesham, NJ in the neighborhood of $600.000, and paid cash. No way in hell could someone on a guard's salary afford that, but this ignorant little fuck never even checked, I even bought a brand new Cadillac Escalade, although I still drove my older car to work every day.

I always stayed in the shadows, but this little monkey sergeant was making that impossible, every day I was in and out of our captain’s office because this little asshole wrote me up for the silliest of things. So, one day I filed for stress leave, I had a doctor that I was friendly with, and he signed the necessary paperwork. There, of course, was nothing wrong with me, I just had to get my affairs in order, this was in October, and I already knew that I wasn’t coming back, so on my last day as a New Jersey state security guard I drove my Cadillac Escalade to work, I heard later that the little black bastard's mouth hung open when he saw my SUV but there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do.

I told my dealers goodbye and good luck I was done. From October to the end of December I collected worker's compensation and just relaxed. The whole time I was gone that little prick sergeant kept adding charges on me, I just sat back and laughed.

On January 2 two days before I was scheduled to return to work I faxed the state police my resignation and never looked back. Three years later when my pension kicked in I sold all of my businesses and properties to Jose, we are still best of friends, and he visits me often.

Eight years after I retired I sold my condo, and my Evesham home, I’m living at the Jersey shore now working out and enjoying my retirement with a net worth of well over 3.5 million dollars, not bad for a lazy high school dropout who many thought would go nowhere.

And as for that sergeant, they forced that little black bastard to retire, who knows maybe with some luck lighting will hit that little prick!

The end  

 That nut from lunch

By Chanuga Rollins

 

I’ve dated a lot of women in the past but remember very few by name, it’s probably because I was a serial dater, back then I had no desire to have a steady girlfriend because I never saw a point in it because I liked variety.

Although I forgot the girl's name I’ll never forget the incident, so let’s just call her Diane. There used to be a great hot dog place around the corner from where I just started working. I think it was called “Billy Goes,” at the time they made the best hot dogs, I only heard about the place because the guys from work kept bragging about it.

So, one day a co-worker and I went there for a couple of hot dogs and that’s when I first saw her, not only was she friendly but also cute with a terrific body. When she took my order I felt a connection, spooky how that works sometimes, but I didn’t ask her out at that point. I guess I was trying to be cool, or I didn’t want to appear desperate who the hell knows.

But after a few times of going to “Billy Goes” for lunch and a lot of flirting, I finally asked her out for the upcoming Friday.

It was a long week but tonight was my big night with the hottie from “Billy Goes,” I confirmed our date earlier that day, so all systems were a go. I selected a pair of underwear with skulls on them just in case the night got interesting, I had no idea what was ahead.

The summer evening wasn’t too bad, it was late August, but the evening was cool, unusual in New Jersey. I arrived at her apartment at eight sharp, she was sitting with an older group of women, one of whom turned out to be her mother. Diane introduced me to everyone sitting around her stoop before bringing me into her apartment. There sitting on the couch playing with a doll was her daughter, a surprise, I didn’t know that she had a kid, nor did she mention it. I guess she was around 10, she was nice and very polite, the only thing was I couldn’t stand kids, but I let it go. Diane grabbed her purse and kissed her daughter goodbye and told her to listen to her grandmother as we left.

Diane looked amazing, she truly was an attractive woman, my plans were to go and get a nice dinner then get a few drinks at a local nightclub, a simple night. At “Billy Goes” I couldn’t shut this girl up, she was laughing at my jokes, and now she was being quiet, too quiet and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

We got to the restaurant and instead of searching for a parking space, I let the valet take my car. We walked into the restaurant, and the place was packed, glad I made reservations, we got to sit down right away. On our way to our table, I could swear that Diane barked like a dog, what the fuck I thought, but then I thought that maybe she was just playing around. At our table, she looked weird, confused, and sort of out of it… I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, so I asked her if she was alright or would she like to go someplace else. But she said that she was ok with staying here

I ordered a bottle of wine, and when it got to our table she said that she only drank blood from the vein. I was confused, but I didn’t really have an answer for that other than ok. I asked her how her day was, and she looked at me with a bizarre look in her eye and said I had to eat his toe off. I just stared at her, and then I said who’s toe? As I looked at the menu she again started to bark a couple of times, you ok I asked her. I’m fine, but then in a low voice, she said, at least I think she said, I want to stick this in your heart, she was fondling a butter knife.

What the fuck was up with this woman I thought, not quite understanding what was going on here. That’s when I slid that bottle of wine closer to me, I was going to use it as a club if need be. Then she got normal again, asking me questions about my future, where I went to school, and where I lived, I lied about that, but I still felt uneasy.

When the waiter came to take our order, she asked him if he’d ever been bitten in his waiter’s uniform. He just stared at me and asked if she was going to bite him? Let’s hope not, was all that I could think of to say. Then Diane started to feel my crouch under the table, then she said out loud can I suck your dick. When other people turned to look I said that she was just kidding around, and a couple of guys eating dinner gave me the thumbs up.

But now I was concerned, this was not funny, then she got normal again, and of course, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu an $80 lobster, a la carte.

I never in my life saw someone eat a lobster the way that she ate hers, tearing at it like an animal, slurping, chewing loudly, she had lobster all over her face, on the table, on the floor, even in her hair. Most of the diners were staring at us.

After watching her eat I lost my appetite and couldn’t finish my dinner, this crazy bitch even ordered dessert, and when the cheesecake came she began to play with it. When I said that I didn’t want any she began flinging it with her fork at me and other people trying to have dinner. Finally, the waiter came over with the check and said that the maître wanted us to leave before this got out of hand.

I paid our bill and got her up to leave, on the way out she started talking in a demonic voice, I’m going to come back and kill everyone in here. I hurried her to the car and got the hell out of there before someone called the cops, in the car Diane was acting normal once again. She was laughing and making jokes and once again rubbing my crouch, to say that I was confused would be an understatement. I never dealt with shit like this before, I did however ask her if she wanted to get a drink. Yes, absolutely she answered back, where she wanted to know, I told her and she was good with that, I’ve never been there she said. I know I should have brought her home, but little head was thinking for the big head.     

I was well known at this nightclub in fact a very good friend of mine was a partner in it, so we parked in the lot, and she started to act weird again. She wanted me to have sex with her right in the car, I wasn’t against it, especially since I just dropped over a hundred bucks on her.

The parking lot was filled with people milling around smoking cigarettes, and pot, so I didn’t feel comfortable having sex in the car. I asked if she preferred going to a motel instead of the club but she said no, she needed a drink.

I paid the cover charge, and we took seats at the bar, I ordered drinks, and then she started to stare making me uneasy, you ok I asked. Who the fuck are you she said, did they send you here, she wanted to know what agency I was with… Agency, what the fuck are you talking about I asked?

Then she started going through her purse, and she said, it’s in here you cock sucker, and you’ll never do that again, for a split second I took my eyes off of her as I felt something cold press against my temple, die Satan die then a click.

The bartender and two other patrons subdued Diane, in her hand was a 25-caliber pistol this crazy bitch just tried to kill me. I talked the bartender out of calling the police, but Diane was escorted out of the bar, from what I’ve been told they put her in a cab and warned her not to come back!

 When things calmed down we inspected the gun, it was fully loaded but the firing pin was missing preventing it from going off, lucky me.

I never personally saw Diane again, according to a few of my co-workers she never again showed up at her job.

About a year later I got into a conversation with the owner of “Billy Goes” he was selling the place, but he did tell me that Diane was in a mental facility.

The end  

The lady in the coffin

By Chanuga Rollins

Three days before Halloween two friends and I were heading home from an evening of prowling the streets, at 14 years old I had a nine-o-clock curfew, and it was already half past eight.   

On our way home we had to pass Hornet’s Funeral Parlor, the funeral home was a mansion built in the late 1800s. As we were passing the funeral parlor we could hear screams coming from inside. Next, we saw a rush of people climbing over one another trying to get out of the funeral home, they were even climbing out of the ground-floor windows.

Next came the police, a few ambulances, and a fire truck… With the ongoing chaos, the guys and I started conversing with one of the men who ran out of the funeral parlor. This man told us that the deceased was an old woman and that she sat up in the coffin, we couldn’t believe what this guy was telling us. He also mentioned that an elderly woman was kneeling when the deceased moved.

Weeks later I read in the newspapers that Hornet’s Funeral home was being sued for negligence and a few other things, that old woman who was kneeling when the deceased moved died, she had a massive heart attack and died at the scene.

The end  

  

 Working the night shift

By Chanuga Rollins

 

Just weeks after 9-11 I got a job as a state security guard in New Jersey, the job gave me a chance to go to school during the day, sleep a few hours, then go to work and do my 11pm to 7am shift. To say that the job was easy is an understatement. I couldn’t believe that it paid almost $30.000 a year for doing pretty much nothing other than study for school, there was one hitch.

The part of the state house where I worked was called the Annex, it was dark, creepy, and definitely haunted. All but one or two emergency lights per floor were shut off on the night shift, we had a small light at the desk but that was pretty much it. On my second night on the job I came in about forty-five minutes early because I had to fill out a bunch of forms, which turned out to just need my signature, it only took ten minutes. So, I figured I’d let the guard that I was relieving go home a little early, instead, he stuck around for a while and told me a little about the Annex.

He told me that in the late 1990s, the Annex was completely renovated and that right away weird things started happening. Up until 9-11 and the renovations, no guards were assigned to the Annex. The first night with a guard in the Annex it was reported that a huge roll of keys was heard clanking in the Annex, elevators going up and down on their own even though they’re not supposed to do that, voices were reported, and so on.  

Since I got the job I’ve heard the keys, I’ve seen shadow people, and the elevators really do go up and down on they’re own, sometimes you could hear footsteps getting on and off, but no one is there.

But what was most jarring happened about a month after started this job. The Capitol Police are in charge of the security guards, they do the hiring and firing, and they are also the ones who check on us and are responsible for our safety.

One night I came on duty just like normal, and the guard I relieved told me that the ghost with the keys was really acting up tonight on his shift, we both just laughed, and he went home. About two hours into my shift a Capitol Police officer came around to check on me. He asked me if everything was quiet, and I said that it was, then he asked if the building was empty, and I once again said that it was.

When I come on duty it’s the 11 to 7 guards responsibility to make sure that the building is empty of all employees. Employees who stay late have been known to die at their desks from time to time, it’s not all that uncommon, so now it’s a rule that all employees must be gone by midnight.

So, this Capitol cop decides to walk through the building I guess to kill some time the night shift could be boring, the Annex has eight floors so a thorough search should take you twenty minutes or so. Our guards know the building much better than the Capitol Police do, I could do it in ten minutes including checking the restrooms.

The officer gets on the elevator and takes it up to the 8^th floor, and I return to my homework. Ten minutes later the elevator goes to the 7^th floor, which is unusual. Other than the restrooms the offices are one big open room it shouldn’t take ten minutes to check. Several minutes later the elevator goes to the 6^th floor, the Capitol cop was on that floor for well over 15 minutes, and I knew something was wrong. I was just getting up to jump on the elevator and go up to the 6^th floor when it started coming down.

When the doors to the elevator opened I’ll never forget the look on that officer's face, it was pure fear. As soon as he walked out of the elevator he asked if I was sure that we were the only ones in the building, absolutely I checked all eight floors myself when I came on duty at 11pm, and at 11 the lights were still on in the building until the cleaning crew is finished. By 11:20 they shut them all off.

With a perplexed and frightened look on his face he told me the following: The minute he stepped off the elevator on the 8^th floor he heard a huge roll of keys, then growling and several voices, next came a hard punch in the back, then kicking, something also knocked his hat off of his head. He said something kept trying to take his gun and at the same time kept slapping him in the face, the scariest part was shining his flashlight around the hallways and not seeing anyone. On the 6^th floor, something actually tackled him, that’s when he had enough and jumped back on the elevator and came back to the lobby.

I had to get the Capitol cop some water he was so shaken up, that before he left my post he asked me to not tell anybody what happened here tonight, it’s a secret I kept for twenty-five years until now.

The end