Take The Money And - "MothaFucka!"

Get me outta here!

At last! At very, very long last I was on the road to freedom. It had been a lifetime in coming - and how sweet it was! The angst of the world was no longer mine to carry. From now on, my decisions would be my own, the idiots of the world had lost their say. Look in the sky! That's the sun I see! I've never had this feeling before: a day that belongs to me. Amazing and exhilarating. Parts of me long given up for dead were alive with optimistic energy. A new word entered my vocabulary: "possibilities".

Everything felt good. My hands on the steering wheel. The vibrations of traveling down the highway. Hell, nothing could feel bad at this moment. I had possibilities! At least, I did until I heard the news on the radio.

Harry Homeless is wanted for possession of cocaine. He is illegal, immoral and a destroyer of society. He is the enemy of all living persons. He has no known redeeming qualities. We have this quote from Officer Officer: "Find him! Kill him! He'll ruin it for everybody! Get that bastard before it's too late!"

"MothaFucka!"

They went on to describe my car in exact detail, me in exact detail and even the last known direction I was traveling. But how?? I retraced my steps since The Most Wonderful Moment Of My Life. Stashed many floors up in an old abandoned building I found a tire stuffed with $700,000 in cash. It was from a crime where the statute of limitations had run out so the money was free and clear. But still I knew: Mundo Nulla Fides - trust no one, have no faith in the world. So I told not a soul of my find.

Here's where I dumped the tire -
just in case somebody had it marked

I snipped the bands off the money - a possible means of identification - made sure no transponders or gimmicks were afoot, then transferred it all to a large lawn and leaf bag in the trunk of my car. This was one time where my secret life paid off, allowing me to do this with no eyes upon me. But on the radio the cops said they had tested the money, found traces of cocaine on it - which all money tests positive for - and thusly declared me in possession of cocaine. They said I had been dealing crack to 12-year-old girls. And that was a more comforting thought to the mindless masses than the idea of lying cops.

All my life I've made bad decisions. It's a disease, a habit, a known quantity, an old enemy - it's all I've known. There's nothing I fear more than a Good Decision - I don't know what would happen. But I do feel like God will zap me from the heavens with a lightening bolt if I make one. Death, it seems, comes regardless of my decisions. My head used to be able to at least hold the idea of a Good Decision - I could conceive of a sunny day - but before that day I found the money, the light had gone out from even the crack under the door to the outside world.

So I deduced the bonanza I found was reparations from God for a lifetime of suffering, living at the mercy of animals who declare themselves civil even as they cut your throat out. I swore I would make good this time, make only decisions that were smart and - shock, shock - in my own fucking best interests for once. No more trying to apply my life to fixing the world. No more allowing my crucifixion to prove the unholiness of the world. No more living for others. Time to claim my inheritance.

Always a piece missing

So what had I missed? Since the time my bad decisions started, I knew I'd be missing out on "real" life. And this Missing Element grew and grew, leaving me with the broken mind I have today, helpless and pathetic. But how did the cops know everything? Over and over and over I went through every possibility in my mind. No misstep had been made - not even the possibility of a false move existed. And yet still they knew everything!! It was that goddam Missing Element. I don't know how or where or when, but because I didn't know the Missing Element, I was fucked yet again.

I'd always been careful not to fight the law. In my mental rolodex, it's listed under the tab of Fatal Mistakes. I pulled over on the deserted highway - a treasured back road - and waited for the inevitable. The police had been smart giving the luntic lynchers a witch to burn. I could hear the Pitchfork Puritans in my head as I slumped down in my seat. "I have a daughter! He wants her strung out on drugs! I'll show you what a good father I am! I'll stab you to death!" My capture would be a heckuva day for law enforcement: an evil drug dealer taken off the streets, the world beats its chest in righteousness and most important of all (in reality): the cops get their hands on the money.

No way out. I was trapped. No way would the cops come clean at this point, in fact, they'd be more vicious just to prove the point of the "truth" they alleged. It meant the doom of their souls but I didn't hold out much hope for that argument. Life drained out of me as I stared at the now ugly steering wheel which just a few short minutes ago had been my guide to freedom. I peered through the windshield but the sky was no longer mine, the sun long gone. Some birds were singing in a clump of trees down the road. The last free sounds I'd ever hear.

Got a home now, Harry!

I heard but did not listen. The angry screeching tires, the hysterical lying voices laced with fear of discovery, the closed-minded judge who knew the facts before he knew, and the jury of my peers who sat with comfortably closed eyes who had only one word to say on their behalf: "Guilty". I remained silent knowing the truth was there for anyone who cared to see - but none thought it profitable. So now I spend my life on a hard metal bed, staring into the infinite abyss. And that's when it finally hit me - as I gave up all hope of anything and just let go - I finally saw the Missing Element.

"The Most Wonderful Moment Of My Life" should not have been when I found the money. It should have been when I found love.

"Mothafucka!" echoed my cell.