Disneyland, Incest, & Evil Gadgets

"Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man that he didn't already have." ---Dewey Bunnell

One must first wash out a brain of all of its basic contents, scatter and destabilize its root assumptions and systems of belief before a new set of assumptions can be planted in replace of the old ones. For an individual who is searching for a way already or who has had many painful memories, the experience can be quite euphoric being that along with their mind being "erased" so are their problems. The mind then, after being washed, becomes like a vacuum. Anything thrown its way will take because there is no belief system in the brain, therefore no counter-thought possible, to circumvent anything given it, to decide "no" to the new opinion. Something becomes better than nothing even if that something is not what the brainwashed individual would have originally chose...even the complete opposite of what they would have chose....even if its pain. Any game will take, if the only exception is the apathetic void of no game. One grain of salt in a pile of pepper will stand out and gain full attention and full focus, and what we focus on, even if its something we hate, becomes that much more real...that much more a determiner of the present reality.

All of us are/have been brainwashed to a certain degree by our parents, our schools, our government, the religion we were born into, the bombardment of billboards and television commercials, etc. These ideas cast upon us are no different than the ones given to us by systems such as Scientology, though we label such underdog belief systems as "cults" but if any of these same "cults" went mainstream we would label them as a "religion." The cleanse and plant that I went through was simply more obvious and rebellious and hare-brained enough for my liking. I was given the mind-washing of my style, I guess. My rejection of society's base institutions and idea cages such as Christianity, patriotism, capitolism, and other bullshitisms, left me snapping in an opposite direction and open game to the counter system of someone like M. The fact that my focus became entirely on my hatred of society's set of rules and regulations, instead of on my love of true freedom and happiness, had pushed me into becoming what I rejected, enslaved once again by a manipulative belief system of an outside "source."

Throughout the Winter in L.A., I continued to drive and play the role of security for M's escort service, Beverly Hills Entertainment, I believe he called it, a cheesy, stupid fucking name but M could care less. He would use what would work. He was a business man, not an artist, unless you consider a bullshit artist something aesthetic. He taught me the techniques of the game--how to control the girls, how to screen and manipulate potential clients, how to smell the false moves of competitors, and how to keep a step ahead of the authorities or anyone else who would try to throw a monkey wrench into our fine-tuned game. And he would keep his program tight by using the methods and crafts of his favorite modus operandi, Scientology. Things were running smooth for M. Waves of money flooded in frequently, with abundance and ease. Any effort put out was put out by me. M's game was locked in, locked in indeed...until she showed up.

Her name was Ruby. She was an uncommonly beautiful and exotic 18 year old, dark-skinned foreign girl, originally from the third world country of India, raised in Jamshedpur, a small city nearest to New Delhi. Approximately 5 or 6 years previous, Ruby and her younger brother, Sanjay, were taken away from their mother, kidnapped by their own biological father and brought to America. They were then abandoned by this father after a controlling and incestual relationship occured between him and Ruby which had eventually lead her to flee with her little brother, running away to finally contact the local authorities. In fear of imprisonment for child molestation, the father cowardly fled the country never to be found again, leaving his children to be sorted out by the civil powers that be. Ruby and Sanjay were then divided into separate foster homes, causing them to lose touch with even each other. Betrayal, control, abandonment, and isolation were their order of things.

Ruby came to me on an interview for M's escort service. She was no longer under the care of her foster home and needed money to live on her own. She was completely alone. Alone in Hollywood. Though she was pennyless and ripped apart from her past, the energy that came with her young age and the natural and relentless youthful thirst for experience had helped delude her pain. Amazingly, she was still hopeful yet not without damage. How could I not have felt sorry for her.

During our initial meeting, I had dropped any sexual agenda that I usually would have had common to nearly all of my previous interviews, especially with a girl as petite and as sexy as Ruby, and I had taken a position on a platform of pure and simple friendliness. What the hell came over me!? I thought. And even more ironically peculiar was her reaction to my kindness. I got completely no respect from her at all! Ruby's harsh beginnings had disabled her ability to trust any friendliness coming from a man and even if she did trust it she would see it as weakness instead of strength. She was very primal. Innocent, yet very primal and self-serving. With what happened to her, I suppose she had to be. I told M that my niceness did not go over well at the meeting and that I didn't think that she'd be back. He laughed but only before I showed him the photos that I had taken of Ruby. He was automatically impressed and immediately coached me into getting her back for a second interview.

I called her back and scolded Ruby on her answering machine telling her that she was late for her second interview and that I had too busy of a schedule to be fucking around with any bullshit. I also told her that she would have to be prompt and organized if she wanted to work for us and that if I didn't hear from her within a couple of hours, she might as well just forget the whole thing. There was, of course, no scheduled second interview. Ruby called within 10 minutes.

"You didn't tell me there was another interview," Ruby protested in a slight accent.

"Look, if you want this job you need to learn how to listen, so do you want to make money or not?"

"Well....yeah."

"Then come on back as soon as possible because tonight is Saturday night and I have a lot of appointments to take girls to. As a matter of fact, we don't even have enough girls, this evening, to fill all the calls if I don't get on it, so hurry up because I don't know how long I'll be here."

Ruby came over right away and the friendly guy I was to her before would not return for a very long time. I had pulled back some of the information I was beginning to give her about the specifics of the escort business after it occurred to me, through her responses, that she had no clue whatsoever about the nature of the industry. She must have looked at the classified ad for "girls needed to work for escort service" and looked in the dictionary to find the definition of "escort." Ruby had no clue about the sex, about the freaks, the chains, the whips, the whipcream, the "full" body massages, or what the words "lingerie modeling" really meant. She thought it was a scam for men to pay to court her where she would get paid to pretend she was interested in them. I guess, now that I think about it, she was somewhat correct.

Once again, I conferred with the ring leader. M and I agreed that we should keep Ruby in her state of seeing and hearing no evil and to use her ignorance as our benefit. She was the safety valve girl who would be booked out on police calls or potential police calls only. Vice would call the service trying to get a bust almost everyday. They were easy to spot over the phone and even if the caller would give us the slightest doubt, we would consider him po-po. Key words like, "do the girls do extras" or "please tell the girl to bring protection" (as in condoms), would give their game away. We knew they had accounts with Best Western and some other generic hotels, so that would give them away, as well. A house or other permanent residence was rarely a position vice would set up a sting at and, also, upscale hotels would not be used because the police department's budget simply couldn't afford them or wouldn't be willing to, at least back then, anyway. Once M felt it was vice or an informant calling, Ruby would be sent out. This happened nearly everyday.

Unlike other services who would avoid and reject the police once smelling them out, M made a lot of money off of accepting them. He used the Tai Chi way of yielding to and letting in the opponents energy and, in return, using this, their own energy, against them. In this situation, cops would try to get a bust by waiving money in front of us before getting us to agree to something illegal, but instead of running away we would accept their offer, hold our position of legitimacy and keep the cash. They would never ask for it back. The police would rather give up their money than blow their cover and we knew this. We would go home clean, leaving the police with less of a budget, a prodded ego, and a pissed off chief to explain themselves to. It also showed M's service was legit and fuck da police anyway. They should be stopping violent crimes where there is actually a victim instead of trying to bust a service where the only people involved consist of two consenting adults. If the system really wanted to eliminate the "evil pimp," then the whole thing should be made fucking legal! Though, I don't believe that's part of the plan. Makes too much goddamn sense--requires a bit too much free thought.

Ruby was put to work the next night after our second interview and she made herself and M a quick bundle. Me...well, I made a couple sheckles. She was his hottest girl and she hadn't a clue. In-between one of our runs, she told me more of her father, explaining how he actually went through a marriage ritual with her inside of their house, behind closed doors, of course. Their honeymoon consisted of Disneyland and incest while her younger brother, Sanjay, listened in the other room. Disneyland and incest. Hmm. I'm honestly not sure which one is worse. What a beautiful fucking world we live in. Again, I felt for her but any inkling of friendliness would warrant disrespect from her. I think now if I would have continued with my kindness, Ruby would have eventually seen it as the greater strength but, at the time, I wasn't strong enough to hold it and I was also playing a game--a game that had certain rules and guidelines.

I proceeded with my arrogant attitude and ended up sleeping with Ruby that same night. Yes, only sleeping--the next night we had sex. In a matter of 3 or 4 days after, she was living with me, at first against M's wishes but then, figuring it would be convenient for me to take her to any prompt appointments that would come up, I got his "okay." We lived only a few doors down from M but she was never around when I'd see him and he was never around when I'd see her. It was strange. In my mind, I had joked with myself, exercising the thought that Ruby and M were one and the same person, Ruby being his alter-ego that he would shapeshift into in order for him to spy on me.

Finally, After 2 or 3 weeks of her occupancy, we drove up next to M's vehicle after we had just finished a call as he was leaving the apartment complex. He was with his fabricated big-titted blond creation, Kelly, a likeable, quiet girl but completely owned and deindividualized by M. It was Ruby and M's first physical meeting (at least in this life). Upon M making eye contact with her, Ruby completely caved in! Her head sunk down and her shoulders sunk in. Without any communication, she felt his energy and was terrified of it. Later she told me his aura reminded her of her father's. She recognized his manipulative soul, a recognition that would eventually open my eyes to M and his puppetry.

Later that evening, I was taking out the garbage to put it in a dumpster that was located in a corner of the underground parking structure to the complex. Sitting next to the trash bin and propped up against it was a surreal and peculiar framed piece of art. It was a painting of a highly decorative Indian god having 3 arms attached to each side of its body. The god was not a male or female but a combination of both. It's body was a duplicate of Ruby's, having her same incredibly small waste, her same perfectly spherical tits, same skin tone, same everything. It's head looked unmistakably like M, with the cheesy go-tee and everything, but with an elephant nose and make-up as well. Upon staring at the painting a wave of cognition hit me and sent a chill up my spine. It wasn't quite a cerebral realization. It was more of an emotional one, a knowing but one I wasn't quite prepared to put into thought--one that was brewing yet not quite ready to surface at the moment. During the instance I was trying to pull it up, a shadowy figure materialized behind me. It was M!

"What the fuck you staring at? You look like a deer caught in the headlights, man!" M said laughing....always laughing. He walked around me in a half circle, keeping his eyes fixated upon mine while he did so.

"Oh, I was just taking out the garbage and I noticed this painting of...."

"Looks pretty wacked. I'll take it and put it up in my apartment," M interrupted. "Why don't you have any shoes on? What are you fucking Tarzan, motherfucker, hahaha!"

"I gotta go. I've got a few chores to do in the apartment," I said trying to get the hell away from him. He was creeping me out and his prescence was choking me. I was becoming faint and claustrophobic. I had no breathing room. At least my mind didn't.

"You see that bitch cave in? What was that all about. Tells me to watch her intention. Tells me she's guilt-ridden. It happens sometimes to people who look at me that aren't at cause. They cave in."

"Yea, I noticed she did that."

"Well, take it easy." M began to walk away as he kept speaking and just before he turned his face away from me, I caught a quick glimpse of his fake smile dropping down to a frown before seeing the back of his head. "I'll call you if something pops. Don't get your feet dirty, Tarzan." These last words were quiet and muffled as he faded out of the dull, yellow glare coming from the garage lights...but I still heard them. He wanted me to hear them that way, the cheesy, sinister fuck.

M was gloating but also trying to steer my attention off of something that concerned him. I continued to drive Ruby to her calls and they went as clean as usual, though not according to M. He said the customer complained of her being late so he fined Ruby $100. This wasn't uncommon behavior for M to make up a reason to fine his girls, not so much for the sake of making more money at the moment, but more so to keep the girls at bay and in check, ie to keep them at effect...to keep control. One late night (or early morning) about 4:00am, M left us a message even though he knew we had checked out at the agreed upon 3:00am. He fined Ruby another $100 for not returning his call. After suggesting that she didn't do anything wrong outside the agreement, M attacked me saying that I was weak and that I was acting like a typical male becoming addicted to and lead around by pussy. I argued a bit but backed down. M was afraid that my new live-in "pussy" was going to take his control over me away from him. I feel she had him pegged and he knew it and was afraid of his game being blown. They had a strange silent relationship, a past-existence feel to it if there is such a thing.

I was loyal to M, still. He continued to fine her but he noticed as he did so, it distanced himself from me even more. He assumed that I was like him and that I would act deceptive like he would if he was in my shoes, but he learned I was more gullible than he even realized. He pulled back the reigns of his punishment and called me over to his lair. M had the amazing power to switch emotional gears as quick as a thought could cross a synapse. His anger was extinguished when I entered the room which was full of affinity and joy. The sudden switch made me wonder if he was ever angry at all.

We sat down and talked about the usual shit, you know, like whores and bitches, Scientology, the apocalypse, dimensional travel, one of his clients who likes to eat shit, ghosts and entities, my depression and how to combat it, conspiracy theory.....you know. The usual. Then he brought out this contraption with buttons and buzzers and what not. It was a card counting machine, a computer that could be used to score on black jack in Vegas instead of counting cards in your head. It was a lazy card counter's dream machine. I was totally impressed by the accuracy of the mechanism and had never heard of such an instrument before even though it had been around for awhile. What the hell did I know. I was from Wisconsin for "cripes" sakes you know dere, hey.

We played a mock-up game of black jack in M's kitchen. As the cards were dealt, you would simply punch in the buttons or combination of buttons that would register and save whatever card you punched in. For instance, if a card was a five, you'd punch in buttons adding up to that number (I believe there were 4 buttons in which various combinations could add up to any number in the deck). Aces were ones, jacks, queens, and kings, of course, were tens. The small computing device that was attached to these buttons by wires would save the numbers put into it and compute the probability of the next card thrown communicating with its user via a vibrating buzzer type attachment that was also connected to the unit with wires. A long sustained buzz would mean it would be best to "stand" on the cards you had. A short buzz meant a "hit" would be beneficial. If the machine would vibrate in a series of 3 quick blips, it would mean to double your bet because your chances of winning were very high.

We added up the money I would've won and it averaged out to be about 5 or 6 hundred dollars most every time we played and we played for only a couple hours tops. I was sold on this motherfucker! Greed glistened in my eyes like tiny, polished micro-diamonds! Not only was the amount of cash and the pure rapaciousness of it all quite appealing, but the idea of ripping off Las Vegas, a place that fucks everyone in the ass on a daily basis, to give them a dose of their own medicine....I just couldn't pass it up. A chance to beat the system! Imagine. Upon seeing my exuberant attitude, M told me what the exuberant price of the machine was and after giving him every penny I saved and owing him more, I was off to Vegas to con my way into a bloody rich oblivion.

Ruby came along for my first trip. After paying for a cheap hotel, we headed to the mall to scavenge for some cheap, baggy pants with deep pockets to conceal my hand movements. The buttons on the machine were originally intended to be pushed with your toes but I found this impossible to do, so I altered the mechanism and strapped the button panel to the inside of my right leg, working it through a hole I had cut into my right pocket. I taped the actual computer device to my other leg. The vibrating buzzer was also supposed to be felt by the other foot but, again, I couldn't feel it so I put it in a clever spot that was highly delicate and intricately sensitive--under my nutsack. Ruby stood to my right to also shield my right hand and its slight jerking movements.

In theory, our plan was fool proof, unless, of course, it was a fool who had made the plan in the first place--a nervous, twitching, baggy pants wearing fool with a hottie bimbo sidekick. The whole thing became a circus act, me being the clown with his butt cheeks on fire looking for a bucket of water to set his charred and burned ass in. Counting the cards was impossible with more than 2 decks and even on the single deck tables the pit boss would either stare me down with bedeviling eyes of infliction or more cleverly, the casino would plant a hot girl next me, babbling to me while she would "inadvertantly" show me her giant tits as an ultimate distraction. The cameras above me did not make matters any better not to mention the signs at the door to the entrance of the casinos stating that electronic card counting machines will be confiscated and charges will be pressed. I thought this was a new fucking thing! Shit! I'd been had! The only conning done was the money M made off the fucking contraption that I was stupid enough to buy.

I went back to Vegas about 5 more times after my first outing with Ruby. I went alone but each time was the same. The fucking evil gadget would work excellent when I was at home but when I would put it to use in the casinos, it betrayed me, every mutha fuckin' time! It became a god damned, hellish nightmare...a bad version of the "Twilight Zone" but worse because it was actually happening to ME. All my money--gone! FUCK!! On my last trip leaving the devil's playground back to Los Feliz, I put the cursed apparatus in a shoe box and threw the motherfucker out of the window, to be forever lost in the desert until some lowly innocent fool stumbles across it, starting the whole evil, riddling scenario over again. Fuck selling it. I couldn't even give it away with a good conscience and I wanted it out of my sight and as far away from my physical body as possible. So, traveling at one hundred mph going south on I-15, I chucked it into the barren abyss of the Mohave desert. Fuck it! It's over. Back to Cali...back to Ruby...embarrassed and pissed as hell. To be fucking continued.

(L.A. and Vegas, Winter 1991 to late Spring 1991) . . . . . . aa

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