My own true love, Kelly and I had rented a little one bedroom house in a small cowboy/biker town up in the foothills outside of San Diego. Since it was being gentrified we wouldn’t be there long before the yuppies would drive up the prices and force us out, but for now it was great. Our shack is only four blocks from the center of town but its surrounded on two sides by open fields, on one of the other sides is a Caltrans yard. Our only real neighbor was a Hell’s Angel couple who never bothered us because they were way too busy partying with all their friends.
Across the street from them was a meth lab operated by some other bikers, and next to them is one of the towns two banks. There’s a few other houses scattered around here and there with an assortment of outlaws and rednecks living in them, but all in all, it’s pretty peaceful around here.
So peaceful in fact, that even though we were in town I decided to grow some marihoochie right in my own backyard. There’s a small old board shed that I tore the roof off of and replaced with plastic corrugated translucent sheets. I then rotortilled and fertilized the ground inside and planted the crop. Within a few months we had all the pot we could smoke, we wouldn’t have to buy any the whole time here. Since it was grown inside it wasn’t the greatest. But hey, it was plenty good enough for us and our friends, who of course, we shared with but never told them where it came from.
“Where’d ya get the grass in the middle of summer when it’s so dry now?” they’d ask.
We’d answer, “Oh, we bought enough last winter to last us.”
After we moved out we turned the house over to a friend of ours and I showed him the grow room. He of course told all his friends and never did harvest a mature crop before it was ripped off. We were there for almost two years and never had any problem.
Since it was an outlaw town there were always a lot of all different kind of cops around but they mostly hassled the bikers and left the cowboys and hippies alone. About the only excitement we ever had while living there involved the cops but thankfully not us.
The first incident was when the cops busted the meth lab. It had been producing crank for about a year before it got found out. The cops came en mass, County Sheriff, CHP, DEA and an assortment of other unmarked vehicles. They busted in the door one day just before sundown, hauled the few folks that were there out in handcuffs then called the HAZMAT team to clean up the mess. The moon suits closed off the street and were there all night taking away all of those vile chemicals and collecting a lot of overtime. We didn’t do speed anymore so the closing of the lab didn’t bother us a bit. The bikers were a little saddened to see it go but had no problem finding a new source and were back partying on cringe within a week.
The other incident involved not only the cops but the bomb squad too. One morning bright and early I was awakened by a lot of sirens so I got up and looked out our living room window. There at the bank was a whole shitload of cop cars, paramedics and fire trucks with a lot of frantic activity. The cops were taping off the street, the firemen were crawling around the parking lot and of course, the paramedics were just standing around waiting for something bad to happen. I got dressed and went outside to see the show better. After awhile the cops and firemen joined the paramedics and they all seemed to relax. They broke out the coffee and stood around discussing the situation. I sauntered over to them and asked the haps. At first they were annoyed that there was this hippie bothering them while they were busy doing police work but I told them that I lived right across the street and wanted to know what this was all about.
They told me that as the bank manager came to work this morning he saw on the back steps a large cardboard box. He though he’d better call the police before he looked inside or moved it, after all it might be a bomb. So they had come over to check it out and since it might be a bomb, after careful deliberation had called the bomb squad. I asked them how long the street would be closed. The cop told me he had no idea but it would be at least a couple of hours. Now would I please return to my home as this was “Official Police Business” and I would just be in their way. I went back to my house leaving the cops to their official business i.e., drinking coffee, bullshitting with each other and keeping away the curious.
About half an hour later the TV and newspaper reporters showed up with their news vans and the place became a real circus so I went back out to join the fun. Shortly after bomb squad arrived up and got all dressed up in their armor. First, one of them belly crawled up to the box with some kind of sniffing device that was supposed to smell explosives. He crawled back and gave his report, Negative.
Next, the guy belly crawled again to the box this time with a small portable X-ray machine to X-ray the box. After a few minutes he crawled back and reported, Negative. The device could not clearly identify anything in the box. For the next hour different guys crawled to the box and back and they all reported, Negative. They just couldn’t get a clear picture of what was in the box. After another hour of discussing the possibilities and what they should do, they decided just to be safe that they would blow up the box and it’s contents, if any. The cops went around the crowd and told everyone to get back and warned everybody of the impending explosion then we were all told to stay back or we would be arrested.
The bomb guy crawled to the box and placed the explosive then wrapped the box in a big thick blanket. He crawled back and gave the thumbs up. The cops, the firemen, the paramedics and the bomb squad all sounded off their sirens for a good thirty seconds, then KA-BOOM! They waited another ten minutes or so just to be safe then the bomb guy slowly crawled to the box and unwrapped the blanket. He carefully opened the box, peered inside and saw... DEAD KITTENS!
Oh no, what a tragedy!
But wait, one of the kittens is moving. The bomb guy grabs the kitten and rushes it over to the paramedics where they heroically save it’s life. The reporters have all flocked around the paramedic and the kitten. What a heart warming sight! This will make the 5 o’clock news for sure. After they are sure the kitten will live they want an interview from the head cop. The head cop tells the reporters how proud he is of not only his men but of all the dedicated professionals who participated here today blah, blah, blah…
I can’t believe it, the reporters are eating it up. Those brave boys in blue have just blown up a box of vicious and dangerous kittens and not only is everybody congratulating them but they’re blaming the whole mess on the heartless bastard who left a box of kittens on the bank steps. I go up to one of the bomb guys and ask, “Why didn’t you just look inside the box since all the reports about explosives being in the box were negative?”
He looks at me like I’m the stupidest person on earth saying, “We couldn’t endanger any of our lives just to see what’s in a box. This was standard operating procedure.”
I say, “But you blew up kittens.”
He just shakes his head at my ignorance and walks away from me.
Well, it did make the news. It was the feel good story of the day. Why, the bomb guy who blew the kittens up even took the live one home and named it Lucky.