Tucker Max would say his worst girl he ever fucked was a
gelatinous NSA spy with a body that he described as having “pear-shape of her
body was so pronounced she looked like a nesting doll made of owl
pellets.” If that was MY worst girl I’d
be sitting pretty. No, the worst girl I ever fucked nearly ruined my fucking
life. I’m not talking about the usual fear factors, i.e. relationships, salmon
fucking (“girl is so fucking fat that she has to piss to see how far it goes
upstream” –Brett Baskin), or an STD (HIV/AIDS, Herpes, Chlamydia, Gonorrhea,
Syphilis, Child Support). If only I could be that lucky. This woman took pretty
much a year of my life and I can pretty much blame her for part of the
narcissism that I have acquired now that has a major part of my life. I guess
feeling like Tim Robbin’s from Shawshank Redemption will have that affect on
you.
I didn’t want to work that night but it dawned on me that I
had a Friday night free for once. I couldn’t let that go to waste. That would
be like Mel Gibson passing up on a Jew joke without any paparazzi around. I had
to seize the night. So I went downtown with the intent of getting drunk and
getting laid. I started out at WingBar and started downing shots like Ted
Kennedy in his prime. By the time I left WingBar I honestly couldn’t walk in a
straight line. I needed to go somewhere that had people that knew me, but I
couldn’t go to SushiBar since I told CadetDouche I couldn’t work. So I decided
to head to DiveBar even though I was technically having beef with the owner
(long story). I headed in there and made the dumbest decision of the whole
night (well third dumbest anyway) and ordered an Irish Car Bomb the second I
walked in. I downed this as I was sitting next to this older chick that was a
regular at DiveBar.
Frank: (drunkenly slurring) “He’s a pussy.”
Frank: “Do you want to go up to your place?”
JennConnell: “Nah”
JennConnell: (Nods her head approvingly as she continues to
take off her clothes)
I had been out drinking the whole night and decided to stop by DiveBar after hours for a night cap. I walked inside and sat at the bar which is when CrackerBlob sat at the bar and started giving me dirty looks which confused the shit out of me. He was looking at me like I took his mom out to a nice seafood dinner and didn’t call her back. He walks up to me and takes a seat next to me at the bar.
Occurred-September 2007
Junior: “One about some girl saying that you raped her.”
During the weekend PapaFrank went around town looking for a
lawyer to represent and defend me against me against these charges in order to
clear my name. He didn’t want to just get any run of the mill lawyer because
this shit was fucking serious. Even when you haven’t committed a crime the
stigma of an accusation never really leaves you. I haven’t cried many times in
my life but I spent a good portion of that weekend weeping like Nancy Kerrigan
post crow bar to the knee cap. Bar none one of the worst weekends of my life.
PapaFrank eventually found a lawyer he was happy with and she worked at (how
can I say this?) a very reputable law firm in the Charleston area. I was told
that, “If you shoot someone in the head in the middle of town and there are 100
witnesses, then this is the guy you want representing you.” So I figured a case
where no crime was committed would be a slam dunk for his law firm.
I started feeling better about it until Monday Morning came
around because that is when I was suppose to turn myself in. We called the
lawyer and went to met with her at her office and once we walked into her
office we realized 3 things very quickly:
1. She obviously
was very successful judging from all the diplomas and expensive looking shit in
her office
2. She was very
smart
3. Her
intelligence was only rivaled by her beauty. She was a solid 10.
I was sold, if it weren’t for the fact that she was helping
to clear my name, I more than likely would have asked her out. I told her
everything that happened and she of informed the police that we would turn
ourselves in a couple days later. Either way I was going to have to at least
spend a day in Leeds Hotel, but I did feel much better about the situation now.
It still fucking sucked that I would have to go to jail, but I took comfort in
the fact that the cops wouldn’t have free reign to fuck with me. I still had to
go Leeds Hotel though.
Frank Goes To Jail…..
Occurred-September 2007
Wednesday
morning came around and we agreed with the Charleston Police Department that I
would be turning myself in at 8am that morning. Translation: I had to get up
real fucking early, but not to go to work however, to go to jail (hopefully you
can understand the sarcasm from the context). I knew one thing, there was no
way in Hell I would be eating jail food. It was not going to fucking happen, I
was going to be like Reuben “Hurricane” Carter (played by Denzel Washington)
from The Hurricane, same guy that the Bob Dylan wrote the song was about. They
couldn’t take my freedom if I deprived them of the tools they tried to control
me with. In this case, jail food that some murderer on Death Row probably
jizzed in while on kitchen duty. No fucking way in hell I was eating that shit,
However, I do have a pretty high metabolism and I have to eat every few hours,
but I wasn’t going eating any jail food. So we stopped at Burger King and I ate
a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit with hash browns like it was my last meal.
In all reality my cholesterol clogging feast would be my
only meal for the day unless I got bailed out before the judge went home at 5,
which in my mind was only a distinct possibility. I was fucking going to jail.
This shit happens to frat boys, Mexicans, and African Americans that don’t have
college educations and/or have no athletic ability (Welcome to America), NOT
ME. Lo and behold however, I was on my way to having handcuffs slapped on my
wrists and hanging out in a jail cell with people that smelled like they were
pulled out of a crack whore’s tampon and run over twice. I had to be honest.
This shit was going to suck either way I cut it and I had to keep my wits about
me if I were to come out in one piece. I would be walking a tight rope with no
safety net. It didn’t matter that I knew how to defend myself because in prison
it’s all about the politics and who you know (and convicts can be pretty
fucking craft with shanks).
We arrived at the City of Charleston Police Headquarters on
Lockwood at 8am sharp with HotLawyer present. We all walked in, I told them who
I was and the same jerk off detective that wanted to take me in for the weekend
was there to slap the cuffs on me. Before he did that I gave PapaFrank a BIG
hug and then turned around to face the music. JerkoffDetective slapped the
cuffs on me and I was taken into the back. This was the beginning of a VERY
shitty day. A day, however that would prove what I’m made of.
I was brought into the back of where the holding cells were
but I would have some company that was about as entertaining Fran Drescher’s
voice. After only about five seconds I really wished they would have tasered
this douchebag so I wouldn’t have to deal with his bitching. Apparently he was
in for exposing himself at Hampton Park, whilst taking a whiz, and was now
stuck with me trying to proclaim his innocence. Just a heads up; when cops
arrest you and read you your rights, part of those rights ( the Miranda Rights)
reads, “ Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
They aren’t saying that just, because they heard it while jerking off to Cops
and Bad Boys II. They actually had to go to the police academy to learn shit.
Anytime when the cops have you in their possesion, it is in your best interest
to realize that anything you say can be recorded and to fuck your life up if
you are dumb enough to open your mouth to them. Just shut the fuck up. Apparently Mr. I’m Innocent Because I’m a
Black Guy never got that fucking memo. So, not only was I in cuffs, I also had
to deal with this jerk off bitching to me about it when I OBVIOUSLY had my own
problems to deal with.
Eventually a cop that worked at Leeds Hotel showed up to transport us
there. He changed out my handcuffs for a belt that had hand handcuffs attached
to it. I’m pretty sure only reason why he did this is so I wouldn’t be able to
choke said dumbass that still wouldn’t shut the fuck up while we took the 8
mile (fuck you Eminem this isn’t Detroit)
journey from the City of Charleston Police Department to the Leed’s Avenue Jail
(Charleston County Correctional Facility).
Once we got to Leeds we had to walk in and do all the usual
shit, i.e get searched for drugs or weapons (you’d think they would do this at
Lockwood for the sake of efficiency.) They also took my shoe laces which
confused me at first. I asked one of the guards why and he said it was in case
I had thoughts of suicide. Yea, apparently someone at some point in time got the
bright idea of hanging himself by his shoe laces and I guess succeeded at it.
So not only was I going to be in jail but I would also be in jail with loose
fitting shoes. Awesome. Once the guards got done searching me they took us into
the holding area and I was overtaken by this god awful aroma. It smelled like 3
week old urine. After taking a look around I realized that it WAS 3 week old
urine mixed in with that rancid fried chicken smell you get from bums since
they only shower like once a year.
I took a seat in one of the “cells” (they weren’t really
closed cells per say) and just kept to myself pretty much. From what I can tell
from most prison movies I have paid attention to the best way to not get fucked
with is to keep a low profile, interact when you have to, but if you can be
best remembered as a passing memory then the better your chances.. The holding
area wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be. In all the movies I saw, I
thought you would be locked in a cell with a bunch of other guys and you would
have to ask for a phone call and what not. I don’t know how it is in other
jails in the US, but in Leeds that wasn’t the case. You pretty much had free
will to walk from one cell to another. If you did it too much the guards would
start telling you to go back to your cell but for the most part they were
pretty laid back. It was still fucking jail, but it wasn’t like an episode of
Oz. I eventually got called up by the guards to have my finger prints taken. I
was expecting to have them hold my hand like I was a 5 year old and
individually run my fingers over a stamp pad. Instead, they had this computer
hooked up to this scanner and all I had to do was place my hand on it and my
finger prints showed up on the screen. If I weren’t in jail I probably would
have been asking about how it works but I knew it was best to just keep my
mouth shut.
Eventually lunch time came around and they started handing
out bag lunches. I was fucking shocked even though in hindsight I shouldn’t
have been. I guess I was expecting a plate of goo or something like they had in
The Matrix. What I got instead was a stale ass bologna and cheese sandwich,
some cookies, and a box juice of orange drink. I was pretty impressed, I still
wasn’t going to eat the shit on principle, but still not as bad as I thought. I
gave the sandwich and cookies to some bum that obviously LOVED prison food. I
couldn’t give it to him fast enough but in hindsight he probably eats out of a
trashcan on the streets so this was probably an upgrade for him. That’s how
fucked up our jail system is, it’s actually an upgrade for certain members of
society and guess who flips the bill? Taxpayers. Don’t you love how the
government works? I actually drank the orange drink (and fuck you). 4 hours
later……
One of the guards came to our cell and told us in it was
time for us to head upstairs. The guards lined us up and we walked out single
file. They walked us up stairs to this big wide open room that looked similar
to a high school cafeteria except lots of the guys looked way more psycho than
the lunch lady. Before we went in there the guards would hand us these heavy
wool blankets. Guard: “Don’t lose the
blankets or you can’t get out.”
I’m pretty sure he was bluffing but I wasn’t really
interested in finding out so I held on to that blanket like Paris Hilton keeps
her thumb up a Chihuahua’s ass. It was pretty boring in there and I basically
just waited until my bond hearing came up. I ended up shooting the shit with one
of the guards and we got on the subject of our liquor of choice and his was
151, the same as mine (I was lot more reckless back then). Eventually I got
called up along with 5 other guys and we walked right in front of the TV with a
camera on it. In Charleston County you don’t actually go to the courthouse for
bond hearings. Instead they do it on closed circuit televisions. The also have
it on picture in picture so you so you can see yourself on it. I honestly wish
I could have gotten a freeze from of the screen at that moment but this is what
the judge saw; 5 ghetto ass looking black dudes with me in the middle. I looked
like the ginger version of Pat Riley minus 30+ years or the NBA Championship
rings.
My turn eventually came up and I could see HotLawyer in the
court room stating our case and she cited me having no prior offenses plus the
fact that I had an application in waiting for the St. John’s Fire Department as
reasons as to why I should be given leniency on bail and the judge agreed
allowing me to sign myself out on my own recognizance’s. I signed myself out on
a PR Bond after being charged with a pretty major felony (and could be sentence
to 10 years in prison). I guess the judge didn’t buy JennConnell’s story
either. The guard told me to go back out to the big room and I’d be released in
a few hours which was a relief, I wanted my shoe laces back. As I was waiting I
started talking to this older black dude named Blue (I don’t know if that was
his real name or an alias) and he seemed like a pretty cool guy. He said he was
in there for minor possession for marijuana (seriously, why is that a crime?)
and he got a PR bond too. Around 5 o’clock the guards announce that they were
having sign ups for the shower. Yea you have to sign your name on a ledger to
take a shower at Leeds. I guess that way if you get raped in the shower it can
be documented? I was starting to get nervous. I didn’t exactly feel like
fighting of a gang raping. When me and Blue’s name got called I was more
relieved than a porn star getting a clean STD test.
The guards led me and Blue down to the guard’s desk where we
could get our belongings. All I had was my wallet with $10 in it. The fucked up
thing is they didn’t even give me the cash back but instead a check for $10.
This was bullshit. I actually had to go cash a fucking check for money I
already had (which obviously wasn’t much) and I was fucking hungry. I hadn’t
eaten since Burger King with PapaFrank earlier in the morning and the only
source of nutrition I had since then was that ghetto ass orange drink (double
pun I know). I also know there was a Checker’s down the road from the jail
which me and Blue walked to (with my shoe laces tied in finally). When we got
there I noticed a Check’n Cash place in the shopping mall behind the Checker’s
and I had to resist the urge to sprint towards it due to my stomach growling
like a paranoid bobcat on a bad acid trip. I walked into the check cashing
place, cashed my check and they actually charged me a fee on it. They charged a
fucking fee on a $10 check. I was too hungry to debate it, I took my $8.71,
went back over to Checker’s and ordered 2 double cheese burgers (one for me and
one for Blue). I would have eaten both but Blue had been in there all day too
and hadn’t eaten anything either (I’m an asshole, not a sociopath). I gave him
one of my burgers and he walked off on his merry way like a ghetto David
Carradine from Kung Fu. About 20 minutes later PapaFrank pulled up in his tow
truck with Chickie and I couldn’t have hopped in fast enough. On the way home I
ignored the urge to suck my thumb. I was so hoping that this shit would be over
with soon. Even though I didn’t get raped or anything, jail fucking sucked as
advertised. I don’t think a home cooked meal tasted as good as it did that
night.
The Preliminary Hearing…
Occurred-November 2007
I woke up on the morning of the hearing more nervous than a
Klan member getting air dropped into Somalia. This day was going to help
determine my future. It wasn’t some major exam where if I failed I’d have to
take another semester or an MMA fight where if I lost I could lick my wounds
and come back. This was my freedom I was fighting for. I was fighting to keep
my freedom and clear my name of a crime I didn’t commit brought by some 40 year
old cum bucket that wanted to lie and save face to her drinking buddies. I
hadn’t seen JennConnell since a couple weeks after we hooked up. I honestly
didn’t know how I was going to react. This fucking bitch was trying to ruin my
life and it was all based on her lies. I seriously could understand how
crucifixions use to be a form of capital punishment during ancient times.
I walked into the courtroom and took a seat next to
HotLawyer with PapaFrank and MamaSenior watching from where the jury would
usually sit if this were a jury trial. The only thing that sucks about a
preliminary hearing is that only the plaintiff is allowed to present their
evidence. A preliminary hearing is basically a litmus test for whether or not a
charge should even go to a jury trial. If it doesn’t go past that then the case
is dismissed and thrown out. If the charge seems to have merit then a trial
date is set and that’s when my butt hole would start puckering up more than it
already had been (I think Shawshank Redemption played through my head a
thousand times that day).
Finally JennConnell walked in and that’s when it hit how
fucking drunk I had been that night. She seriously looked like the beginnings
of an old lady that would be throwing cats at little kids in 20 years. She was
THAT ugly. If I were sober I wouldn’t have fucked that bitch with Lil’ Jon’s
dick and the Eastside Boyz pushing. Oh, and it got better. The prosecutor put her
on the stand and that’s when she made her claim as to why she THOUGHT I raped
her. Just like in the affidavit (which nearly had HotLawyer busting out in
laughter) she claimed that I was raping her while she was falling down the
stairs which would have been possible if it weren’t for a little thing called
“The Laws of Physics” most importantly; gravity. I would have had to have been
Keanu Reeves from The Matrix to have raped her in the manner she alleged and
described. She didn’t stop there either. She went on to allege that I had
herpes and that she had yelled stop which was complete bullshit (and for any of
my friends with benefits, or potential ones, that are reading, I’m disease free
and have been tested plenty of times). It seriously took everything I had to
not go into angry black woman mode and cuss her out in the courtroom, but that
would have been stupid and would have hurt our case which would have dragged
things out longer. After JennConnell got
finished with her bull shit laden rant it was HotLawyer’s turn. HotLawyer:
“Your Honor, we would like to move for dismissal due to a lack of evidence.”
I was fucking shocked, in hindsight I shouldn’t have been,
but at the time that seemed like the boldest fucking thing she could say. I
guess there is a reason why we have the saying, “fortune favors the bold”. On
this day it was definitely favoring HotLawyer which in turn favored me (never
mind blowing out JennConnell’s bullshit story which had more holes in it than a
Tijuana Police car on the wrong end of a Juarez Cartel’s Hit Squad). HotLawyer
knew exactly what she was doing. The judge took one look at the prosecutor:
Judge: “So let me get this straight. You have dragged this gentleman (that
would be me) into this courtroom on these charges with no evidence whatsoever.”
Prosecutor: “Well your Honor, it’s not about the evidence.” (Yea, a fucking
lawyer said that in court) Judge: (looking over at me then back at the
prosecutor) “Case Dismissed” I really had wished there was a thunderstorm
outside right at that moment so I could have ran outside, ripped my shirt off,
got on my knees, and held my arms out wide while I looked at the sky and do my
best Tim Robbins impersonation. I was relieved, I still had to get this shit
expunged off my record, but I was hopping for joy.
The justice system actually works (in my case at least).
There’s a lot of bullshit and red tape to go through, but I was found innocent
(LIKE I FUCKING WAS) and could move on with my life. We kept talking about
going after JennConnell and suing her defamation of character, but that never
came to fruition mostly due to the fact the she probably didn’t have any money
(kind hard to when all of it has gone to supporting her drinking problem) and
all we could get was a judgment against her. Plus the damages I withstood
taught me a valuable lesson. Whore logic is a very dangerous thing especially
when mixed with mass amounts of alcohol, slutty incontinence, self
consciousness, and of course a shit load of fucking dishonesty. I can’t say JennConnell’s
real name, but watch out for a 40+ year old woman that will always be sitting
in the corner of a dive bar by herself with no friends around. She will most
like eye fuck you if you look approximately half her age and will come off as
more desperate than Whitney Houston looking for an 8 ball. Under no
circumstances should you mix alcohol and conversation with her as it will lead
to being $14,000 in the hole and shit load of drama at your expense. You have
been warned.
Addendum
Occurred-August 2008
The morning after HotTeacher found out about TattooedCougar
I was coming down the stairs trying to get her to chill the fuck out when I got
a call from HotLawyer. HotLawyer: “Hey Frank its [HotLawyer], I just got done
talking with the Solicitor and everything has officially been expunged and
removed from your record.”
Frank: (feeling fucking relieved) “Thank you so much
[HotLawyer].”
HotLawyer is part of the reason of why when people ask me if I
hate or disrespect women I can honestly say no. She honestly believed in my
case and didn’t pass judgment on me before getting to the bottom of things and
we discovered, thanks to her and the private investigator that she hired, about
how devious JennConnell really was. We had a sworn statement from a cook at
DiveBar that gave JennConnell a ride home from the bar 3 nights after she
alleged that I raped her. TheChef stated that upon dropping off her off JennConnell
made a request.
JennConnell: “I want you to fuck me like Frank did.”
Yea, what a bitch.
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