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 had been helping out a buddy of mine that was running a frozen food company near downtown Charleston as a favor as well as for some money to buy important shit like beer, food, and at this point in my life, Camel Lights. I arrived there at 7 in the morning which if you know me is REALLY fucking early. When my time comes at least I’ll be able to tell me my maker that I was at least loyal to my friends. I walk into the warehouse looking for BaldMuscles. I find him and he gave me a tour of the whole place before he had me load most of the food that was going into the box truck from this HUGE freezer. Seriously the freezer took up a quarter of the warehouse and the warehouse was every bit of 20,000 square feet. After I got the truck loaded BaldMuscles gave me the keys to the truck and the list of where everything was being delivered to. All of the places were East of the Cooper, i.e Mt. Pleasant, Isle of Palms, and Awendaw. I figured I would have this knocked out real quick.
What I didn’t account for is how long it would take to unload all this shit. Lets just say I started at my deliveries at 8 that morning and didn’t get finished till 6 and that’s because I screwed up on some of the deliveries. When I got back to the warehouse BaldMuscle’s brother was complaining one delivery not being completed and him having to take it in his car. I didn’t even care at that point. I just wanted my money so I could get the hell out of there. During the day CadetDouche was asking for me to cover for him at SushiBar and I told him in nicest way I could (considering me, it was much nicer than you think) that there was no way in hell I could bounce after having worked like a dog all day. In hindsight I wish I had just bitten the bullet and worked.
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.
Disclaimer: The following entails decisions I made while severely drunk which is no excuse for bad decisions, but that’s what I’m going with. Not only did I drive while drunk which was stupid (my 2nd dumbest decision of the night), but I talked shit about the owner of DiveBar to his best friend (no matter how much it was justified) and I ended up taking this psycho bitch home to her place and having unprotected sex with her without even knowing her that well (THE dumbest decision of the night, in more ways than one, in case you need that one spelled out) and this chick was almost twice my age at this point, and she was UGLY. All I can say is the intercourse was consensual and the following court case was thrown out in a preliminary hearing due to a lack of evidence on her part even thought we had more than sufficient evidence to prove that she was lying. Don’t bother doing a background check on me as the entire case has been expunged from my record. The whole point of the following is to show that even though a woman may consent to intercourse at the time, she can always change her mind and if you don’t have good legal representation your nuts WILL be in a sling.
I started shooting the shit with JennConnell and we started getting flirty real fucking fast. In between our make out sessions and we were basically going beer for beer and shot for shot. NO matter how much I would drink she would keep up; she was a pro. Not only was she pro in the drinking department, but she was also a pro in the “eye fucking department”. I felt like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate. This bitch was trying seduce me like how I imagine black woman try to seduce Denzel Washington. By the time the bar was closing she had her tongue far enough down my throat that she could have told me what I had for dinner. We stayed there after hours and that’s when I pissed off SteelersFan. The subject of the beef between the owner of DiveBar, DBOwner, and myself came up. I don’t know if it was the my Blood Alcohol Content, the anger I had towards DBowner, or a combination of the two (it sure as Hell wasn’t narcissism as I was a much nicer person back then), but basically when asked how I felt about DBOwner my response was pretty simple.
Frank: (drunkenly slurring) “He’s a pussy.”
Frank: “Do you want to go up to your place?”JennConnell: “Nah”
We kept making out some more which was highly confusing. She was giving me all the clear signs that she was down to fuck but she didn’t want go up to her apartment.
Frank: “So, what do you want to do?”
JennConnell: (bats me a seductive look and starts taking off her pants)
Frank: “Right here?”
JennConnell: (Nods her head approvingly as she continues to take off her clothes)
1 Month Later (I See The Shit Storm on The Horizon)….
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.
Frank: (with a confused look) “What are you talking about?”
I seriously felt my heart drop into my stomach and didn’t know what to think. I was at a loss for words. I knew the sex I had with her was consensual. I know when a girl says stop it means to stop. I know when a girl is too drunk and incapable of consenting to sexual intercourse which I have NEVER taken advantage of. And NONE of those things happened with me and JennConnell. How the fuck could she be making that accusation. It suddenly made sense as to how my 94’ Jeep Grand Cherokee (I seriously felt bad for that car as it went through more punishment than Diego Sanchez’s face has) had its passenger side mirror ripped off of it. I had been parking it in front of DiveBar when I was heading to work at SushiBar and she had been going around lying to all her friends about to all her friends who happened to be all the regulars and employees. Want to guess what happens when a lying slut cries wolf? The people that believe her go hunting for said wolf. The only problem was the falsely accused wolf in this case (yours truly) happened to hold a purple belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and had already garnered a reputation around town as someone to not be fucked with. They couldn’t hurt me so they took it out on my Jeep and reputation around town. For the following month I had people coming up to me asking about it and I told them all the same thing, the truth. We got drunk, we had consensual sex, and that was it.
The thing about Charleston is that even though it has a big city feel to it, in all reality it is a very small town and word gets around quick. If you lived down town you would know everybody from around there in approximately three months. The other things is, especially with the food and beverage scene, it’s like a fucking high school. Everybody wants to gossip and talk shit without having any facts (yes technically I realize my writing is basically talking shit except for the fact it is all based on facts and the truth to the best of my knowledge) and just like in high school it can ruin people’s lives and make them do some pretty crazy shit, especially when the rumors are cruel and based on lies. I seriously had been considering walking into DiveBar with a Louisville Slugger and pulling a Robert DeNiro from the Untouchables on who I thought were the guilty parties. The only reason I didn’t do that is because of PapaFrank kept me calm and raised me to not be that kind of person.
A month went by, the questions about JennConnell’s accusations stopped. I figured that the shit storm had blown ever and I could stop worrying about it. I forgot the saying, “It’s always calmest before the storm.” Especially shit storms based off of lies and whore logic. I was at work at SushiBar and some middle aged jerk off that looked like he took fashion tips from Nick Nolte was going around the bar pinching girls’ asses and creeping them the fuck out. I went to tell him he had to leave and he tried ignoring me and walking off. I went to grab his arm to give him a hint and he decided to swing on me which if you have read my other stories isn’t exactly a bright idea. I slipped the punch and put him in a rear naked choke and he was out like a light. After that I walked up to the bar, got me a beer (yes, I was on the clock), downed half of it, and walked outside to have a cigarette. That’s when I got a phone call from Junior:
Junior: “Frank there is a cop here with a warrant for your arrest?”
Junior: “I’m not fucking kidding, there’s a cop from the city here for you right now.”
Junior: “One about some girl saying that you raped her.”
YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. This stupid fucking lying cum bucket cunt-whore-bitch went to the cops and not only lied to them, but also commited perjury to a judge, and signed an affidavit (the cops wouldn’t sign it, because they didn’t even believe her), which executed said warrant for my arrest. I was being charged with 3rd Degree Sexual Misconduct which in layman’s terms is date rape. This is the charge that has been amended to rape laws in the past 20 years because of creeps (guidos, frat boys, Russians and Armenians) slipping GHB (the date rape drug) into girl’s drinks and/or getting them so drunk that they can’t consciously make a decision on whether or not to consent to sexual intercourse. I’m all in favor of this law, mainly due to the fact that I’ve had to witness the aftermath of women being got slipped GHB and were lucky enough to get out of the situation before some douchbag tried to take advantage of them, and had to call them a cab or a friend to make sure they got home safe. Shit, one of my friends HairDresser got slipped GHB once by someone that we think we knew (not going to name him because nobody had proof of it) and almost died due to an allergic reaction from it. Yet here I am dealing with Junior freaking out on the phone and PapaFrank explaining to the cop how he is not going to tell him where I am because, the cop’s weren’t going to take me into jail for the weekend so that I couldn’t get “railroaded” and have them try to make me confess to something I didn’t do. From what I heard the cop was pretty pissed off about it but had no legal recourse to force PapaFrank into coughing me up. Plus, we are from Jersey and everyone there knows that you don’t rat, especially on your blood. He told the cop that I would be there to turn myself in Monday morning with a lawyer present.
I spent the rest of the night at work seriously hoping that I’d have an aneurysm or something. I was seriously fucking scared. I had seen Shawshank Redemption enough times to know that an innocent man can go to jail just because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time and what was the wrong time for me? Apparently, it was being in a stairwell with some 40 year old whore that seduced me, took advantage of me and then proceeds to lie to her friends as well as the cops to save face about having sex with me because her friends would think less of her for it. I knew one thing, I wasn’t going to jail for something I didn’t do and crawling 500 yards threw a sewage pipe to escape to freedom (told you I saw the movie) wasn’t going to happen. I’d flee to Mexico before dealing with THAT kind of bullshit. I eventually got out of work, told Brett what was up and he told me “well played” on the whole “choking out the creeper” thing earlier and I went home. I was seriously mortified, I kept thinking about how I would have to ward off being gang raped in the shower if this shit actually went to trial and a jury would actually believe her. This fucking sucked.
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…..
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…
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.
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.