Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Dysfunctional Everything Part Two
On Friday, when I came back from work, Julian has a big surprise for me and shows me a lot of money. He uses all the green bills like a fan to blow air on his face.
“Where did you get that money?” Before he answered, I knew he would come out with an incredible story.
“Bank robbery,” he answers. And begins to tell me about it. “I went to this bank, I think it’s called Bank of the Sierra, on Mooney Blvd.
I gave a note to one of the tellers, but she couldn’t understand it, because I wrote it in Spanish, so I called a Mexican looking guy waiting in line to come and translate it. Then she gave me all this money, almost seven thousand dollars. So I gave three hundred dollars to the guy and left.”
“What did the note say?” I asked him in complete disbelief.
Then he gives me the crumpled note, “Este es un robo dame todo tu dinero o exploto toda la dinamita que traigo alrededor de mi cuerpo bajo mi ropa.” [translation] This is a robbery give me all your money or I’ll explode all the dynamite that I have around my body under my clothing.
“You crazy mother fucker!” We need to do something right away.” I say, as I put my hand on my forehead and sighed in desperation. After lecturing him, (surely in vain) I made him wear a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap. I gave him another T-shirt. I burned the note and threw the T-shirt he was wearing to the trash and took him to the barbershop. When the barber is done, Julian looks in the mirror and says, “I like it, I like it.” Now he is completely bald and unrecognizable, but still handsome.
At work, I ask the trash collector driver if he can find a job for my cousin Julian, and he says, “Yes, they need another driver”. When I say that Julian doesn’t have a driver’s license, he says, “no problem, neither do I,” and when I say that Julian doesn’t have any papers or work permit he says, “no problem, neither do I.”
Another thing I like about Julian is that he likes to save money, he never spends more than what he makes. He told me that half the money he ‘collected’ from the bank is mine, there’s no use saying no, I know he’d get mad if I refuse.
While having breakfast at Denny’s and reading the paper, I come across an article about a black homeless man, who was run over by a vehicle, it says, ‘hit and run’. Also there’s an article about the shooting in my building and the killing of my neighbor. And next to it, a picture of the ‘killer’ (his friend). There’s another picture of the detectives receiving a medal from the Mayor, for their excellent investigation, leading to his arrest.
Finally, another article about the bank robbery, and a blurry picture of Julian taken from the surveillance cameras, it mentions that they arrested one of the robbers.
I noticed an elegant woman from another table staring at us. She must be in her early forties; she still looks like a good candidate for sex. She finally approaches our table and without asking for our permission joins us and says to Julian, “I know you. I know it’s you, even without hair I know it’s you.”
“Excuse me lady, what are you talking about? What do you want from us? I’m sure you’re mistaken,” I say to her, without having the slightest idea of what’s going on.
“My friend doesn’t even speak English.”
“I knew I was right! I just knew it,”
Then she gets closer to me and says, with her index finger straight up against her mouth and nose, and with a much lower voice, “Shhh, don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything to anybody, but this guy just robbed my bank last week.” And she continues, “I’m the manager of that bank. I want to make a deal with you guys. I need you to rob the bank again, but this time there’s more money involved, 25000.00 dollars.” Then she grabs the newspaper, points to Julian’s picture and says, “That’s him” and takes her pointing finger towards my cousin.
“Okay, let’s say for a moment you’re right,” I say, knowing there’s no use denying it, “What’s your proposition?”
“Okay, here’s the deal, I have a gambling habit, okay? I go to gamble to casinos and play with other people’s money, our costumer’s money. I go to the Palace in Lemoore all the time, I’m in deep shit. I know the bank will find out I'm swindling money and they’ll get me eventually, but I keep going, thinking I can win my money back, but I keep losing and losing. I swear that if I get even I would quit for good.
So my plan is this . . . you come and rob my bank, I’ll make sure everything goes smooth and easy, I tell you what time to go, what teller to go to. I’ll make sure she has 25000.00 dollars ready for you. You just come with your little note, but this time must be written in English, I’ll just report a higher amount, and we both win. By the way my name is Linda, and I don’t need to know your names.” She’s definitely a smart woman. I agree and she asks for my number and says she’ll call me next Thursday. I then translate everything to Julian and he gets real enthusiastic and happy about it.
Julian bought a car and began to work last week. The waste management company is in Dinuba. They work around an agricultural and rural area. I know he’ll be okay. He’s worked in so many different jobs, he keeps learning so much stuff. At this point, I bet he can even apply to NASA for an astronaut job. Anything is better than Julian passing notes to bank tellers, saying he wants to blow up their banks.
On Thursday, Linda calls me, “Okay, everything is set for tomorrow at 5:55 P.M., make sure you are our last costumers. I’ll be working the cash register number four, don’t worry about anything. Everything will be fast and easy,” then she adds, “after that, we won’t get in touch for a few weeks. I’ll call you later.”
On Friday, we showed up dressed as city workers with brown boots, yellow helmets, yellow safety jackets and dark sunglasses. We’re carrying double heavy duty black plastic bags, half full with light trash, mostly newspapers. We left the car half a block away from the bank. Julian seems unaffected for what we’re about to do. I’m a little nervous, but I don’t show it.
She was right, piece of cake, in and out in two minutes. We just gave her the note and she gave us a small, white canvas bag. This must be the easiest bank robbery ever.
Next day, on my lunch break I decided to go to Carl’s Jr. and order a Super Star with cheese, (with no onions, please!) I also decided to have a beer, so I take my hamburger to the Green Olive, ask for a beer to Bobbie, the bar tender. (If she were twenty pounds lighter, she’d be a knock out) I take my sweet time and enjoy my lunch. When I’m heading back to work, on my way out I see a patrol car passing by. The cop makes a U turn and follows me, turns his lights on and pulls me over.
“Driver’s license and registration, please.” he says. He’s a big guy, a white man with a bald head. He must be around forty years old, I’m not worried at all, I know I’m fine. He goes to his patrol car checks my record and after a few minutes, he comes back.
“Are you drunk?”
“No!” I reply.
“Well, I just saw you coming out of that bar. I know you weren’t drinking milk, so I’m going to ask you again, are you . . .
“I just told you! I’m not drunk!” I replied. Right away, I noticed I made a huge mistake . . . you never interrupt a cop, should never and must never interrupt a cop. If you don’t want to end up in jail.
“Step out of the car, mother fucker, I think you’re drunk.” he orders me. Now I know he is insanely pissed off.
“Officer I just told you, I’m not drunk. I only had one beer with my hamburger!”
“Shut the fuck up mother fucker, you’re going to be drunk in fifteen minutes.” he says, while handcuffing and pushing me to the back of his cruiser. Then he drives me behind a Sears store right next to a boarded up warehouse with a deserted parking lot. He parks his patrol car, goes to his trunk and comes back with a bottle of whiskey, and says, “Drink it, you piece of shit, or I’ll kick the shit out of you,” he says, while putting his baton against my head. I know I lost this battle, so I obey him and start drinking.
This is what a rape must feel like. I enjoy drinking, but not when I’m being forced.
Then he says, “Look all around you, not a soul in sight to save you.” Then he goes to the driver’s seat and gets a CD from his glove compartment and Freddy Mercury starts singing out loud . . . thum, thum, thum, another one bites the dust, another one bites the dust, and another one gone and another one gone . . .
I used to love this song, now I’m going to hate it forever.
When Julian comes to bail me out next day, I told him the whole story. He just says, “maaddaa faackaa, we need to find this maadda faackaa,” and adds, “We’ll get him ‘primo’, I swear, we’ll get him.”
The following day, amazingly enough we find the stupid cop on the front page of the newspaper, being honored by some ladies from MADD. (Mothers Against Drunk Drivers) The Visalia chapter is giving him a medal for most drunk drivers arrested in the Tulare County. I feel my blood boiling and speeding inside my veins, his name is all over the place. Good. There’s also another article in the paper: “Another bank robbery, this time they escaped with 175,000.00 dollars.” Oh, Linda you’re such a smart woman.
When we got home, I found the cop’s address on the internet. You don’t need to be a genius to find anything or anyone on the internet. I got you fucker!
Part three will appear next week. Don’t miss it.