Chronicles of Genius and Idiocy
1
Masayoshiii
Gone
DISCLAIMER: The events of these Chronicles are a dramatic retelling of a true story. Character names have been altered slightly to protect their anonymity.
Prologue — Prebirth Problems:
“Where the hell…? My keys… where the hell are they?!”
An irate man shouted obscenities repeatedly at the top of his lungs as he tossed random objects back and forth carelessly. He ran around in circles in a mess of a house so many times over the past few hours that he could hardly remember what time or day it was.
He was in a hurry, but so much time had already passed while he looked for his keys that he would’ve been better off staying at home. Yet, he was driven by the intense desire to leave as soon as possible and the nagging feeling that his keys were just out of sight—he couldn’t let thoughts of finding his keys slip away or allow himself to relax.
After an inordinate amount of time throwing things around, his wife returned home.
“What the fuck are you doing?! You broke all the lamps!” The wife yelled.
“Shut up, Robbin. I need to find my keys!” The man angrily retorted.
“YOU ALREADY FOUND THEM, THEY’RE IN YOUR GODDAMN HAND!” The wife screeched at the top of her lungs.
The man stopped throwing things and looked down at his hands. The keys he’d been looking for had been in his hands the entire time, but he was so out of his mind that he failed to notice even after hours of constant searching.
“Ah…” The man mumbled, walking out the front door. He hopped on his Harley Davidsonâ„¢ motorcycle and turned the keys, starting the engine. As he was about to leave, at that moment he realized his life’s terrible mistake. He needed to quit doing drugs. After all, his wife was pregnant and he was going to be a father soon.
The life of a biker in the Iron Horsemen was a treacherous one, filled with deceit, shady dealings, and risky operations. At any time, he could become a felon—a wanted outlaw if he ran, and a branded criminal if he remained. At the same time, leaving a biker gang was no small task, and usually met with a lot of risk in itself.
So, he decided that he needed to talk to the leader of the Iron Horsemen—they were a long time friend of his, perhaps they could understand his predicament. He needed to break things off in a way that made it seem like he would still be an ally to the gang if he was desperately needed, but also remained away from their business unless called upon.
So, he rode to the bar that most of his gang partied at, where he was already expected to be hours ago. He showed up without wearing his biker leathers, which he kept in the saddlebags of his motorcycle this time. He walked into the bar and went straight to the pool table where his buddies were.
“Holy shit, Denny, you look high as a kite! Did you snort all that coke again?”
Denny nodded ashamedly, pointing to the bartender.
“One whiskey.”
An older man in his late 60s with a long beard walked up to Denny and slammed an entire bottle of whiskey on the pool table.
“Take mine and meet me in the back. You’re late.”
Denny nodded and grabbed the bottle, drinking a few gulps on his way to the back. The old man sat in a chair at the card table, which had a map and several marked spots on it. The first two areas of the map, marked 1 and 2, were already crossed out.
“What the hell kept you today? I know it wasn’t just the coke, you finish that shit in minutes.”
Denny frowned, pulling out his keys and tossing them on the table before he sat down and took another drink from the bottle of whiskey,
“I spent over 3 hours finding these keys. But they were in my left hand the entire time, and I didn’t find that out until my wife got home and screamed at me for it.”
The old man sighed, pulling out his checkbook.
“Denny, you’re cut loose.”
Denny looked up to the old man with surprise.
“What?”
“You’ve been a valuable asset to the family in the past, but lately you’ve gotten too deep into the drugs. I heard you even blew 100 grand on drinks for everyone over less than a month. You’re a danger, Denny. I’m making you a check, and then you get to leave.”
Denny slammed his fist on the table in frustration, wearing a determined expression.
“This isn’t how I wanted it to end! I was supposed to help you guys!”
The old man shook his head, wearing a complex expression that seemed to be a mixture of pride and disappointment.
“If it was the old you, I would have let this go without batting an eye. But, times are changing Denny. You have a wife now and a kid on the way soon—you’re failing at the biker’s life. Keep your jacket, though. Some day, you can tell your kids a good story of the past.”
Denny began to tear up. He was the most badass biker in the gang, he’d never cried even once, and beat the shit out of anyone who did. Yet, the boss had seen through everything—he’d seen his troubles, his life, and even the solution.
“Denny, don’t forget—we owe you a great debt, but we can’t repay you anymore. So, with this check I’m breaking you, we’ll call it even. Get off the drugs and raise your family, like a true man.”
Denny nodded, holding back the tears that welled up in his eyes. He held out his hand, and the old man shook it for the last time.
“I will never forget all you’ve done for me—you’ve been a true friend,” he proclaimed.
“As have you. We’ll never forget the things you did for us,” the old man replied with a smile.
Thus, the old man broke him a check for 20 grand, which Denny used as a down payment for an old house in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon. His life as a biker was over, but his troubles were only beginning...
Prologue — Prebirth Problems:
“Where the hell…? My keys… where the hell are they?!”
An irate man shouted obscenities repeatedly at the top of his lungs as he tossed random objects back and forth carelessly. He ran around in circles in a mess of a house so many times over the past few hours that he could hardly remember what time or day it was.
He was in a hurry, but so much time had already passed while he looked for his keys that he would’ve been better off staying at home. Yet, he was driven by the intense desire to leave as soon as possible and the nagging feeling that his keys were just out of sight—he couldn’t let thoughts of finding his keys slip away or allow himself to relax.
After an inordinate amount of time throwing things around, his wife returned home.
“What the fuck are you doing?! You broke all the lamps!” The wife yelled.
“Shut up, Robbin. I need to find my keys!” The man angrily retorted.
“YOU ALREADY FOUND THEM, THEY’RE IN YOUR GODDAMN HAND!” The wife screeched at the top of her lungs.
The man stopped throwing things and looked down at his hands. The keys he’d been looking for had been in his hands the entire time, but he was so out of his mind that he failed to notice even after hours of constant searching.
“Ah…” The man mumbled, walking out the front door. He hopped on his Harley Davidsonâ„¢ motorcycle and turned the keys, starting the engine. As he was about to leave, at that moment he realized his life’s terrible mistake. He needed to quit doing drugs. After all, his wife was pregnant and he was going to be a father soon.
The life of a biker in the Iron Horsemen was a treacherous one, filled with deceit, shady dealings, and risky operations. At any time, he could become a felon—a wanted outlaw if he ran, and a branded criminal if he remained. At the same time, leaving a biker gang was no small task, and usually met with a lot of risk in itself.
So, he decided that he needed to talk to the leader of the Iron Horsemen—they were a long time friend of his, perhaps they could understand his predicament. He needed to break things off in a way that made it seem like he would still be an ally to the gang if he was desperately needed, but also remained away from their business unless called upon.
So, he rode to the bar that most of his gang partied at, where he was already expected to be hours ago. He showed up without wearing his biker leathers, which he kept in the saddlebags of his motorcycle this time. He walked into the bar and went straight to the pool table where his buddies were.
“Holy shit, Denny, you look high as a kite! Did you snort all that coke again?”
Denny nodded ashamedly, pointing to the bartender.
“One whiskey.”
An older man in his late 60s with a long beard walked up to Denny and slammed an entire bottle of whiskey on the pool table.
“Take mine and meet me in the back. You’re late.”
Denny nodded and grabbed the bottle, drinking a few gulps on his way to the back. The old man sat in a chair at the card table, which had a map and several marked spots on it. The first two areas of the map, marked 1 and 2, were already crossed out.
“What the hell kept you today? I know it wasn’t just the coke, you finish that shit in minutes.”
Denny frowned, pulling out his keys and tossing them on the table before he sat down and took another drink from the bottle of whiskey,
“I spent over 3 hours finding these keys. But they were in my left hand the entire time, and I didn’t find that out until my wife got home and screamed at me for it.”
The old man sighed, pulling out his checkbook.
“Denny, you’re cut loose.”
Denny looked up to the old man with surprise.
“What?”
“You’ve been a valuable asset to the family in the past, but lately you’ve gotten too deep into the drugs. I heard you even blew 100 grand on drinks for everyone over less than a month. You’re a danger, Denny. I’m making you a check, and then you get to leave.”
Denny slammed his fist on the table in frustration, wearing a determined expression.
“This isn’t how I wanted it to end! I was supposed to help you guys!”
The old man shook his head, wearing a complex expression that seemed to be a mixture of pride and disappointment.
“If it was the old you, I would have let this go without batting an eye. But, times are changing Denny. You have a wife now and a kid on the way soon—you’re failing at the biker’s life. Keep your jacket, though. Some day, you can tell your kids a good story of the past.”
Denny began to tear up. He was the most badass biker in the gang, he’d never cried even once, and beat the shit out of anyone who did. Yet, the boss had seen through everything—he’d seen his troubles, his life, and even the solution.
“Denny, don’t forget—we owe you a great debt, but we can’t repay you anymore. So, with this check I’m breaking you, we’ll call it even. Get off the drugs and raise your family, like a true man.”
Denny nodded, holding back the tears that welled up in his eyes. He held out his hand, and the old man shook it for the last time.
“I will never forget all you’ve done for me—you’ve been a true friend,” he proclaimed.
“As have you. We’ll never forget the things you did for us,” the old man replied with a smile.
Thus, the old man broke him a check for 20 grand, which Denny used as a down payment for an old house in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon. His life as a biker was over, but his troubles were only beginning...
2
leonard267
FAKKU Non-Writer
That is the stuff of fantasy and science fiction. It should be a contest entry no matter how much you claim that it is based on true events.
2
Masayoshiii
Gone
leonard267 wrote...
That is the stuff of fantasy and science fiction.I really wish it was...
1
Masayoshiii
Gone
I decided to continue this story now, as I am making some fairly major changes to my life recently.
That being said, this is based off a true story, though dramatized and exaggerated at times for laughs and also excitement... I guess?
Chapter One - Custody is a Dry Business for Drug Addicts:
Marital Spat
Denny and Robbin eventually had a child together, and Denny was back to working in construction and maintenance. He had his own Maintenance company at the time, but he rarely had calls from customers, so he had to do work as a subcontractor most of the time.
Robbin, on the other hand, was still doing drugs, heroin and meth in particular. This troubled Denny greatly, and after a few years of uphill battles trying to get her to quit her addiction, he finally decided to take their family in a different direction.
"Robbin, I want a divorce. Sign these papers," Denny demanded, slamming a stack of divorce papers on their filthy kitchen table, littered with drugs.
"If we divorce, I'm taking Jimbo," Robbin threatened.
"Do NOT use our son as leverage in this conversation. If I really need to, I will take it to court,"
"Why are you doing this all of a sudden?"
"You haven't quit drugs for even a week since before Jimbo was born, how can I trust anything you say?"
"Do you still think I'm cheating on you? Is that what this is about?"
"Yes, I think you're cheating on me with that loser Joseppi. But this is about your drug problems, not him," Denny replied, throwing a gallon ziplock bag on the table. It was filled with meth from the bottom all the way to the seal.
"Did you know you left your meth out front for the whole world to see? Do you want DHS to come and take away our kid? Are you TRYING to get arrested?"
Robbin shook her head. "I don't know how that got there, it's not mine,"
"Don't play games with me, Robbin. We're through, sign these papers," Denny commanded, pushing the papers toward Robbin.
She clicked her tongue but began signing them anyway.
"You'll regret this, Denny,"
"No, I won't,"
Day of the Trial
A few months passed, and the divorce case was taken to court. However, there was a bit of an issue.
"The defendant, Robbin M. Jackson is absent to this case. As I see it--,"
Before the judge could finish, the doors flung open and a woman came rushing in, stopped by the security guard.
"Miss, you can NOT just barge in here. I need to escort you out," the guard stated.
"But, I'm the defendant of this case! At least let me take the stand in my own defense," the woman shouted.
The judge placed his hand over his face, rubbing his forehead in frustration. They slammed their wooden hammer on the pedestal, causing attention to turn to the judge instead.
"Alright, let her pass. She is the defendant in this case. If you make a similar outburst again, you will be held in contempt, Robbin M. Jackson. Do I make myself clear?" The judge replied.
"Yes, your grace-- I mean honor, yes, your honor," Robbin replied.
The guard looked at her with suspicion. "Your honor, with all due respect, it appears to me that the defendant is high on drugs. Is it even safe to let her come in here?"
The judge shook their head, and turned to the woman. "The defendant will need to pass a preliminary drug test to enter the courtroom. Have her submit a urine sample and test it immediately," the judge replied.
The woman glared at the judge angrily. "So what if I do meth, or heroin, do you think that automatically makes me a bad parent?! Who are you to judge me?"
The judge was not amused by this, and stood up, slamming their hammer on the table rather than the pedestal.
"Robbin M. Jackson, I hereby find you guilty of contempt in the courtroom. You are sentenced to 30 days, and your bail is set to 2,500 dollars. Case dismissed, judgment for the plaintiff in the full amount and the divorce conditions requested by them will be approved," the judge shouted. "You should have kept your mouth shut. Who am I to judge you? I am a judge, it's my job to judge you," they continued. "Get her out of my courtroom," they demanded.
The woman shrieked and shouted in unintelligible obscenities and gibberish, restrained by several guards as they dragged her out of the courtroom. At the end of the day, Denny won the case, received 100% custody with no visitation privileges for the mother, and the mother was ordered to pay the full amount of child support allowed by law.
However, they would not be seeing these child support payments, not now, not ever... but that is a story for another day.
That being said, this is based off a true story, though dramatized and exaggerated at times for laughs and also excitement... I guess?
Chapter One - Custody is a Dry Business for Drug Addicts:
Marital Spat
Denny and Robbin eventually had a child together, and Denny was back to working in construction and maintenance. He had his own Maintenance company at the time, but he rarely had calls from customers, so he had to do work as a subcontractor most of the time.
Robbin, on the other hand, was still doing drugs, heroin and meth in particular. This troubled Denny greatly, and after a few years of uphill battles trying to get her to quit her addiction, he finally decided to take their family in a different direction.
"Robbin, I want a divorce. Sign these papers," Denny demanded, slamming a stack of divorce papers on their filthy kitchen table, littered with drugs.
"If we divorce, I'm taking Jimbo," Robbin threatened.
"Do NOT use our son as leverage in this conversation. If I really need to, I will take it to court,"
"Why are you doing this all of a sudden?"
"You haven't quit drugs for even a week since before Jimbo was born, how can I trust anything you say?"
"Do you still think I'm cheating on you? Is that what this is about?"
"Yes, I think you're cheating on me with that loser Joseppi. But this is about your drug problems, not him," Denny replied, throwing a gallon ziplock bag on the table. It was filled with meth from the bottom all the way to the seal.
"Did you know you left your meth out front for the whole world to see? Do you want DHS to come and take away our kid? Are you TRYING to get arrested?"
Robbin shook her head. "I don't know how that got there, it's not mine,"
"Don't play games with me, Robbin. We're through, sign these papers," Denny commanded, pushing the papers toward Robbin.
She clicked her tongue but began signing them anyway.
"You'll regret this, Denny,"
"No, I won't,"
Day of the Trial
A few months passed, and the divorce case was taken to court. However, there was a bit of an issue.
"The defendant, Robbin M. Jackson is absent to this case. As I see it--,"
Before the judge could finish, the doors flung open and a woman came rushing in, stopped by the security guard.
"Miss, you can NOT just barge in here. I need to escort you out," the guard stated.
"But, I'm the defendant of this case! At least let me take the stand in my own defense," the woman shouted.
The judge placed his hand over his face, rubbing his forehead in frustration. They slammed their wooden hammer on the pedestal, causing attention to turn to the judge instead.
"Alright, let her pass. She is the defendant in this case. If you make a similar outburst again, you will be held in contempt, Robbin M. Jackson. Do I make myself clear?" The judge replied.
"Yes, your grace-- I mean honor, yes, your honor," Robbin replied.
The guard looked at her with suspicion. "Your honor, with all due respect, it appears to me that the defendant is high on drugs. Is it even safe to let her come in here?"
The judge shook their head, and turned to the woman. "The defendant will need to pass a preliminary drug test to enter the courtroom. Have her submit a urine sample and test it immediately," the judge replied.
The woman glared at the judge angrily. "So what if I do meth, or heroin, do you think that automatically makes me a bad parent?! Who are you to judge me?"
The judge was not amused by this, and stood up, slamming their hammer on the table rather than the pedestal.
"Robbin M. Jackson, I hereby find you guilty of contempt in the courtroom. You are sentenced to 30 days, and your bail is set to 2,500 dollars. Case dismissed, judgment for the plaintiff in the full amount and the divorce conditions requested by them will be approved," the judge shouted. "You should have kept your mouth shut. Who am I to judge you? I am a judge, it's my job to judge you," they continued. "Get her out of my courtroom," they demanded.
The woman shrieked and shouted in unintelligible obscenities and gibberish, restrained by several guards as they dragged her out of the courtroom. At the end of the day, Denny won the case, received 100% custody with no visitation privileges for the mother, and the mother was ordered to pay the full amount of child support allowed by law.
However, they would not be seeing these child support payments, not now, not ever... but that is a story for another day.