This is NOT Over

Tuesday Jan 2, 1990 My Story to Stick To

I’ve got to get out of town before things get any more serious with Ronnie. He’s got this idea in his head about what he wants to do in DeKalb and I’ve got to get that idea out of his head…or at least I need to make him forget about the part that includes me. I’m not like him. He only cares about action. He only cares about things he can see, steal, shoot, smoke or fuck. He thinks he is some kind of business man. Maybe he is, but that’s not me. On my best day I’m relatively alert and paying attention to one or two things that might be worthwhile. I’m not smart or snakey enough to stay operational and do the things Ronnie wants to do in this life. Call me chickenshit. Call me a pussy. Call me a liar who is writing this to throw people off the trail. Call me what you will. This is my story and I’m sticking to it.

I think I can pawn off this task on our friend Danny. Danny thinks he’s going to write books. He’s going to want experiences like this. That’s how it should go for Danny. If he survives working with the bad guys, even the sorry-ass wanna be bad guys and their machinations then he should get to write about all this junk. Not me. I write two minute little dinka-dinka tunes. I don’t want to be Ronnie’s guy in DeKalb. I don’t need any experience that goes along with that shit. I don’t want to be there when he or one of his “cousins” gets pissed off at some college fuck or local farm kid who thinks he is some sort of man. I don’t want to be there if some transaction in the parking lot of the Candelight goes wrong and Ronnie decides that he is going to turn DeKalb into the Guns of the Navarrone. Fuck that.

Ok, I’ve never seen that guy point a gun at anything that walked on two legs but I don’t want to be around if there is ever a first time.

I'm the guy who goes along on a hunting trip and never shoots anything. I'm on the fucking glasses or something. I'll shoot a soccer ball, hanging out in the back yard but I won't shoot an actual living thing. Capice?

Oh for chrissakes listen to how dumb I sound. Ronnie must be an idiot if he thinks he can count on me to get anything right.

He won't have to. I quit before I even start. If he doesn't like it, fuck Ronnie.

There’s also a part of me that thinks ‘Ronnie is all talk and he won’t even come out to DeKalb’ and I am just being a paranoid fuck. That is probably the most sensible part of me, if there is one.