The Camelot Equation IV

My dreams were crumbling. In my short 16 years I had seen enough mayhem to last 3 cursed lifetimes. My mind raced with vivid technicolor fantasies involving various methods of killing the good doctor (and his rat wife) a hundred different ways. It would have been so simple. Yet, despite my strange ease in actually committing whichever murderous act I finally decided upon, I became strangely "focused" toward a different end instead. I had an interesting challenge. Which would it be? I could rob a bank, burglarize a mansion, kidnap the richest person I could find, steal cars or hold up a store. I quickly developed what I thought was this "win-win" plan (hilarious, eh?) my desperate little brain somehow thought would make everything right. A plan using only the resources I had on hand. A plan where no one got hurt, and I totally win. Well, in my Freshman and Sophomore years I'd taken part in a couple of dramas and acquired a fundamental knowledge of make up. Wigs and spirit gum. Hair and makeup. Methods to simulate change to your physical gait and alter your actual size. (All these talents would come in handy later in life) But with only a stupid pellet gun that resembled a .45 cal. automatic, holding up anything but a store was suicide. This became the only viable option provided there was enough loot taken to pay my debt. So I did.

It took 3 days of surveillance before I knew exactly which cashier was vulnerable enough at my target store. A small vegetable market with lots of neighborhood room to run on foot, and only half-a-mile from my house with plenty of side streets. A younger woman always closed it alone and it never occurred to me she may have a real gun for protection hidden underneath the counter. At zero hour two days before I was scheduled to leave for boot camp, I donned a wig, a fake mustache, beard and deceptive clothing and waded through the glaring dogs on my way out the front door. That half-mile walk to commit my first crime (yeah, theres more) was the weirdest of my life. Every step I took seemed incredibly loud as I could hear (and feel) each molecule of gravel crush beneath me. It was dark out, yet I could somehow see through the entwined jumble of blowing trees or wooded areas with such clarity it was like having super powers. Birds and insect sounds hundreds of yards away were deafening.

The only customer she had was leaving the lot in their car as I timed my entrance into the store. "May I help you?" the woman asked. I lifted my shirt exposing the handle to the fake gun and told her to put all her money in a bag or I would kill her where she stood. Without hesitation (as though she'd been through this a million times) with one hand the cash register came flying open while the other reached under the counter and produced (thank God) only a bag. With amazing dexterity she put everything she had in it. Cash, checks, food stamps. You name it. I grabbed the bag and ordered her down on the floor. She dropped so fast and hard I think I heard one of her ribs crack. Only 30 seconds had elapsed. I thought this would take longer. For some reason I just stood there looking around the store relishing the moment. Suddenly it became clear to me that I owned this place in under thirty seconds. It was mine to do anything I desired. The feeling of power was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. "Are you gone yet?" came her muffled voice as she lay nervous and scared. I suddenly snapped out of my fantasy. "Stay there for three minutes and you'll be okay" I answered. I turned and left the little market following my escape route precisely.

After returning to dog house I immediately went out back and burned all the disguise stuff. As the fire developed I poured out and separated currency from paper burning anything other than actual money. In the end, I had $901.00 in cash. Enough to pay the "good doctor" and give my brother and sister each fifty cents for a lunch roll at school the next day. I had won.

Within 24 hours i had paid off the doctor, said my goodbyes and waited patiently outside for the recruiters van to pick me up. In moments a representative of the finest fighting force in the world was going to pick me up in front of the nightmare dog house I wouldn't see again for several months. I remember staring at the outside of the house. Curtains drawn tightly shut and pinned together so outsiders couldn't see in. You could actually smell it from the street if the wind was right. The van finally came loaded with others who were also on their way to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island, South Carolina. As I climbed in I could hear the dogs erupt in yet another frenzy over the noise caused by the slamming of the van door. Everyone in the van stopped chattering and just stared in the direction of my house. As the van pulled away the frenzy faded. Only I knew what was going on in their right now. The route he took followed the very same path I walked towards the little vegetable market. As the tires droned against the asphalt I relived the events of earlier that week. The van stopped at a light within 50 feet of the market and I could only stare at it. As the light changed and we slowly passed by I began to cry. I was overcome with a combination of relief, fear, remorse and hatred. One of the idiots in the van hatefully said "Whats the matter boy, you miss your mama already?" while giggling under his breath. If he only knew. I cannot help but wonder to this day how or why I didn't get shot or arrested that night. I came to find out later God, and some missing kids, (And oh yeah, the Marine Corps) had a very different plan for me. A huge plan. A pretty cool plan.

SPECIAL NOTE TO MY READERS: I doesn't look as though this is the right venue for me to publish this kind of story. Unless readership levels increase or more people show an interest in my continuing this true story, I shall probably discontinue further submissions of this epic. If you want me to continue on, please make it known. I am submitting this chapter IV on Tuesday, March 4, 2008. Thank you all so much - Martacus