October 31, 2003
HALLOWEEN HILLBILLY JUSTICE
Well I wasn't going to guest blog this week because I didn't want the
True Believers Trolls to piss their panties like the last time, but it's Halloween, Acidman is in North Georgia while I'm stuck here in Jax with a couple of sweet Georgia-Florida tickets, and I have a horror story for you that takes place in those very North Georgia mountains.
Way back when, a friend and I skipped law classes on Halloween and left Atlanta for a Viewing of the Leaves. We headed northeast, and hit Helen and Brasstown Bald before jumping the border into North Carolina to get some cartons of cheap smokes in Murphy. Did I mention we were drinking? We were drinking. Heavily. Passing a bottle of Yukon Jack between us. Now I don't condone this sort of behavior, but my friend was a seasoned drinker and driver, and I was doing the lion's share of the drinking, anyway. I often do on these occasions.
After leaving Murphy we realized we weren't that far from Tennessee, so THAT had to be done. Then we headed back to Atlanta. We were passing through Ellijay about four o'clock, minding our manners and all the applicable laws, enjoying one of the most glorious autumn days I have ever witnessed, when the deputies pulled us over for the crime of Having Out Of County Plates. Chatham County, to be exact. A sin against nature in those parts. Apparently, the ONLY sin against nature in those parts.
If you've ever smelled Yukon Jack you know you can reek of that shit after walking by it in the liquor store. So they had their Boy, so to speak, and after jacking us up against the car, they took a few gratuitous swipes at my guy. Fortified as I was, I naturally came to his defense, fists a flying. Much pounding (on their part) later, I was hogtied in the back of a cruiser, headed to the hoosegow. The gaol. The Little Big House. Thrown in the drunk tank with some particularly unsavory fucks who had been beaten shitless by the White Man for who knows how many days, and God had answered their prayers by throwing two white punk asses right in with them.
I can be a persuasive talker when I have to be, even when in the bag, so there was no Brown-Eye Ballet that night, but it was nip and tuck for a while there. I thought I was going to have to sacrifice my buddy for the cause.
Did I mention I hadn't told my New Bride I was skipping class, much less going on a Joy Ride? Never mind. The Mayor came to visit us about eight, looking us over like trophy hogs. He looked just like Harry Truman. I told him as much, then explained my theory that Truman was a pindick who nuked Asians to make his pecker feel bigger. Then I demanded to know the judge's name. He said, quite simply, "Me". That's all. "Me". Ever have the feeling you've overextended yourself a little bit? Everybody got supper but me.
I finally got hold of another friend in Atlanta, and he and The Bride made the long trek up to Ellijay with copious amounts of Cash in Small Bills, we were sprung in the early AM, and followed to the edge of Gilmer County, where we were pulled over, bitched out, and promised eternal damnation and ass-rape should we ever cross that county line again.
I skipped my court date (disorderly conduct, public drunkenness, resisting arrest; they dropped assaulting an officer of the law because it was obvious who'd gotten the better of that little set-to) on advice of counsel. When you have a Decatur attorney with the first name of Casper, you heed his wisdom. Waited for skip tracers to track me down for two years.
About six years after this terrible misunderstanding the Sheriff, Mayor, and all the deputies got busted on federal RICO charges for shaking down semi-innocent punks like us, and they did Hard Time. But I still detoured around Gilmer County every time I'd go to the mountains. I finally checked my state police record last year. Clean. But I don't think I'll ever go to Ellijay again.
That's my Halloween story. No goblins, no ghosts, but aren't real live inbred mountain ghouls scarier anyway?
Posted by Guestblogger Velociman
by Gawd, you should flush those tickets, Velociman, and get your ass up to Dahlonega...
...ass-rape should we ever cross that county line again.
You know you want to come back !
I'll miss seeing you there !
Yukon Jack -- It'll do it every time. I know whereof I speak.
Two of my favorite things in one post, amazing! Yukon Jack and Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. An american classic!
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