Paincourt Antique

Title: FBI Guy

In 1994 I was a goofy guy with an Afro and a serious drug and alcohol problem. I was writing for a fanzine called SPORE in which we dealt with sensitive subjects such as drugs, sex, Satan, and fishing. I had at my disposal at any given time a bottle of liquor and high powered hallucinogenics. I also had very low paying jobs, which I would constantly quit because I was meant for greater things. I knew my calling, I was different, I was obnoxious, and I was really fucked up. I was turning into a world class loser.

I was over at a friend's house one evening who had just made the mistake of moving in with his girlfriend. We were all friends before this move. We had partied together and had even made a trip down to New Orleans for New Years Eve just a scant 5 months before. The purpose of my visit was to procure a few ounces of mushrooms from my friend and of course to hang out there and drink and talk and hopefully laugh. That was not to be. The girlfriend had started her nesting ritual and was getting aggravated by people mussing up said nest. I got in an argument with her and was told to leave, which I did gratefully.

I drove home to my apartment and about then these shrooms really kicked in, I thought that I could hang out alone, listen to music and drink myself to sleep. I was wrong, within an hour I was on the phone trying to contact anyone I could think of who might want to do something. Everyone was either already gone or had other plans. I was bummed out, I drank more and more, and then I drank. It didn't matter, I never felt drunk. I made long distance calls to old friends living far away from me. That blew about an hour or two. By this point and time the alcohol was beginning to take over, really take over…I had polished off nearly a whole fifth of Captain Morgans. This is where things got hazy…This is where I don't remember.

Luckily at this time I was unemployed and living off my unemployment check and my parents mercy (food.) So when I woke up the next day, spending a night alone whacked out of my mind didn't seem like such a dumb thing. I went about my business for the next couple of weeks looking for work and looking for a good time. One day however I came home to find a small business card taped to my mailbox. It was a plain business card, I nearly threw it down thinking it was for carpet cleaning or encyclopedias or something, but I looked, and when I looked my heart began to pound. It said, Mr. Bob Smith (or whatever his name was I don't remember anymore) Federal Bureau of Investigations. It also said, please call at your earliest convenience, as we need to speak with you about a serious matter.

My head was reeling, I was just screaming what the fuck?????? Over and over in my head. It was an unbearably hot day and my 400-pound neighbor lady with her litter of children came up and said the police were asking her when I normally came home. She said with her black toothy smile, "Don't worry honey, I told em I didn't know nuthin about your cummin's and goin's." "Thanks, I appreciate that." I went quickly inside and found a drink…I needed to think. What the fuck was going on here? I couldn't remember doing anything in my entire life or even associating with anyone else in my entire life that would do something dumb enough to involve the FBI. Then again I had been drinking a lot; I had been blacking out a lot. I have seen what some people were capable of during a blackout. Also, many of my friends were definitely known drug users. Maybe they are going to do something horrible to me, make me squeal. I am no squealer, damn them! They can fuck off! Maybe I should just move out of town, disappear. I need to get the fuck out of here. I went down to the corner bar. I would just have to drink this off tonight..this is too much stress, reorganize, regroup…tomorrow. Tomorrow I will know how to deal with this.

The next morning I decided that I was going to have to face the ordeal, just get it over with.

I made the phone call, a sweet sounding voice said, "Federal Bureau of Investigations- this is Mary speaking how can I assist you?" "Umm I am looking for agent Bob Smith, he was, umm he left a business card here…it said that I needed to discuss a serious matter with him." I was mumbling like a fool.

"One moment." Pleasant music played…Vivaldi. Then she came back on, "Sir may I have your name please?" I gave it.

"Thank you." She quipped pleasantly.

More music…centuries were turning into seconds and vice versa…my mouth was cotton dry. Igor Stravinsky, it was calming.

"Hello, Bob Smith speaking." Boomed an authoritative and confident voice. I was silent.

"Hello, sir?"

I wanted to hang up, I couldn't I was paralyzed. "Umm, I am calling in reference to the card you left on my mailbox." I stammered.

He spoke up, I could tell by listening to him that he was a nearly perfect being. "Finally, I have been waiting to talk to you for some time now. You are a very hard person to find." "Yeah, thanks I guess."

"Well let's get to the heart of the matter, I need to ask you some questions and I want you to answer them as truthfully as possible."

"OK." I nearly wept.

"You are the same person that served in the United States Navy with a certain Sean O'leary aren't you?"

"Yes, yes sir I am."

"And you are aware of Mr. O'leary's less than dubious record while serving in the United States Navy?"

"Yes, I mean, has Sean done something?" I was getting interested.

He then barked out. "I will be asking the questions, Ok? See that is how this process works out, I ask all the questions and you answer them."

"Alright, that is fine." I answered softly.

He proceeded. "Do you believe that your friend Sean is involved in any drug dealing or smuggling or any such business?"

"No, I am not sure, I haven't seen him for a couple of years, I wouldn't know." "Are you positive of that statement?" he asked.

I responded. "Well, no, I mean I think I saw him a couple of months ago, or weeks ago…he came up briefly from Key West to visit his mother. I don't know when it was exactly, we didn't hang out."

"Frankly sir, I wish you would learn how to lie better." He said sternly.

"No, I am serious…." I was then cut off,

"Do you also know a certain Julie Wilson who resides in Virginia Beach
Virginia?

"Ah well yeah, I do."

"Do you have any reason to believe that Sean has a reason to harm Miss Wilson because she may have stolen something from him?" Once again, said with a deadpan seriousness.

"I really have no clue, I haven't seen her in a while, listen, what is this all about? Has someone been hurt? They all did drugs if that is the point you're getting at. I really don't think any of them are like that." I was beginning to get scared.

"Well, you seem concerned, so I will let you know why we have contacted you. On May 5th of this year a phone call was placed to Virginia Beach, Virginia from your household that was intended for Miss Wilson. But the caller didn't leave the message at Miss Wilson's, the caller left the message at a high ranking Admiral's household and they turned the tape over to us. We investigated the tape as part of procedure and realized that we needed to take this seriously."

I began to get freaked out, "Is Julie alright?"

"Well, we were hoping you could tell us that since the phone call came from your residence…are you sure Mr. O'leary hasn't paid you a visit?"

I quickly responded, "I am super -positive."

"Very well, I am going to play the recording and I want you to let me know what you think of the recording and if anything sounds familiar, agreed?"

"Agreed"

The recording began to play-

"Listen up Julie Wilson! (A very dark and disturbed voice) Sean knows about everything. He said he is coming up from the Keys with Kip and that you and I are going to pay. I am getting the fuck out of here and if you know what is good for you, you will get the fuck out of town as well. I think they have gone fucking crazy. I think they are going to kill you! I know they are going to kill me, (uncontrollable sobbing) I wish I would have never took that shit, you fucking dumb BITCH! You said they would never know! (30 second pause with moaning sounds and heavy breathing turning into a crazy laughter) It's fucking over ain't it…you thought you were so FUCKING smart…Well whose laughing NOW! We are both dead and it is your fault (said very somberly.)" Another 20seconds of silence and then a busy tone.

"Does that sound familiar to you?"

I nervously giggled, while listening to the recording it all came back to me…It was the night of mushrooms and liquor, they had turned me into a madman. I had made the phone call it was a prank. I had dialed the wrong number. I was a complete moron.

I confessed, "Sir I am very sorry, I made the phone call. That is my voice…it was a prank, I leave messages like that all the time whenever I call her."

"Well when we found Miss Wilson she took it very seriously."

"I really don't know why she would've." I responded. "I have done that to her
before."

Little did I realize at that time that my friend had a mental breakdown and was in a psychiatric ward suffering from paranoid delusions. She had been in the hospital for over two months. Also, Julie had dated Sean a few years before and I guess Julie was afraid of him for some reason. I am not sure. "I want you to realize that we consider these issues incredibly serious and you might want to think twice before you make phone calls such as this." Mr. Smith said with conviction.

"Sir, I will never prank call anyone ever again, that is a promise."

"Let me remind you also that because of this incident we now have a file on you and are keeping our eye on you."

I didn't say anything.

"Well that will be all for now, thank you for your time. Have a nice day."

"Goodbye."

Click

I immediately walked to the bar and had a bender.

2010 Addendum: This story is pretty much true.

Spittle:

It was so hot. There is something about being here in that time that always reminds me of back then. The formality of time is useless. I can easily say the past occured. I can just as easily tell you what a dead skunk will smell like in the year 2012. That is the year idiots say it will all end. And maybe it will but regardless of what they say a dead skunk will still smell like a dead skunk.

I was remembering a mushroom trip. It was during the day I think around 1996. Man it was so hot. When you stepped outside it felt literally like a sauna. But it was the daytime. My friend Rob had said that the Mexicans did it during the darkness of nights because they felt that if it was something that could make a man or woman insane. I suppose “mysteries” like darkness?
Regardless, who cares about ancient Aztecs and their religion anyway? I think that was my response. My responses were always laced with alcohol in those days and I almost think that I wanted the mushrooms just so I would be able to drink all day. I dearly loved that combination of the clear headed sardonics with the lusty menthol brain. There was something great about it. I think that might have been a reaction to some of the earlier experiences with the “head people” that always had this clinical approach to taking drugs. Everything had to be a god damn ceremony and I hated that. It smacked of church in my opinion. I wanted to do whatever - whenever, I assumed that my body would tell me when enough was enough and you know what? I was USUALLY right.

So it came time to indulge ourselves. We took them juicy buggers. Previously in the day I had went down to the Central West End and did some record shopping. I bought Electr-o-pura by Yo La Tengo. It was somewhere during the listening of that where she came in. A blinding flash of white light that also had pearly waves meshed inside of it - she was all yellow and purple and I remember thinking that she should have been red and green. I thought maybe the angle of the sun had something to do with it. I was sure that after the years of “experimentation” that I had seen it all but this was one of a kind. This woman was dancing and swaying in the thin air and she did not exist. But yet she was so vivid and ….. well all I could do was sit back and watch her. I was hoping she’d say something but by this time my thoughts were somewhere else. They weren’t even attached to the other senses. They were all separated and they were all trying to find their own game. Somewhere though I had a thought and it said, “this is alright, but it’s time for more rum and coke.” With that all of the senses came crowding back into my head and she slowly disappeared back into from which she came. I got up and walked through the doorway where she once stood and into the kitchen and fixed myself a drink.