Things you can't unsee...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

It's been warm and muggy here the last week or so, the kind where even fans seem to have no effect.

Momma Bear and I had some shopping to do for a nephew's birthday, and even the a/c in the stores seemed to offer little relief.

As we were heading home, I noticed that a bar/restaurant we used to frequent had been turned into a Fireworks store. Not really all that surprising as it had been sitting vacant for a year or more...

Fireworks stores are all the rage here in Michigan as of late...the state has recently lifted it's near-ban on anything and everything fireworks related that was any fun at all!

Oh sure we were allowed sparklers, and smoke bombs, and those stupid little ash "snakes". But anything else that: 

1) moved 

2) exploded 

or 

3) left the ground 

was forbidden.

This is not to say we didn't have them, just that they were illegal as Hell!

Inevitably there would be some characters that made the pilgrimage South every year, loaded up their pick-up or hoopty or whatever else would roll and load up. Come back to Michigan and resell them at a huge profit. Such is the way of the Black Market.

One such purveyor of illicit fireworks was a guy named "Sam".

Sam was a regular customer at Gell's, the sporting goods store I worked at all through High School and beyond.

Of middling years, Sam was a swarthy fellow of Russian/Ukrainian decent. Salt had started to leak into his dark hair. A large, balding yet hairy guy of about six feet. He weighed in the neighborhood of 350 lbs. if he weighed an ounce. He was not large "all over" as some big men (like myself) are. No, Sam looked like a normal person you stuck an enormous belly on! He wore what hair he had left slicked down, and every time I saw him he had a red bandanna rolled up and tied around his neck, knot to the side...which always made me think "Gypsy". That, and he always had the stub of a fat cigar in the corner of his mouth, never lit.

Sam had a live-in girlfriend named "Christi"...and a couple kids between them.

Christi's hair was blonde, which she wore long with squared off bangs. Where Sam was swarthy, she was pale as meringue, blue veins visible beneath the skin...

A turned up nose and tiny deep-set eyes lent her face a certain "porcine" appearance. In fact, some of the cruder guys used to call her "Miss Piggy".

She was of a height with Sam, and truthfully looked like she could take him in a fair fight. Christi was a big woman...everywhere.

She had enormous breasts that never sagged. Why? There was nowhere for them to go!!! Like Sam, she had an extremely large, protuberant belly that left them nowhere to go.

One day Sam and Christi sauntered in... 
I say sauntered, because wherever he went...when Sam walked in a place, he walked in like he owned it! 

"Hey Kid!" he called in greeting though he was still halfway across the store. He knew my name, but only resorted to using it in the direst of circumstances.

"Hey Sam!" I called back...

"I gots a question for you and da guyz...you like fireworks?"

"Hell yeah!" I replied with youthful enthusiasm.

"Haz I got a deal for you guyz!" Sam stopped and looked over both shoulders to make sure he wouldn't be overheard. This always made me laugh. For even whispering, Sam was about as quiet as a freight train.

Satisfied he wasn't under any unwanted scrutiny, he continued.

"Had a guy, put in an order for a ton a shit. I go gets it all, and when I get back he starts the "I didn't know it'd be so much" and "I ain't got that kind o'money" so I tells him to piss off....Mother Scratcher!"

("Mother Scratcher" being Sam's coined, personal phrase....never heard it before or since.) 

"How much did he order?" I asked.

"Three bills worth! Now I ain't got time to sell it proper, get all my money out of it. But you guyz wants it, I'll let ya have it for $150 which is what I got into it." Sam said.

Well for guys that were making $65 a week part time...that was a lot of scratch.

"I'll talk to the guys Sam, see what they say...when do you need to know by?"

"You ask around, give me a call at this number..." He picked up one of the many notepads lying around, produced a pen and wrote down his number. "Let me know by Friday, or I'll have to make other arrangements."

So, I talked with the guys...my Assistant Manager Bruce was throwing a 4th. of July party and said he'd go in half if we could come up with the rest. I was able to, so I called Sam.

Sam gave me directions to his house, and a time to meet him...I got volunteered to make the "buy", as I was still a minor. I know, for a guy that planned to go into Law Enforcement this was not necessarily moral high ground....but it wasn't smuggling heroin either! Lol

I found the house easy enough, it was in a slightly less than middle-class neighborhood. Two stories of brick with white siding and black trim and faux shutters. It was HOT that day, and I was thankful I'd had the a/c recharged on my car.

The heat and humidity were like a slap in the face as I opened my door and made my way up the walk, and I felt a bead of sweat roll down between my shoulder blades.  A screen door was all that barred my entrance and I rapped loudly, as I could hear a television on in the back of the house.

My mind and eyesight wandered as I waited...watching the heat mirage boil up off the street.

"Hi Joe," a female voice said.

I turned back to the door and almost fell off the stoop in shock.

There stood Christi in nothing but a matching set of nude silk bra and panties!!! The largest of which I'd ever seen!

Her hair was matted to her head with sweat, and her face glistened with perspiration. The bottom of the bra was discolored with wetness, and salt stains showed it had at least retreated somewhat.

Sweat had also leaked from between her ample cleavage and down her belly to dampen the top of the panties just below her exposed belly button.

I averted my eyes immediately...blushing.

"I'll let Sam know you're here, come on in..." she said holding the door for me. As soon as I was inside she started for the back of the house, and I could see that dampness had also darkened the back of the panties around the waistline...and they were a little "low" if you catch my drift.

"SAM!!! JOE'S HERE!!! GET HIM HIS STUFF!!!" she bellowed as she went. 

"I'M COMING GOD DAMMIT, YOU DON'T HAVE TO SCREAM!!!" He bellowed back.

Sam appeared from a hallway off to the left and I was again taken aback. For there stood Sam in nothing but a pair of dingy, once white "tightie whities", bandanna and slippers. Holding a bottle of beer, cigar stub stuck in his mouth.

He was undoubtedly the hairiest man I had ever seen! The hair stood 3" above his shoulders and across his chest. Slicked down the center of his chest and wet from his man boobs to his belly button with sweat. He moved his beer to his left hand, wiped his right on his underwear and stuck it out for me to shake.

"Hey Kid, how ya doin'? Hotter'n a Mother Scratcher ain't it?"

Not wanting to give offense to a man in his own home, I shook the proffered hand.

"Sure as Hell is!" I replied, trying to look anywhere but at Sam.

I wiped my own hand on my pants discretely after the shake. 

"I got most of it in two grocery bags, the rest is in dis box," He said, kicking a box next to the couch with one slippered foot. "You got my money, yeah?"

"Sure do..." I took it out and counted it, giving me somewhere else to look. Sam took the cash and tucked it into the waistband of his underwear.

Christi came in with two, handled paper grocery bags and handed them to me.

"I told you to get his stuff..." She admonished Sam.

"I had a beer..." He told her, to me Sam said.

"You take the bags, and I'll carry the box for you..." 

"Ummmm I can come back up for it Sam, you don't have to come out..." I said.

"Nonsense," He replied "you guyz really helped me out taking all this off my hands...least I can do is help ya carry it."

With that he set down his beer, and squatted down to pick up the box.

"You're coming out like that?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Uhhh, never mind"

We walked out to my car, I opened the trunk and set the bags inside.

Then I turned to Sam, took the box and placed it in the trunk. I slammed the lid closed and turned back to Sam...and got another shock!

When Sam had squatted, the fabric of the underwear already straining at it's load...had gaped open to allow Mr. Winky to make a run for it!!!!

Sam, of course was oblivious...hanging out for God and all the world to see!

"Hey, Um...Ah, Sam..." I stammered, pointing towards his crotch.

He looked puzzled for a moment then looked down.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!!!" He exclaimed, tucking himself back in with his right hand.

"Sorry bout that..." He said

"Well, I best get going..." I said.

"Sure, sure..." Sam said. "And thank the guyz for me again."

He stuck out his hand again...I just looked at it for a second.

"Not this time..."

"Oh, yeah....right!!!" He laughed uproariously, and gave me a pat on the shoulder that rocked me. "Enjoy!"

With that he made his way back inside, his slippers slapping as he went.

He and Christi waved from the door as I backed out the drive.

I drove over to the store to divvy up the fireworks, feeling guilty and more than a little unclean...

When I got to the store, the guys wanted a full rundown on where Sam lived, what the house was like...everything.

I started the story with this:

"You know, there are just some things you can't unsee..."

Hope you Mother Scratchers are having a great Weekend!!!

Keep cool!

Be Well Folks!!!

Gifted...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

I have in my possession a vintage pair of Smith & Wesson(yes the folks that make guns) Model 94 

Maximum Detention handcuffs.

Back when I got them, some 30+ years ago...they were the end all and be all of handcuff technology. 

Tube keyed and nickle plated steel.

Supposedly impossible to pick.

I did not buy them, they were about $85 back then...

No, they were gifted to me, and therein lies a tale...

It was the spring of my senior year, doing optional semester with Oakland County Sheriff's Dept. and working my after school job at Gell's Sporting Goods.

On Saturdays I habitually worked a 12 hour shift, 9-9.
This made for a long day, but I worked with a great group of people(for the most part) and we had a lot of fun!

I had gotten a new Assistant Manager, up from our store in Livonia named Steve Borza. Steve was in his late 20's...a red haired, brown eyed fella with pinched ferret-like features, and tons of nervous energy! Steve had one true love in his life...The Beatles! A fount of knowledge about the band, their songs, movies, you name it!!!

This particular Saturday, it was just Steve managing the store as the manager was off, and the other assistant was on vacation.

I was, as usual working the gun counter on the far side of the store with my buddy Mike Dumas.

The morning had been busy, but uneventful...business as usual. Around 3 o'clock, maybe three thirty I saw a youngish black fellow squatted down looking at our revolvers through the glass showcase and stepped down to see if I could help him.

"Good afternoon," I said "anything I can show you today?"

He didn't answer, but slowly stood.
He was a good inch or two shorter than me, 5'9" or so and slight of build. By his dress, he appeared to be not too well off...not a judgment, but as a salesman you learn to access the person you're dealing with.

His attire was budget store chic. Navy work pants...a little big, maybe second hand. Black converse sneakers, a green and red striped pullover shirt(ala Freddie Krueger) and an army surplus OD green knee length overcoat, open, completed the look.

He pointed through the glass and said:

"May I see that one?" Pointing to a S&W model 28 "Highway Patrolman", a 4" barreled .357 magnum popular with police depts. across the country at the time.

I unlocked the case and removed the gun he indicated, checked it was empty and handed it to him butt first.

He took it from me, examining it closely opening the action, trying the trigger, the things a "normal" buyer does.

Then he did something normal buyers DON'T do...
With the gun in his right hand, he raised it and put the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger 6 times...
"Click, click, click, click, click, click"

"Yep," He said "that'll do...."

I snatched the gun away from him, as other customers and Mike looked on in shock.

"What the Hell are you doing man?!?"

He just looked at me and shrugged, turned and walked away...
I watched him until he was out the front doors and out of the store.

Steve had been in the back of the store when this happened, and Mike and I told him what had happened. So should this guy come back, he'd be prepared if the guy asked Steve to show him anything.

A couple hours later, I was in back on my dinner break when Steve sent one of the other guys to come get me. When I found Steve he was watching the guy I had waited on earlier. I went over and asked him what was up.

He told me this guy had in fact returned, and asked him to see the exact same gun. Having been forewarned he had declined, saying he had heard what he had pulled earlier and would not be showing him ANY guns. Instead of leaving...the guy was now "creeping" around the store...
Steve tasked me with shadowing him until he left.

When I went over and asked if I could help him, he asked:

"Oh, you work over here too?"

I allowed that "Yes, I work the whole store...so anything you need, I can help you."

He meandered through the store, stopping every now and then to examine something that caught his eye...all the time mumbling to himself.

He went back to hockey, through camping, and baseball...where he looked at a couple bats (I half expected him to start smacking himself in the head with one).

When he went into shoes, I broke off and told Steve that perhaps we should call the cops...this guy's not right, and I'm getting a really bad vibe off him. Steve was hesitant as the guy had not actually done anything yet.

When I turned around, I had lost sight of him...a quick search put him back in the boxing/weight lifting area. As I walked up on him he was standing in front of the barbell rack. Picking them up one at a time, checking their price tag before setting them back in the rack.
Finally settling on the 15 pound cast iron dumbbell.

"I've been needing one of these..." he said to me.

"The cashier will be happy to ring you up at the front of the store sir." I offered, hoping against hope this foolishness was over.

"There is one other thing I need..." He replied and headed back towards the gun dept., weight in hand.

I caught Steve's eye and mouthed "Call NOW" and he headed towards the phone.

Our overcoated weirdo headed up the aisle right for the case with the revolvers in it.

At the last minute he stopped and started looking at the books and magazines on a spiral rack at the end of the aisle and I took the opportunity to put my self between him and the showcases.

He picked up a book from the rack and held it up like he was intently reading the cover, but when I looked at his eyes he was starring back into mine. In that instant,the hatred that flashed across his face made me think the dumbbell was intended for me. Time slowed...

He flung the book towards my face and launched the weight as hard as he could towards the glass showcase. There was a deafening crash of glass as the weight smashed through the case, and the glass selves collapsed sending thousands of dollars worth of guns into a pile at the bottom of the case, covered in broken glass.

Thinking he had distracted me, he launched himself towards the now open showcase. What he had not counted on was me ducking like my life depended on it...which I thought it did if he was swinging that weight for my head. The book sailed harmlessly past my head.

As he passed me I got both hands full of the front of his coat, redirected him and using my own body as a fulcrum used his momentum against him to spin him around and slam him into the wooden counter, knocking the wind out of him. He went down on his knees but tried to spring up and away from me. I brought my left elbow down hard between his shoulder blades, the blow driving him back down. I grabbed his left arm, wrenching it behind him. Twisting, I brought my right forearm across the back of his neck and shoved his face into the mat, pinning his right arm with my body and holding him there with my weight. He went limp and stopped fighting.

Steve was at the counter where we landed, and was momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"Get me a set of cuffs!" I said to him...he just stared at me.
"Steve!" I repeated loudly "Cuffs!!!" 

He snapped out of it, opened the case and tossed me a set of the cheap $20 handcuffs we sold. I released the pressure on the guy's neck and snagged them with my right hand. 

"Don't move" I told him, increasing the pressure on his left arm.

I put the cuffs on him and got him to his feet. Searching him, I found no ammo...that was a good thing.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked him.

"I did it for my girlfriend...I have her picture in my pocket." He said pointing to his breast pocket with his chin.

There was but one piece of paper in his pocket, with one picture on it...this one! No Shit!

"This is all that's in there.." I told him.

"Isn't she pretty?" He answered.

We took him back to the office to wait for Waterford PD, which was a short wait as Steve had been on the phone with them when the showcase collapsed.

He was arrested, charged with attempted armed robbery and assault and taken for a psych. evaluation, or to sober up if he was in fact high.

A week later when I came into work the owner of the store was in, Steve came and got me and told me solemnly they wanted to have a little talk with me before my shift...certain I was going to catch hell for something, I followed him back.

In the office were the Manager, the owner Robert Gell, and the two Assistant Managers.

I wasn't in trouble. 

Instead they thanked me for stopping what could have been a very bad situation.

"Steve tells me you're taking Law Enforcement training through school, is that right?" The owner asked.

"Yes sir." I answered him

"Then these will come in handy," He said reaching into his pocket
"I hear they're the best they make!" Handing me the distinctive blue box.

"Thank you Robert!" I said, shaking his hand.

"Don't thank me...Thank Steve, it was his idea and he ordered them."
I looked to Steve.

Steve gave me a wink "You earned them buddy!"

Months later, I was at the trial...expecting to testify when I was told it had been plead down to "Malicious destruction of property, over $1000" He was given a year...and didn't end up serving but about 8 months.

So there ya have it...how I came to own a pair of one of the best handcuffs ever made.
Though I know some of you will think this instead...

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear