I can vouch for this guy, he has the best fakes. I used his services to impersonate a man in CA, then I swatted a guy in KS and got his neighbor killed!
Enter, as simple as it is to say, "That's it, I'm going normal!" I think you're going to find that in practice, giving up a lifestyle like this is almost impossible. You know why? Because people can see the reflection of how you live in your eyes. You will never be able to cleanse your heart and soul of the dark things you have done on the outside. Everyone you make or even avoid eye contact with will always know the unspeakable things you've seen and the shame you will hold in your heart for eternity.
As soon as you walk in the door of the fortune teller's retail space you are punched in the nose by the smell of disinfectant and incense. A small older Chinese woman in a red robe greets you at the door and offers to take your coat. You say you just need to use the toilet and you prefer to take it with you. She says it's five dollars and holds out a tarnished brass box for you to put the money in. You ask her if four is alright, it's all you have on you, and she sighs and pushes you into a hallway towards the back of the shop.
You walk past bar after bar, Mexican restaurants and take out Chinese places. All displaying a discrete white paper sign on the door next to the no smoking sign that hand written in magic marker say "No Public Restroom." Your bowls quiver, the left over Indian food you had for lunch along with Mickeys malt liquor want out and you're a 45 minute bus ride with a transfer away from home. You walk a little farther and test to see if you can relieve the pressure in your gut with a fart, but you can feel the hangover soup trying to sneak its way out your asshole. You are ready to accept your fate when in the window of a fortune tellers shop you see a neon sign that in flickering pink letters says HUMAN TOILET, OPEN 24/7 365.
I lie on the cool basement floor for a few hours coming in and out of consciousness before Mash awakens me and helps me remove the blood crust from over my eyes with a pile of Arby's napkins and a bottle of water. I apologize for sucker punching him and he says he's sorry he took it so far, and that he doesn't know what had come over him. He reaches into the blue plastic cooler we were keeping the beers in and hands me a chunk of ice wrapped in a dirty shirt. We share the last steel reserve and smoke a couple roaches he found in a shoe box under his playstation.
Somewhere between two 24 oz steel reserves and a couple hits of crack skinny little Mash has learned to fight like an animal. As soon as my sucker punch landed Mash was hissing and swinging below my belt. I land another shot, this one firmly in his temple. He acts like he's going down, but instead takes a knee and uppercut blasts me in my testicles. Wide eyed, I buckle over, in such sever pain that I'm having trouble catching my breath. With a quickness Mash busts me between the eyes with an empty malt liquor bottle and I'm out. I try to open my eyes a few times but blood has pooled over them and coagulated.
I exhale a fat toke of the freebase cocaine and me and Mash proceed to rap battle for a little bit. The cocaine loosens my inhibitions and the free style raps seem to come out of me effortlessly. Mash how ever is a talented musician with years of freestyle rap experience. Needless to say he totally roasts me. I begin to fiend for another blast of crack but Mash has hidden it away, when I ask him to break out another pair of hits and he calls me a leach in another freestyle rap. I get pissed and I sucker punch him in the side of the head.
I park in around the block as instructed, the last time I was at Mash's house his dad tripped out and pulled a hunting rifle on me because I said some off the wall shit while on a bad acid trip. Problems avoided, I park up the street and climb through the basement window into the realm of Mash. It's a strange magical domain shrouded by an absence of drywall. I arrive after sunset and Mash is just waking up to a coffee cup full of stale steel reserve and non narcotic cough syrup. We shoot the shit for 15 minutes before we get down to business. Our business is smoking freebase cocaine and having a rap battle to the death and business is good. We smoke the cocaine though a car radio antenna that Mash has cracked off of his neighbors fully restored 1975 Olds Cutlass.
