Nick Polk

English 1102

Professor Rogers

23 April 2011

Do the Affects of Revenge Ever End?

            Revenge always leads to tragedy, no matter if the revenge is morally right or wrong. Revenge is an evil that can slowly build up and possess someone to do things him /her normally wouldn’t. Hamlet serves as a great testament to these things. In Hamlet’s culture he was morally right in seeking revenge on Claudius for killing his father, but did this revenge end up going the way Hamlet originally planned and how did the buildup of this evil affect Hamlet throughout the play?

            Hamlet’s culture is responsible for the way Hamlet seeks revenge in the play: “Hamlet is the product of a culture that knew a truth beyond all the confusions and diversities of life. It is certainly logical to look at him in terms of that truth. If it be insisted that we today are too far away from it, then we must be too far away from Hamlet as well, who would survive as a relic of the past and of nothing else” (Davis 3). In other words, Davis believes that Hamlet showed truth in his madness and our generation today would not go to the extent of which Hamlet did to avenge his family, as so this makes our generation today “untruthful” in a sense. If revenge is looked at today it can be seen that it is a waste of time and always ends up wrong, but in Hamlet’s time it was a duty to avenge family. The ghost or Hamlet’s father in the play wants to be avenged and how can a son deny his father something so honorable: “So art thou to revenge, when thou shall hear” (line 8). Once the Ghost tells Hamlet that his father was murdered by Claudius, the fire is lit and Hamlet is set on revenge.

            Hamlet’s determination possesses him and makes him perform duties of which he doesn’t want to perform: “My purpose in bringing all this in is to demonstrate the attitude of Hamlet toward a duty which he does not want to perform, but which honor, circumstances, and chance all require that he perform whether he like it or not” (Davis 43). Hamlet’s emotions come out and you start to see the revenge taking control: “By asking why Hamlet is aroused to react in turn with fear, desire, contempt, and disgust—not only towards Gertrude, but also towards Ophelia and the Ghost—I hope to show that Hamlet’s “problems” lie in his epistemological dilemma spurred by the material manifestations of “the inexpressibly horrible” (Kumamato 48). In the play Hamlet’s mentality has been changed in order for him to carry out these acts. He has turned ruthless and full of anger and expresses it as such by telling Ophelia: “get thee to a nunnery” (3.1 118). In other word’s Hamlet is calling Ophelia a whore and directly shows his determination in seeking revenge.

            Hamlet seems to grow with evil throughout the play and most critics wonder if it has anything to do with the Ghost’s command over him: “Elizabethan ghosts, we are told, could be good or evil / The moral ambivalence of the Ghost’s command is made quite explicit it admits that murder, which is what it seeks, is even in, the best, most foul, Furthermore, the motives for the revenge it seeks are largely private there are many lines of heartfelt anguish at the adulterous relationship between Gertrude and Claudius” (Hughes 395). The Ghost seems to make Hamlet believe that murder will solve everything and that he must kill Claudius to avenge his father, but what if the Ghost is actually the Devil trying to manipulate Hamlet? This would explain a lot of things because someone’s father would not push revenge so hard even back in Hamlet’s era.

            Hamlet was so overwhelmed with revenge that his safe plan of killing Claudius spins out of control. At first Hamlet was like okay, I’m not going to let this get out of control, I’m going to make the killing clean and prove Claudius’s guilt first, but it didn’t turn out the way he planned. Hamlet proves Claudius’s guilt and spots him kneeling and praying while on the way to his mother’s chambers, Hamlet contemplates how easy it would be to just plunge a sword into his back and let things be over with, but Hamlet feels that this would be a benefit instead of revenge as Claudius would go to heaven: “Now might I do it pat, now is a-praying / And now I’ll do’t – and so goes to heaven” (3.3 72-73). Instead of killing Claudius and being through with the murder, Hamlet decides to wait. Hamlet must give Claudius more of a death than the crime Claudius committed: “The revenge killing requires craft because it must equal the outrage of the original crime and satisfy the revenger’s intense feelings” (Brucher 257). Hamlet’s madness wants him to be satisfied in killing Claudius and leave him with a sense that payback has been served. Once Hamlet arrives in his mother’s chambers he hears Polonius cry out from the drapes and mistakes him for Claudius and kills him. This just goes to show that revenge never ends because if Hamlet would have just killed Claudius in the alley then more people would not have to die.

            Claudius is now trying to get rid of Hamlet and plans to kill him in a “friendly” sword fight, but Claudius has a few tricks up his sleeve. Claudius has poisoned the tip of Laertes’ blade and poisoned a drink that he will offer to Hamlet. Hamlet refused the drink and Gertrude unknowingly drinks it, which results in killing her. Hamlet then kills Claudius and Laertes. Hamlet is now left alone and drinks the poison and also dies. This goes to show that revenge always leads in tragedy. Hamlet got corrupted with vengeance which led to the ultimate never ending ride of tragedy: “It is a play about vengeance and how avengers lose their souls, sin, and corrupt in turn” (Lidz 33).

            In conclusion, revenge always ends up spiraling out of control and into tragedy. It will start off with a nice plan of action, but will always end up going wrong. Hamlet started off with a plan of action, but his vengeance led him into getting more innocent people killed, including his mother. Revenge never has a designated area to stop and when it does stop the damage has already been done. Revenge always leads into corruption and greed: “Any satisfaction a man may derive from punishing his enemy is more than outweighed by the utter misery he brings on himself” (Prosser 11). Hamlet’s madness ultimately leads him to destroy himself and others; twice the damage was dealt than originally because Hamlet acted with such vengeance and anger. Hamlet finally admits his madness in the end with an apology to Laertes: “Give me your pardon, sir / I have done you wrong, but pardon’t as you are a gentleman / This presence knows and you must needs have heard / How I am punished with a sore distraction / What I have done / That might your nature, honor and exception, roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness” (5.2 90-96). Hamlet is too late in realizing his madness in the end, however for tragedy has already struck. This all goes to show that revenge never truly ends and when it does tragedy has already struck, so revenge is truly a dish best served cold and should only be pursued with no outside factors or influences.

Works Cited

-Davis, Arthur G. Hamlet and the Eternal Problem of Man. NY: St. John’s UP, 1964.

-Lidz, Theodore. Hamlet’s Enemy: Madness and Myth in Hamlet. NY: Basic Books, 1975

-Prosser, Eleanor. Hamlet and Revenge. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1967.

-Hughes, Geoffrey. “Conscience in Literature” English Studies; Oct76, Vol. 57 Issue5, p395, 15p. Academic Search Complete.

Web. 23 Apr. 2011

-Brucher, Richard T. “Revenger’s Tragedy” Studies in English Literature (Rice); Spring 81, Vol. 21 Issue 2, p257, 14p. Academic Search Complete.

Web. 23 Apr. 2011

-Fly, Richard. “Accommodating Death in Hamlet” Studies in English Literature (Rice); Spring 84, Vol. 24 Issue2, p257 18p. Academic Search Complete

Web. 23 Apr. 2011

-Kumamoto, Chikako. “Hamlet’s Revenge and the Abject” Journal of the Wooden O. Symposium; 2006 Vol.6 p48-64, 17p. Academic Search Complete

Web. 24 Apr. 2011

Nick Polk

English 1102

Professor Rogers

23 April 2011

Presentation Outline

I. Hamlet’s revenge ultimately leads to his demise.

A.        Hamlet is defended in going for revenge by his culture moral ideas. Arthur Davis says in one of his books that “Hamlet is the product of a culture that knew a truth beyond all the confusions and diversities of life. It is certainly logical to look at him in terms of that truth. If it be insisted that we today are too far away from it, then we must be too far away from Hamlet as well, who would survive as a relic of the past and of nothing else” (Davis 3) In other words, Davis believes that Hamlet showed truth in his madness and our generation today would not go to the extent of which Hamlet did to avenge his family.

B.        It is great that Hamlet is standing up for the morals of his era, but to what extent does revenge stop and when it does isn’t the damage already dealt?

Hamlet grows with evil throughout the play and some critics have an explanation of why. Geoffrey Hughes believes that the Ghost is just a tool of the Devil and manipulated Hamlet to act the way he does. “Elizabethan ghosts, we are told, could be good or evil / The moral ambivalence of the Ghost’s command is made quite explicit it admits that murder, which is what it seeks, is even in, the best, most foul,” (Hughes 257).

So as this influence of revenge fires up Hamlet, his plan of making the killing of Claudius sort of clean cut, changes. Instead of killing Claudius while he is praying when it would be so easy to do he decides to wait and kill Claudius when he is sinning that way, he would not go to heaven. Hamlet’s mistake of not killing Claudius here results in the killing of two more innocent people including himself, Polonius and Gertrude. Richard Brucher says “The revenge killing requires craft because it must equal the outrage of the original crime and satisfy the revenger’s intense feelings” (Brucher 257). He stabs Polonius behind the drapes and Gertrude mistakenly drinks the poison and Hamlet decides to drink the poison as well to get rid of the misery. So is revenge really worth chasing after? You never know when it’s going to end and when it does tragedy has already struck.

For the guys out there, you must have heard the phrase – “Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned” and never is this truer the case than with our modern feisty women that we love to hate and hate to love! Just remember that she knows things about you that you might not want released to the general public such as those photos of you wearing makeup as a laugh or the weird sound you make in the bedroom! Girls can be nasty, fickle creatures and if you are going to cross them, you better be prepared!

Of course, guys can be fickle creatures as well but generally they will be less nasty than their female counterparts. A guy that has been cheated on will more likely want to save face among his friends and therefore do his crying in public and his back biting about you in the pub with all of the lads about him. Of course, if you were silly enough to let him take photos of you in compromising positions, you maybe should ask for them back or at least delete them from his phone or laptop if you get the chance otherwise you could find yourself posted on a million and one websites for everyone to see!

The best thing is, of course, not to cheat on your partner but if you are going to make the decision to jump into bed with someone else, at least make sure that your other half won’t find out and if they do, that they don’t have any dirt to dish on you!

For example, Alvin had a lot of ‘power’ in his very narrow dominion, and sought to punish  Edna in various small ways.  He demoted her, ignored her suggestions, treated her as a virtual paracite.  Everyone liked Edna and over time spoke to Alvin about his treatment which forced him to back off certain decisions and resolve them more favourably in Edna’s behalf. 

The fact that Edna had befriended all and sundry, had spent hours canvassing as if a politician looking for votes is hidden beneath the fabric.  Alvin only knows that he was made to look very bad and was impelled to perform more pro-Edna actions then he would have done in a neutral environment.

Edna’s revenge is far sweeter than confrontation and tit for tat.  She has caused Alvin’s status to drop.

During elections at the local PTA a young male incumbent attacked an older woman challenger.   He used a lot of unnecessary terms to ridicule her.  When she won she embraced him and called him her ’son’ with such warmth that it was almost funny, considering what he’d said about his ‘mother.’ 

When you launch your revenge it must seem natural and almost accidental.   It must result in the target  losing more than was gained. 

Revenge should always be taken some time after the incident (s).  The actions should not be connected as a tit for tat but seem to come from some objective place.

For example, some years ago a particular person was especially beastly in circumstances which made the actions unnecessary.   At a point he had made a tender and it came before the Committee and the person he had been unpleasant to, in the most bored voice “I think tender 4 is a better contractor…”  As no one had any particular preference they went with another tender, leaving Beastly quite out in the cold.

There was nothing to link his actions of three years ago to this decline today, and no reason to consider that particular person of any particular power.

Never take revenge when it reduces you to a lower level than your target unless that is your intention

An exciting crime story set in Depression era America, dealing with a brutal revenge committed against a bullying cop by a gangster who just can’t take any more grief and harassment.  He finds himself even having nightmares featuring the bull cop, Mulley.

Luca Torelli finds his every move creating suspicion for Mulley, who arrests him and threatens him frequently, severely hampering his actual crime work. He sets out to get revenge using a doctored handgun, a moll and an accomplice, but a blind man watching nearby may not be as blind as he claims.

The tension is well handled, and the violence is perfectly controlled up to the stark, if a little easy to guess final act of vengeance, but the capture of sleazy diners, police interrogation rooms, and men of cheap violence and short fused tempers is pitch perfect. There are no nice people in the story, which would have made a great James Cagney or George Raft vehicle as it fits their era perfectly well.

Character faces are amazingly well drawn, and I felt as if I could hear the sound of striking matches, fists hitting faces and the crack of the bullet going off at climax.

Here, the law does not win the cop is more corrupt than the killer he pursues and the sense of blindness and poor eyesight is a recurring motif, with Mulley also having a dead eye.

Arthur Chappell

Spoiler space warning .

The sub-plot back story to a second of the Preacher’s fascinating enemies, a boy called Root, with a face that has ended up shaped like a bare backside. Here we have the unfortunate wretch’s pitiful origins. He will end up being known only as Arseface.

He starts out as a well meaning, polite, naïve and slightly retarded hippy in a redneck Southern States community. Though white, he is very sympathetic to the black activism cause at the height of the Civil Rights movement, in the days of Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King. This makes him unpopular with the racists at his school.

The boy lives with, and admires his drunken violent father who beats him up on a regular basis. Many others bully him too, with only one friend seeming to give a hoot for him. Together they steal the cop’s gun and shoot bottles with it. They also take drugs and become blood brothers, vowing to be friends even unto death. They are Nirvana fans, dangerously influenced by the suicide of Nirvana singer Kurt Colbain.  They use the gun to kill a barking dog that annoys them, and then decide to kill themselves. While his friend succeeds, Root fails and blows his face inside out, ending up with the disfigurement that gives him his new identity as Arseface. This may make him one of comic book history’s least likely villains in the making.

When his dad dies, in an incident-involving Preacher, Arseface vows vengeance. Preacher has another unlikely enemy.

Ennis makes the villains in Preacher quite tragic figures rather than power crazed megalomaniacs. They are bitter, unlucky unloved individuals who have a lot of anger to share and kill for. They become likeable.

Arthur Chappell

Follow the road from Pendle east
through forest, moss and moor
when overworld’s portal hangs agape
in the days upon the year,

So many lonely travellers
have passed that way before
and met a vengeful spirit there
in the days upon the year.

In the valley by Wycoller
where mist hangs like a caul
you will hear ancient voices sing
as darkness starts to fall.

An old bridge spans the river there,
only a fool, the stories say,
would cross its span upon these nights
when the dark ones are set free.

From the shadows steps a woman,
her head shrouded by a veil.
She begged me stay a while and listen
as she told her tragic tale.

On one arm she held a basket
covered by a linen sheet
and her head was coyly lowered.
Did she practice some deceit?

Though I tried to sidestep past her
or turn away to leave
she called me with my given name,
pale fingers caught my sleeve.

Then she gently brushed my forehead:
Her soothing voice intoxicates,
men are trapped in her enchantment;
he is lost who hesitates.

She told me of two young lovers
who met in the darkness here
and made their plan for freedom
in the days upon the year,

A young maid, the only daughter
of a stern faced puritan
and a boy whose noble family
bowed to the church of Rome.

The pair met here by the river
when the mist hung like a shroud
but as they kissed she told a secret.
He recoiled and cursed aloud.

Backing away he accused her
of bringing him to shame,
the bastard child he’d got on her
would stain his family’s name.

She said “I have my father’s silver,
who cares for reputation,
we will travel to the Virginias
and there will have high station.”

“I care not for you nor your child,
you gave yourself too easily,
a harlot’s love is worth nothing
but honour demands high fee.”

Drawing his sword he pierced her heart
and took the silver coin.
Lastly he hacked off her head
hoping to conceal his crime.

And while the blood flowed from those wounds
he lifted the body high,
threw it down into dark waters
and quickly rode away.

“My father cursed my soul,” she says,
“I am damned by my falsehood
until I can find one man who has
never betrayed his love.”

She lifted up her hooded head,
no face was hidden by that cowl
only an abysmal darkness.
From the void a banshee howl.

Lifting back the basket’s cover
she showed what lay within
And then I knew this creature for
the embodiment of sin.

A lovely head lay on a pillow,
golden hair stained red with blood,
dead eyes opened, blue as sapphires,
the mouth a pink rosebud.

She threw back her cloak revealing
the wound where once her neck
rested on pale, slender shoulders.
The dead called me from the beck.

Demonic arms embraced my waist
and bore me to the edge
and the voices of the dead called out
from darkness below the bridge.

She held me over that dark water,
asked; and I denied betrayal,
“he lies, he lies,” the voices cried
and the dead hands let me fall.

All men sometime betray a love
when the passion first abates
but in the days upon the year
an avenging spirit waits.

Notes:The story is cobbled together from three local legends, The Grey Lady of Dunkenhalgh, The Headless Hag of Grane, the Haunted Bridge (which is not actually at Wycoller but Mitton does not scan). I added the gothic ending as a bit of spice.
The Days Upon The Year is a very ancient legend. A logical mindset may have wondered why there are 360 degrees of longitude and 365 days in a year. It was not always so it seems, something happened in pre – history that added five and a quarter days to the earth’s orbit. The ancient Egyptians an Sumerians believed these five days were the time in which the Gods were born, in the sense they they came to earth, and at this time of year the barriers between the physical world and other dimensions is open. Old pagan religions saw this not as unholy but as a time for partying, crazy behaviour and unconstrained boffing. The festivities were presided over by the Lord of Misrule and as normal order was suspended a lot of June / July babies looked nothing like the men who ought to be their fathers.
The Overworld is again a reference to the older religion which has no concept of hell. The physical world is the lowest level of existence and therefore the underworld.

Beck is an ancient North of England word for a small river or creek

A caul is the membrane in which a foetus is contained within the womb. It has all sorts of mystical associations which is the reason I used it here (apart from the fact that it rhymed of course.)

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My friend Nicole told me her revenge story from High School. In high school, she was not that popular with the “in” crowd, but she had my own friends and had a good time. There was one girl, Karen who Nicole really could not stand. Karen was one of those rich girls that seemed to have everything. Nicole did not grow up with money. Nicole did not hate her because she had money she hated her because she made fun of Nicole not having money. Nicole’s revenge on her came completely out of the blue.

Her class had just graduated and they had a yearend party, everyone was invited. The party was at a house in a pretty good neighborhood. When Nicole showed up to the party, she was a couple of hours late. While walking to the party from her car Nicole noticed Karen passed out in the car. It seemed like a perfect opportunity for revenge. Nicole found some of the class clowns to help her with her plan. She and the boys went to the store and bought them out of saran wrap. When they got back to the party they wrapped Karen’s car completely in saran wrap and then called her parents. Needless to say Karen got in big trouble. This is a funny story about revenge as no one was hurt in this situation. As adults we cannot carry around that kind of hatred or anger. We have to learn to let that go because the Karen’s of the world may have had affect on us when we were trapped in High School, but they do not now.

Respect your body even if you do not respect your emotions. Acknowledge how you feel when you are carrying around this revenge – your heart racing, your muscles tensing, your whole mind screwed up. Ask yourself if this is the sort of state you want to be in for the rest of your life and consider whether the person you want revenge on is feeling as bad as you. Most likely they’re unaware even of your deep-seated anger. And anger only feeds on itself and gnaws at you; it isn’t harming anybody else.

See my website for a FREE guide to help you start on your emotional healing so you can also heal financially. Visit our website for your FREE Seven Step Guide to Financial Recovery at www.hdpriceinc.com.

Today, the 21st day of September, year of 2011; the justice system of America has committed an obvious act of murder & revenge.

The late Troy Anthony Davis was murdered by the state of Georgia for a crime that was committed to a police officer.

A case that linked no physical evidence to the accused & now dead Troy A. Davis. A case that has had many of the witnesses admit to being coerced & other witnesses admit to seeing somebody else do it.

This a few months after a mother by the name of Casey Anthony was released from jail due to lack of evidence, yet in the case of this white women killing her child there was more evidence than in the Davis case.

Now anyone that knows me well, knows that I hate pulling the race card but its undeniable in this case.

A black man was accused of killing a white cop & evidence or not revenge was had.

I love my country but I absolutely hate its dark side. We can put a black man in the highest position to be had, yet we can’t get justice for a man of the same race.

INSIDE I’M CRYING RIGHT NOW!!!

 Sometimes issued as Honour And Arms, this is a story about an army officer of no honour at all.  He is an aristocratic Captain, and a consummate bully.

He is petty and plain downright nasty to moist of the men in his charge, but particularly to the young soldier he targets as his personal valet and orderly. The young man is given an endless series over duties as a servant, washing clothes, polishing brass, buttons, and boots, even when the tasks are not necessary.

The Captain is particularly vindictive in discovering that they young man has a fiancée who he meets whenever he has leave. The Captain ensures that leave is continually cancelled to break the boy’s chances of meeting with the girl, and has the soldier serving his needs instead.  The relationship strains to breaking point.

Sensing that the Captain is targeting him specifically, the soldier has no means to air his grievances against a highly respected aristocrat, so he settles initially on making a few embarrassing mistakes to upset the man. That only makes the bully even more bullying, and the tension strain on until the soldier finally decides to kill the Captain.

Staging an accident that fails to fool anyone, the soldier kills the officer, and finds himself hunted down and killed by the other soldiers in the army, dying a sad lonely death, happy to go knowing that his lover can never be his again.

A powerful, uncompromising look at man’s dominance and cold heartedness to other men. The soldiers have no enemies to fight in this doom-laden story – they turn their savagery on one another instead. 

The Text to The Prussian Officer – http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks03/0301501h.html#C01

 Arthur Chappell

Throughout the development of our friendship, I can’t count the number of times Joe saved us from potential trouble by taking the wise and more mature approach to life.  There was the time when we were very young, that I hatched the bright idea of stealing a glimpse of a Playboy Magazine.  I knew Playboys were being sold from behind the counter of a local soda shop, that we frequented.

Oh, by the way, a soda shop is an old fashioned privately owned pharmacy of sorts that sold just about everything a person could want.  There was an older gentleman ( also named Joe) who worked at this soda shop, and who would make cherry cokes for Joe and I.   Joe and I used to sit and sip on on a glass full of cherry coke, while we devoured pretzel rods that were kept in a glass jar on the counter.

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Anyhow, one day while were were indulging in our favorite past time, I noticed old Joe reluctantly sold a magazine he tried to keep hidden from our view.   The magazine was a Playboy purchased by a local man. Being adolescents who were quite curious about the female anatomy,  I hatched this scheme in which we would gain access to such reading material.  The scheme involved young Joe keeping old Joe busy while I slipped behind the counter and grabbed a Playboy.  

The big day came, and the scheme went down without a hitch.  Young Joe kept old Joe busy while I covertly slipped behind the counter, and grabbed our ill gained loot.  I stuffed the magazine under my coat and slipped out the front entrance, while young Joe kept his senior counterpart talking.  I am not sure, but I suspect old Joe was aware of our theft.

Once outside, young Joe met up with me, and we spent the day oohing and aahing over the major mammary in one of Hef’s earliest editions.  The downside of this fantastic caper was that I had the bright idea of hiding this skin mag in between the limbs of a tree Joe and I used to climb into to watch local football games.  Well, even though we got our lustful fill of the sexy babes, one night it rained really hard, and the magazine was all but totally destroyed.  That was most probably a fair example of the often interesting and exciting experiences Joe and I shared growing up. Times that were reminiscent of the movie Summer of 42.  No matter, what we did when we were together we always had fun.

Now, back to the story. Joe and I decided to take a short trip after we graduated,  to see what there was to see, and have some unique experiences before we got too old.  Like I said, we were already 18.  I had bought an old silver Ford Falcon, from Joe’s brother’s girl friend, who we called Mugs.  Don’t know why we called her Mugs, but I do remember she was pretty hot looking. Anyhow, the Falcon ran pretty good, and didn’t use much gas, so it seemed like the vehicle to take on a short trip.

Of course we told everyone we were going cross country, but to us that was any distance beyond our past experiences away from Freetown.  Freetown was your typical small town USA.  You know, there was the oft recognized and admired super hot babe that all the local guys knew and had fantasies about. There was the well known, and easily recognizable tough guys.  One such guy was named Leo and was Joe’s brother’s best friend.  And talk about hot babes, his sister was totally hot, and super sweet to boot.  Good ole Leo saved Joe and I from more than one hot pursuit through town, by some out-of-town ruffians.  Quite sadly though, many years later, Leo and another good friend of ours were killed in an early morning crash in Leo’s blue corvette on State Route 20.

Anyway, Joe and I packed up some clothes, and allot of snacks and were ready to head out of town in my Falcon, which we nicknamed the Falvet GT.  In case you are not acquainted with fine luxury vehicles the Falvet Gt was primer colored silver, with gold lug nuts on the hand painted wheels.  Instead of the modern day 12 disc CD player in the trunk, we had a remote record player.  I cut a hole in the rear window sill, and installed a battery operated record player, which would skip with each bump in the road we hit. The hole had a dual purpose, allowing for the easy disposal of burger wrappers and soft drink cups, into the trunk below.  Oh yeah, there was a small hole in the passenger side floor which allowed for the easy disposal of soft drinks or other non wanted liquids in an emergency, if you get my drift.

So, Joe and I headed out of town ready for adventure and excitement.  I drove, because no one else was allowed to drive the Falvet GT.  Joe drove occasionally, when he could get his dad to let us take his super sweet 57 Chevy convertible out for a ride.  But like I said, no one else was allowed to drive the custom machine I endearingly called the Falvet GT.

Joe and I made up our minds to head out of town, and pick up some hot babes.  Of course, that was based on allot of speculation as to our ability to attract hot babes, which heretofore had not transpired.  Quite unexpectedly, a last minute change of plans found us enjoying the company of our childhood friend, and my first girlfriend named Nan.  Nan was the daughter of my parents best friends, and we had been thrown together often times, evidently in hopes of establishing a romantic relationship.

Well, you know how that goes.  Nan was cute and very sweet.  Of course, like most guys, I had my eye on a prize beyond my childhood ability to attract.  You know the girl dreams are made of.  Again, quite sadly, the last time I saw Sal (my dream girl),  she was rumored to be a drug addict with a habit that she couldn’t control.  Anyhow, Nan caught up with Joe and I shortly before our dramatic departure, and convinced us that she would be the perfect Buffer to any conflict between Joe and I on the road trip.

Nan had transcended the “girlfriend” image, and had become a frequent playmate of Joe and I as we grew up. We used to enjoy s

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ome radical and mildly violent games of RISK, you know, in our quest for world domination.  I specifically remember one night when Nan got so upset with my penchant for total annihilation of my opponents; that she left the house only to return with a bucket full of water, and threw it on me in the middle of the family room.

Joe, Nan and I left town heading for parts unknown.  Now, both Nan and Joe had grown up or shall we say matured a little faster then yours truly.  I was always up for a gag or striving for a laugh.  Joe and I had rigged up an early model citizen’s band radio, in the Falvet Gt so we could listen to the jibber jabber of the area semi drivers on the highway. 

As we were driving along, down State Route 20 headed to parts unknown,  we decided to take a break from driving, stopping in a particularly scenic area along a river.  There was an old railroad Tressel which ran over the river, and appeared to offer a great view of the river and the area around it. I convinced Joe and Nan that we should climb to the top of the hill that the tracks ran across.  Once there, we could walk down the tracks till we were on the bridge overlooking the highway, and the river.   Being the unpronounced leader of our small group, it was generally believed (at least by me) that my ideas were solid and worthy of further investigation.

Joe, Nan and I made the easy climb to the top of the hill, and walked along the seemingly abandoned railroad tracks until we reached the decrepit bridge.  As usual, I was correct, we could see forever from the bridge.  The traffic traveling down the highway below seemed like ants. I accidentally kicked some gravel off of the bridge and thought it was funny when the cars below swerved to avoid the fallout.

Being somewhat immature,  and prone to stupid ideas on occasion, I told Joe we should take a stone (a small one of course) and see if we could take turns trying to hit a vehicle below.  Well, against Nan’s advice, and continuous complaints I went first, and dropped a stone which seemed small at the time.  I had a direct hit on an older model Cadillac convertible.  This was the beginning of what was to become a horrendous series of experiences.

First of all, the stone travelling that far with the assistance of gravity gained velocity, allot of velocity.  It hit the caddy and ripped a gaping hole in the convertible top. The Cadillac hit its brakes with the tires screeching, and squealing to an emergency stop.  The driver’s door opened, then the passenger door flew open, out jumped two, no,  three Mexican males who seemed quite upset.  One of the irate Chicanos looked upward directly at Joe, Nan, and I.  Within a matter of seconds the three of us ran frantically down the rotten old railroad ties kicking up dirt, dust and the rancid smell of creosote as we ran for our lives.

Adding to the excitement and panic of the moment,  we heard the rumbling sound of a train locomotive engine turning the corner and heading at a rapid pace onto the railroad bridge. “RUN, run”, yelled Nan as the three of us momentarily forgot about our three large, and very irate pursuers.  Needless to say, the three of us ran faster than we ever had before.   From one old black and smelly railroad tie to the next, the three of us sprinted for the far side of the bridge. The faster we ran, the faster the locomotive seemed to be gaining ground on us. 

I was historically the fastest, and reached the end of the bridge ready to jump onto the waiting hillside.  As I passed the last metal support, I turned to jump onto the hillside which I assumed would be there. No Way,  at the last minute I saw about a 20 foot drop straight down. Hoping that my two friends would follow my lead,  I grasped the air for anything to keep me from falling to a sure death.  I latched onto some type of support rail, which sent me spinning around the corner of the bridges metal framework.  Luckily,  Nan and Joe took note of my ill fated jump, and they stopped to assist me.  We cleared the end of the bridge and were just off the metal tracks as the train went whizzing by.

Having evaded a sure death by outracing the large and apparently angry freight engine, our thoughts returned to the three angry pursuers who initiated our escape.  The three of us ran for our lives to the car, still with the vision of three angry,  large Mexican males in apparent hot pursuit.

Just before our pursuers were able to navigate their way to our location, we peeled out on the loose gravel sending a shower of stones and dirt flying in all directions.  As we hit the main highway with the Falvet’s tires squealing, and sparks flying, we could see the Caddy pulling into our vacated location. The  three pursuers jumped from their car not realizing we had departed, and were frantically searching for their departed pranksters.  

Racing down the highway at a pace previously not believed to be within the parameters of a Falvet Gt, we began to breathe a sigh of relief.  We were now confident that our pursuers had been eluded.  Joe and I were in front, with yours truly manning the helm, and Nan sat in the rear seat still somewhat in shock.  After a few miles of expedient travel, we were confident our pursuers were no more than a bad memory.  It was starting to get dark, and the three of us compared our bank rolls to see what kind of luxurious accommodations we could afford for the night.

Just as we were about to start looking for a comfortable yet economical nighttime oasis from the days terrors, we heard the CB radio crackling. We tuned in a couple of different stations just to see what the truckers were yakking about.  Then suddenly, like they were speaking directly to the three of us, we heard: “You three little punks think you got away, but we’re right behind you, and we’ll find you. Count on it!”  Cold chills ran down our collective spines as the chilling words ran over and over through our minds.  You see, although with maturity Joe and I both have grown in stature, back then, we both weighed in at around 120lbs.  We were far from adequate size to do combat with three large and angry Chicano males.

“Hey guys, get real these assholes don’t have any idea who we are or where we are.  They’re just trying to get us to respond so they can figure out where we are.” I stated confidently to my two friends.  ”Yeah, that’s true they never saw us up close, or our car or anything.” Chimed in Joe.  ”Ok, Ok let’s just stop and get some rest, and we’ll worry about them tomorrow.” Agreed Nan somewhat sheepishly.  Shortly thereafter, we spotted a small Ma and Pa motel tucked discreetly away off of the main highway.

Being gentlemen, Joe and I agreed to get our own room, and share Nan’s expense for her private room.  The three of us sat together in Nan’s room watching TV, trying to put her at ease for the night’s rest ahead.  Once she seemed comfortable, Joe and I headed for our room next door.  Still suffering from the long,  hectic and tumultuous day, Joe and I zonked out as soon as our heads hit our pillows.

The next morning Joe and I hit the showers, and went next door to see if Nan had awoke yet.  After several minutes of knocking, then pounding on Nan’s door we did not get any response. The longer we knocked and pounded a sense of panic began to set in.  Joe stayed at the door trying to wake Nan, and I ran to the Motel office to try to raise her on the phone. As I stood patiently waiting for an answer on the phone,  I noticed my female friend walking calmly across the asphalt pavement. 

“Nanette, where the hell are you coming from?  Joe and I have been trying to wake you at your room!  We were worried those idiots from last night grabbed you or something!” I continued to shout not aware of my own panic.  ”No, I got up early and went to the diner, and ate breakfast, because I know you and Joe don’t like breakfast.  So, settle down.” Nan retorted confidently.   “Ok, but next time you let me know first.” I stated confident in the fact I was still in charge. 

I caught up with Nan and we walked to her room, laughing at the panic Joe and I felt still, one day removed from the hot pursuit.  We three were all well rested from our first day on the road, and headed out, back on the road.   Nan rode shotgun, and Joe road in the back seat, just to keep his eyes peeled for any sign of our Chicano pursuers.  We were clipping along at a brisk 60mph, which was about the red line area for the Falvet, with seemingly no cares in the world.  Every now and then, one of us would remember some funny detail about the previous day’s events, and we would all laugh. 

It became evident that the expression on my face, as I was hanging from the support rail, just after I realized there was no ground to land on, provided the most laughs.  Although, it was not really funny, and my latching onto the rail was pure luck, it did seem quite humorous one day removed.  As we traveled along the highway, we were confident we would not encounter our pursuers again.  There wasn’t allot of traffic on this road, and few Cadillacs were evident.  So, we kept on moving on down the road listening to records that would bounce and skip as we hit one bump after another.  However, in these prehistoric times, it was a blessing to have such quality tunes of our choosing. 

Not too long after we left the Ma and Pa motel behind us, we spotted a side road with a small sign indicating ‘Lake Manistee’.  Although it was true the Falvet Gt was a one of a kind, high performance automobile, it did lack some of the luxurious appointments of today’s machines.  No Air Conditioning.  Travelling down a state highway in a hot car,  that often times had dust devils sweeping back and forth across the lanes, made the vision of cool lake water sound inviting.  So, at the last minute I swung off of the highway, and onto an even dustier back road, which turned into a country lane.

The lake, Lake Manistee, was more like a glorified pond in a very scenic, but remote country setting.  We pulled to the side of the small lake, and started to disrobe forgetting that we had female company.   Before Joe or I could summon up a suitable suggestion for Nan, she started removing her clothing with little regard for modesty.  Joe and I left on our underwear, and Nan maintained some semblance of modesty, by just stripping down to her bra and panties.  Although Nan and I had been forced into several impromptu dates, I never realized that she had developed quite as well as was evident at that instance.

We three friends ran for the water, jumped in and swam in the cool and surprisingly clean lake water.  After being in a hot, dusty car with the hot Summer breezes blowing sand and dirt from the roadway all over our sweaty bodies, the lake was made to order for the three of us.  After gaining our fill of water sports, and feeling totally refreshed the three of us exited the cool lake water.  I guess I was first to notice that Nan’s bra and panties had totally blended with her skin, after being saturated with water for an hour or so.  I did as any good friend would do and tapped Joe, whose eyes focused on the well proportioned female friend before us.

Much to our chagrin, our lust filled approval of Nan’s privates caught her attention as she took note of our now engorged male organs,  The three of us in unison took our new found lust to the next level by removing the remainder of our clothing, and collapsing to the blanket we had placed our clothes on.  Years and years of pent up desire for the opposite sex was let loose, with first me,  then Joe having sex with our traveling partner.   Nan was certainly not a passive partner to the sexfest we three were engaged in.  Nan took turns pleasuring first me then Joe, as we took turns reciprocating. 

Needles to say pent up desire is quite easily satisfied when given the opportunity.  So, after fulfilling our personal fantasies, we dressed sans our under garments,  and again hit the road each viewing the other in a slightly different light.  For the first time on this haphazard trip Joe took control of the Falvet’s controls, while I kept Nan company in the rear of the vehicle.  As Joe drove and the warm breezes turned cool, I explored areas of Nan’s physical assets previously ignored, from the comfort of the back seat.  It was true that the focus of this trip had certainly changed course.

About 4 hours into the trip heading West, and cool and refreshed from the swim in the lake, and the sex on the lake’s sandy beach, we decided to tune in to the local trucker’s squawking on our CB radio.  For more than an hour all you heard was desperate truckers trying to get a call back from local hookers.  Then just before Joe was about to change channels, we heard: “hey boys we think we might like to get a piece of the Chiquita too”; “she likes to fuck you long time, ha, ha, ha”.  

Nan instantly panicked shouting “they saw us they saw us fucking by the lake!”  I responded “No, I’m sure they would have done something if they would have been there. They are just guessing, trying to get a rise out of us.”  I told Joe, “just stay off the radio, and keep driving, they don’t have any idea where we are, or I am sure they’d have jumped us.”  ”Oh Yeah, maybe they just liked watching?” responded Nan.  We drove hard and fast taking random turns and routes, but always heading West.  Finally, after a few hours of silence, we started looking for another Ma and Pa motel well out of the way of heavy traffic.

Joe pulled into a place called the Double A Motel and Restaurant.  It was kind of a dump, but it was well out of the way of tourist traffic.  This time we thought it might be smarter if we all stayed together, especially since familiarity was no longer a problem.  We pulled into the rear of the motel, and parked far away from our room. Once inside our sad retreat, we informed Nan that she’d have to choose one of us to sleep with, since we as homophobes could not sleep together. Nan quickly stripped down to her birthday suit, since her underwear had already been removed earlier. Joe and I still somewhat taken aback by Nan’s carefree attitude, and lack of modesty, just sat and watched. 

Nan had certainly grown into a very sexy girl, with round firm breasts, and tiny nipples, a perfect little peach like bottom, and a well manicured vagina.  She stood in front of the two of us, sitting side by side on our motel bed, and took note of our two erect penises.  Kneeling down in front of us, she took my penis into her mouth, and then Joe’s.  We were soon getting the impression, that Nan was not a novice when it came to performing fellatio.  As she took her time fondling our balls, and slowly running the tip of her tongue up and down the back of our members, we caressed her firm breasts and tight bottom.   Just as Joe was about to explode into her mouth, Nan pulled his member out and held it against her cheek.  My pulsating member was left firmly in her mouth and caressed repeatedly by her encircling tongue.  I exploded too, with Nan consuming every last drop.

Both Joe and I collapsed backward onto our bed.  Nan stood wiped off her face, and stepped into the shower.  Neither Joe or I could summon enough strength to sit erect.  As Nan finished soaping and sud sing her well toned physique, I grabbed a towel and dried off her tight ass and sexy legs.  One hand drifted from one boob to another, and my other hand massaged her vagina.  Nan took my hand and led me into the bedroom, and into her bed.  The attraction between Nan and I from childhood, was mostly prompted from her side, but I was soon rethinking my past ambivalence. 

As Nan and I kissed and groped at each others private parts, Joe took control of the shower and washed the dust and grime from his body.  By the time Joe had completed his shower, Nan and I had drifted off into a deep, satisfied slumber.   It proved to be a quiet night, and I awoke to find my sex partner had left the room again by herself.  Joe and I searched the motel property, and even questioned a waitress at the small diner.  The waitress was an older local lady, who remembered Nan eating breakfast there, but she did not dine alone.

The waitress named Georgia told Joe and I,  that Nan had been joined by two older males, who paid her bill and left arm in arm with Nan.  She stated that although Nan did not seem overly upset with their presence, she also did not seem pleased.  Joe and I were convinced that these were our Mexican pursuers, and that they had taken Nan as hostage for my foolish actions.  The waitress stated that she saw Nan get into an older Cadillac convertible with the two men, and head West on highway 80.  Joe and I grabbed our bags, and jumped into the Falvet Gt heading West at a rapid rate of speed. 

This time it was Joe and I who initiated verbal contact using the CB radio.  For hours we took turns shouting into the CB trying to initiate a contact so we could negotiate Nan’s release. Our search was further complicated and delayed by our need to search all possible bars, motels and hideaways.  Just as we were about to call the police or sheriffs, we could hear a crackling on the CB. Joe turned the radio up and we could hear a male with a Mexican accent saying: ” Joe, James we have your little Conchita’s”, and then we could hear a females voice breathing deeply and saying “stick it in me, fuck me, fuck me hard.”  It appeared to be Nan’s voice.  It appeared that they had accidentally left the microphone key locked open.

Joe and I pulled the Falvet to the side of the lonely highway, we turned the radio all the way up and listened for anything that would provide us with a hint of their location.  All we could hear was alternate cries of ecstasy and then fear and anger, which we assumed belonged to our friend Nan.  Then finally, we could hear what appeared to be heavy equipment.  We both heard that obnoxious sound of a large piece of equipment makes when it is driving in reverse.  We quickly got back on the highway, and realized that the further West we travelled the CB signal seemed to get louder and stronger.  I had my head almost tight to the CB’s speakers listening intently, and suddenly Joe jammed the brakes to the floor. 

The car pulled to the left, and the rear end went spinning forward off of the road and into loose stone and dirt on the side of the road.  When we finally came to a stop, I pulled myself off of the floor, and was about to yell at Joe and ask him what the hell he was doing.  Joe just looked at me and pointed to a small sign partially covered by weeds and vines, that clearly said “Mar——Quarry”.  He looked at me and I said “I don’t know, but we got to check and see.”  Joe put the Falvet in gear and we crept along the side of the road until we saw a path that was partially hidden by weeds and trees, with an old rusty metal barricade blocking entrance to the quarry.

I pushed open the barricade, and Joe and I pulled down the path slowly and surely. About a quarter mile down the road, we both heard noisy equipment, and allot of yelling and clapping.  We pulled the Falvet behind some growth of weeds and trees, and walked covertly down the path in the direction of the noise.  There was an abundance of rocks and boulders that we could hide behind as we searched for the source of the disturbance, which we were sure was our Mexican pursuers. 

As we rounded the corner of this makeshift mountain of rubble, rocks and boulders, we saw 3 then 4 then 5 males laughing and drinking beer, and clapping and yelling Spanish slurs of some kind.  Then we saw Nan, she was being led to a large flat boulder, which she was placed on top of.  The men yelled slurs and clapped wildly, as Nan began to do a impromptu strip tease.  She danced and turned around and removed her blouse then her pants and shoes.  As the men clapped and jeered, she removed her bra, and then her panties still dancing seductively for the older males.

One of the men approached Nan, then swept her up into his arms and laid her on an old dirty mattress next to the rock/stage.  First one, then two, and then a third male stood and removed their clothing.  One man stuck his head between Nan’s pale white thighs, as she moved her head from side to side moaning with delight.  Another man knelt down next to her head using his penis to massage her lips and face.  Nan willingly opened her lips, and took his large tan member eagerly into her mouth.  The third Mexican male was naked, and had his balls and penis being massaged and jacked off by our female friend.  Joe and I were at first shocked, then sexually aroused, taking note that Nan seemed a willing participant in the debauchery.

As the first Mexican male removed his face from between Nan’s thighs, she removed the second males penis from her mouth and tried to pull it into her waiting vagina.  We were shocked when we heard her yell: “Fuck me you bastards fuck me!”  The third man was so aroused by this talk, and Nan’s manipulation of his cock, that he ejaculated all over Nan’s chest and face.  The first man who had been performing cunnilingus on our female friend, moved next to her head, and she quickly consumed his member with her lips and tongue.  

At this point Joe and I both had throbbing penises and confused libidos.  It wasn’t readily apparent if Nan was kidnapped or a willing object of these Mexican Male’s lust.   She certainly appeared to be making the best of a bad situation, and seemed to be enjoying the attention of these Mexican brutes who had pursued us for two days.   Joe and I snuck off to a remote location, where we could decipher our pursuers intent, and what to do to assist Nan, or if she even wanted to be assisted. 

As we sat and listened and watched, Nan finished off the three original captors, as she eagerly invited the last two to join in the sexual orgy.  Realizing that Joe and I were unable to engage in a combative encounter with these five large Chicanos, we just sat and watched and waited.  As the sun gradually sank behind the clouds, and dusk was fast approaching, the men finished their sexual encounter with our friend Nan.  Two of the men got into an old rusty blue Chevy pickup, and drove quickly from the quarry.  Nan was still wantonly sexually involved with the last three men, our apparent pursuers from the old Cadillac.  Finally, one man, then the next, and then the last stood and dressed, got into the Cadillac, and pulled out of the old quarry spinning their wheels and throwing a barrage of stone and dust high into the air.

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Joe and I gradually made our way to a spot where we could observe the distant roadway, and took note that the Mexicans had pulled onto the highway, and were apparently not returning to the scene.  We climbed down the makeshift boulder mountain, and approached Nan, who was still laying motionless on the filthy mattress.  Nan didn’t move but was totally naked, with her legs spread far apart, and covered by dust, dirt, cum and urine.  ”Nan, are you OK honey?  Can you get up?” I inquired sheepishly.  ”Fuck me Jim, you and Joe fuck me, I want to suck your hard cocks.”  

Well, believe me there was little doubt that after the scene we had witnessed for the better part of that afternoon, and Nan’s current comments, it took all we could do to clean her up, and dress her without complying with her requests. She didn’t resist our efforts to clean and dress her, but her hands were constantly in search of our private parts.  Once we got her ready to move, Joe sprinted to get the Falvet, and I carried her to the car placing her in the backseat. 

The three of us drove fast and furious, as we changed our direction heading Northwest.  We were sure that our pursuers had accomplished their goal, and were no longer looking for revenge, but we did not want to take any chances.  We stopped at another Ma and Pa motel for the night.  Joe and I undressed Nan, and gave her a bath.  Nan had still failed to acknowledge her attack or that Joe and I were washing and drying her naked body.  Again that night I slept with Nan, but for a much different reason.  Most of the night I held her and consoled her, as she would occasionally whimper in her sleep. 

The next day Nan awoke, seemingly refreshed and ambivalent to the previous days events.  Neither Joe nor I could muster the courage to tell Nan we saw the entire sexual orgy, and her over eager participation. Part of the problem was, that other than an older model Cadillac convertible, neither Joe nor I could identify any of the five dirty, older Mexican males, that she so willingly engaged in sex with.  So, we continued on down the road, trying to overcome the scene we had witnessed and Nan participated in.  Neither Joe nor I had any further sexual encounters with Nan on that trip.  Sex had suddenly became the last thing any of us were interested in doing, or talking about. 

When we got back home, Nan and I stayed in contact for a little while, maybe sharing a beer or an occasional movie.  Then without any explanation or excuses Nan and I seemed to drift apart.  Joe and I stayed in contact over the years, but we both moved to different parts of the country.  Occasionally, I would have nightmares about my old girlfriend, and wake up crying for no particular reason.  Joe and I never really spoke about this wild trip, or our old friend Nan, it was just never brought up.

Then one day at work, a co-worker and friend of mine mentioned that an old classmate of ours from back home had died quite unexpectedly.  I kind of ignored him at first until he said “hey, you knew Nan didn’t you Jim?”  ”Nan, you mean Nan from Freetown?” I inquired.  ”Yeah, that’s her name Nan from Freetown, didn’t you date her or something?” he retorted.   “No, no we didn’t date, but I knew her, why what’s wrong with her?”  I replied.  ”Nothing, she ain’t got no more problems Jim, she blew her head off with a 10 gauge, she’s dead!” he continued.

Cold, ice cold shivers ran up my spine.  I just dropped my tools and walked out the door. “Nan, sweetie what happened to you, why would you do that?” I thought to myself.  Then it came back, first in small waves then an overwhelming sadness and guilt.  Over the next few days I heard all the stories, how Nan was married and divorced, had a kid and left it with her mom.  All the nasty, crummy filthy details of her life after the “wild ride” with Joe and I.  I didn’t know if it was our fault, or her encounter with the Mexicans, or a bad marriage.  Rumors were circulating that she had moved to Chicago and was performing in porn movies.  I was down, real down.  I tried to contact Joe, and get his take on the situation, but he had slipped out of sight.  I felt guilty, and sad, and mad, real mad. 

I had been involved in the martial arts for some 15 plus years at this point, and I was one of the primary self defense instructors for the Army Rangers during the Vietnam War.  I competed in martial arts tournaments, won trophies, and became quite proficient in self defense.  All of the fear, and hate, and confusion over Nan’s death, and the “wild ride” came back.  The more time went by, the more confused and mad I got.  

Without knowing it, I gradually moved West, with the memory of our “Wild Ride” still running through my thoughts and dreams.  The more this happened, the more I was convinced it was Joe and I and the Mexicans who ruined that poor girls life.  Just an innocent, young, sweet girl we all used for our sexual release, then abandoned her.  Without realizing it, I had wandered back into the area where the awful memories originated. All of a sudden, I found myself searching motel lots, bars, restaurants looking for an old caddy convertible.  I mean it was crazy.  This had happened 10, no closer to 20 years earlier.  Here I was searching for the perpetrators of this rape-orgy.

I even found the sight of the orgy/ I located the old abandoned quarry where Nan pleasured those five Chicano males. I managed to make some friends with the local Bureau of Motor Vehicles throwing out occasional facts just to see how willing they were to help.  I let it be known that I was looking for an older caddy with the big fenders. I made pretend that I was kind of a collector hoping to complete my collection.  Finally, after a few long months, I was told by one of my BMV friends, that there was basically only 2 or 3 Caddies from that time period anywhere around that part of this small farm state.

Still living off of my accumulated savings I checked out the first Caddie.  It was the wrong color and not a convertible.  The next Caddie I found outside an old rundown apartment complex.  This one appeared to be the right color, year, and it was a convertible.  I started to stake out the Caddie, follow the Caddie, dwell on the Caddie and who used it.  It didn’t take long to recognize the fact that the car was parked in an area heavily populated with Mexican Americans.  It didn’t take long, and I saw the first Mexican male, who although older, looked allot like one of the pursuers.

I noticed that he liked to frequent a bar in a dirty, crummy part of town, with patrons to match.  One night I visited this shit hole of a bar, and cozied up to the Caddy’s owner.  I knew a little Spanish, and bought some drinks, and we became fast friends.  Well, Pedro became real talkative after quite a few Tequila’s.  We got talking about wild times, and wild women.  Pedro told me about an experience he and his friends had many years earlier, where they picked up this white girl who just couldn’t get enough brown dick.  He laid the whole scene out for me, and mentioned a few first names too.

So, Pedro and I left the bar together, and I let him believe I knew where a party was with allot of wild girls.  Pedro was all ears and ready to party.  Well, contrary to Pedro’s beliefs, I drove to a remote location on a back-road, by an old abandoned quarry.  Pedro started to catch on when I stopped almost exactly where the orgy/rape of my friend Nan took place. As Pedro exited my truck, he came out swinging, evidently not as dumb as I had thought.  I took him in an arm lock spun him against the side of the truck, and asked for details of that night.  Pedro refused, and I snapped his arm like an old tree limb.

As the night progressed, Pedro consistently refused to cooperate in providing the names of his fellow partners in crime.  I wasn’t very patient and in no mood to bargain with this scum, so I broke his leg, than a finger.  Soon, Pedro was singing my tunes, and all the names flowed forward.  When I was satisfied he wasn’t lying I broke his neck.  I took his old Caddie, and drove it around town for awhile.  Word travels fast in a small Hispanic community.  I decided to go straight to his watering hole, and end this charade.  I pulled into the shithole of a bar, good ole Pedro liked to frequent. 

As I walked into the bar one of the patrons inquired why I was driving his friend Pedro’s car. I broke his jaw, and slammed him violently to the floor making him expel any air he still had in his lungs. He was Chicano number two so I broke his nose and crushed his trachea.  Needless to say the rest of the bars patrons either fled or wanted to get involved. As it turned out the bar belonged to Pedro’s brother and one of the Five, he pulled a shotgun from behind the bar, which I used to leverage him and the gun over the bar and onto the floor.  Those were the original three pursuers, from the railroad bridge, the Diner and the Quarry.  I used his gun to crush his skull, but not until after he gave me the last two names I needed.,

As I left the bar, I pulled the Caddie in through the front wall and out the back and back in again.  I parked the Caddie, lit a bar napkin and tossed it into the leaking gas.  As I pulled away I could see the explosion in my rear view mirror, and the fire raging out of control.

I wasn’t done though, that was just three out of five, with two to go. It turns out that the last two males were also brothers and Pedro’s cousins. I arrived at their apartment just as the first male named Hector was coming out the front door. I punched Hector in the throat, and crushed his knee with one of my favorite martial arts techniques.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but Hector and his brother were quite a bit younger than Pedro.  This was obvious by looking at them, and listening to their cries for mercy. Hector and I sat and waited for his older brother to return to the apartment.  Hector knew he was gonna die, so I told him why he was gonna die.  At first he denied his participation, and that of his brothers. However, when he realized his time was over, he let loose with the old God forgive me routine.

I could hear a car arrive just outside the apartment’s door. I could see a figure approach the front door, and the alteration to the light pattern shining under the front door.  Hector’s brother first knocked then called for Hector.  When he failed to get an answer he charged through the front door, as I held his brother in my arms in front of me.  He attempted to raise his gun as I shot four slugs through his brother and into his chest.  He was the last one of the Five.  When it got dark, I threw the two dead brothers into my truck and hauled them to the quarry.  I threw the bodies on the rock stage next to Pedro.  I took a can of gas from my truck and saturated their bodies.  I sat and smoked a Macanudo till it was good and hot, and tossed it onto the dead bodies.  The stench from the burning flesh made me vomit, but I waited until the fire went out, and then I left.

This was the end of a bad time, an innocent time that went haywire.  An innocent child that had just started growing up, but who was so badly damaged, so badly hurt,  that she could no l

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onger live with herself or her memories.  I wanted to do more.  I wanted to change the past, but there was no more I could do.  I went to Nan’s grave and prayed for her forgiveness.  

No one ever knew how the fingers of five Hispanic males from hundreds of miles away ended up on a grave stone of a dead porn star.   I knew, and that was good enough.  Joe and I got together a few times over the years, but we never discussed Nan or what had happened.  I don’t know if Joe ever heard about the fingers on the headstone, but he never said anything to me, or asked me about them.  All he ever did was look me in the eyes and say Thank You.  That was the last time I saw Joe.