Bad Boys, Bad Boys, Watchoo Gonna do...

I figure since the Pope has gone on to reap the fruits of his labor I should post a story that involves a religious holiday. Sort of.

Family functions have never really been my cup of tea, even worse were STEP-family functions! At least at family functions you were miserable at the same table for dinner, or in the same room sitting around each other. Actually it was my step-mookie's family functions that sucked the veins out of a penis, although there were about 3 people in her family that must have been adopted because they were as cool as the ice age. SOOO, Step-family functions were bullshit! Up until I was about 16 my sisters and I were always banished to sit in the kitchen with the "kids." Now these were the full blooded "family" kids and the closest one to the age of me and my sisters was about...oh...7! Must I even mention that after 16 I boycotted going to step-family functions? I thought not.

My moms family were usually the ones I spent most holiday's with. Most of the time I would go to these with my cousin Philly Blunts because we were tighter than a dolphins butthole, usually finding ways to entertain ourselves and others when put in boring situations. Mostly ourselves though. You'd think that my mothers family would be a hoot to hang with just from the looks of them, but oh no! The only regular ones, well - from my standards at least, were my uncle Leo, me Mum, Grandy Gram Grandma (not the shit bucket one), my sisters and one or two rarely seen cousins. The others looked like someone shook out a carnival tent in the house. I'd get into details but it'd take longer than my usual diatribes. Here's a quick rundown: some cousins were "braniacs" who never really knew anything except what chat rooms were good to meet obese girls in. One aunt thought that erections were made just for her because every guy got one when they met her! I think this had something to do with her mannish chubby body, know it all attitude, lack of a secure job and sexy ass mustache. ME-OW! Another aunt was cool when we were kids and hopelessly pathetic when we were adults. She was the "baby" of the family and never paid a bill with her own money in her life, yet she was always depressed and moochie. Both aunts LOVED going to the renaissance faire and even worked there for kicks! The uncles consisted of one white trash drunk who wore aviator style eye-glasses like the ones Jeffrey Dahmer sports in his photo's, plus he drank like a fish. Another uncle was a Vietnam vet so this gave him the right to treat me like I was a total idiot who would never last in "the shit", nor the real world. He was also built like a snowman with the middle ball missing. There were others, but this is the bulk of the misery.

When we were kids it always seemed blissful to go to Grandma's house for holidays. For some reason as we get older our insight matures as well and things turn to shit. We all knew we had nothing in common, but no one ever wanted to admit it. My cousin and I knew perfectly well that our family was as entertaining as watching a cow eat so when we got older booze and joints were a must have before stepping into the octagon. For some odd reason the family LOVED when we would get plowed! It provided some form of entertainment I guess?

One special Easter Sunday it was time to go to Grandma's house for a tortureous holiday gathering. Trust me, if Jesus had to go to my Grandma's house for Easter even HE would have said "screw it" and saved his resurrection for another day. I was barely 16 and Philly Blunts was 19, but we were very mature for our age. So mature that during this time we had purchased a nickel plated B.B. gun because 1) it was cheap 2) it cocked like a gun 3) Richard Grieco used one like it on his hit show "Booker"! We would drive around town shooting cats (THAT'S RIGHT! I HATE CATS!!) and random targets. We were so into this B.B. gun that we made sure it made it's way to the Easter extravaganza. We also had a more powerful B.B. rifle that couldn't be left behind either. It was a no brainer that things would get so boring that we would need to shoot up cans and cats at some point of the visit.

Grandma lived in La Puente, and if you can't figure it out from the name alone...it's pretty much a ghetto. The houses and neighborhood were probably the picture of suburban living in the 50's, but the 50's were long ago. Now the neighborhood was filled with homies, cha cha girls and anyone who just arrived from Mexico. My Grandmothers street seemed to have the best La Puente had to offer. On one side of my Grandmothers house were a family we lovingly called "The Cooties." Now this isn't a name us kids made up, no, this name was given by our parents...when THEY were kids! The one thing I can say our family unanimously agreed on was that we hated The Cooties! They were your normal Mariachi music blasting Mexican family and it was pretty obvious they hated us for generations too. I always wondered if they had a nickname for our family? The other side of my Granny's house was filled with what was safe to assume were illegal aliens. This house was HORRIBLE! It was very similar to the house that the kids meet their demise in from "the Blair Witch Project." The front yard looked like it was the victim of a mushroom cloud explosion and the back yard looked like it's where all the rubble landed. The residents of this wondrous property were spilling out of the windows because there were so many of them. So many in fact that my Grandmother told me she saw the oldest lady walk out the kitchen door, squat, pull her dress up to her knees and proceeded to sprinkle the lawn with sweet sweet urine! Ah, viva la raza. Enough about the neighborhood, you get the point.

Once we get to Grandmaster Flash's house we give our greetings and do what other people do at these things...EAT! This was one of the only perks of family functions. No matter how much people hate each other or how boring you know things will be, people always know that good food will take the edge off. Easter guaranteed a ham and mashed potatoes would be there, along with pastries of some sort and plenty of it! So we feasted like Kings...then we got bored.

Knowing we had the guns in the car my cousin and I give each other "the nod". After thinking about it a while we decided that shooting B.B. guns there at the house would only invite my goofy cousins to join in which would probably bring us down like the WTC. Lucky for us my grandmother lived around the corner from an elementary school. We excuse ourselves from the suare' (to be honest I don't know what reason we gave for leaving, but we left) and jump in my cousins van and head for the school.

On the way there we discussed what kind of rootin tootin fun we could have. The sky pretty much told us our time was limited so we had to think of something quick. I think my cousin came up with the genius idea, I just got excited at the prospect of it. The idea you ask? Well, we figured why waste our time sitting around shooting targets when we could just shoot at each other?! Yeah that's right EACH OTHER! Pretty good huh? It was a better plan than when we thought it would be fun to throw firecrackers at each other. I almost blew a finger off and Philly Blunts tossed one about an inch from my ear when it blew up. Yes, B.B. guns would be much safer. We both wore glasses so our eyes would be safe at least.

With lightning speed my cousin pulls into the school parking lot and we can't wait to let the games begin. First we needed to lay down some ground rules, after all, we were adults! Rule #1) NO SHOOTING IN THE FACE! Rule #2) NO PUMPING THE RIFLE MORE THAN 3 TIMES! This rule was made because the pistol had limited power and could barley shoot through a can. The rifle on the other hand could shoot straight through a can! Those were all the rules we needed, now we had to decide who got which gun. Smart money says you should go for the rifle, but idiots who are about to shoot each other go for the nickel plated "Booker" pistol! There was no doubt you'd look cooler running around with a pistol than a rifle, so it was a pretty easy choice. My cousin pulled rank though and shattered my dreams of getting all 21 Jumpstreet on his ass! Rules and guns were set, now it was go time!

We walk into the quad of the school and it's a shooters paradise. All around there are trees and plenty of brick walls to hide behind. Fluorescent lights lit up the corners of the quad so seeing your target would be a cinch. Not having even been in the quad 5 mins. we look at each other, then break out running from each other not knowing who would shoot first! As I'm running with my back to my cousin I hear him cock his gun and it makes me get that feeling in my stomach like I was dropping down a roller coaster. We are both laughing and I duck behind a tree. I'm about to look around it to see where my cousin is hiding when WHACK! I hear a B.B. hit the tree! I laugh out loud and I sit back behind the tree. ONE, TWO, THREE I quickly count in my head as I pump the air rifle. I cock a B.B. into the chamber and start my retaliation. I run around the corner of a brick wall and as I'm running I could hear B.B. flying around me along with the sound of my cousin rapidly cocking the pistol. Philly Blunts was no slacker with a B.B. pistol, he was definitely someone to be reckoned with and I had to be quick. Holding the rifle upright against my chest and the barrel pointed to the sky listening for the sounds of him shuffling around. I turn the corner and see him trying to run behind a tree and I shoot! MISS! DAMMIT! I blew the shot! As I fuming with anger I feel a sting in my leg and jump around and then behind another brick wall. I was hit! I had to get him back, the fucker! I cock the gun again and rush out to the battle field. This time I run closer and he's laughing hysterically while he runs from me. PHWACK! I shoot wildly and hit him in the arm! "AAAAAH!", he yells and I start convulsing with laughter as I run for cover! We were even now.

The shooting went on for a good half hour and we both shot each other up pretty good. It was starting to get dark and even though the outside lights were on, it was gonna be hard to see each other soon. I see my cousin behind a wall while I'm hiding behind a tree when all the sudden we both jump out from our hiding spaces to face each other western style. My gun goes off first but only by seconds, then I hear a shot followed by a hot sting above my cheek just below my eye. Now, I know my cousin was probably flinching as much as I was when he shot, but he still shot me in the face. I put my hand up to my cheek and touch the hot stinging spot on my face while staring at my cousin in shock. He starts to walk towards me and it had gotten so quiet I could hear every twig snap as he approached. He has a look of shock on his face too and has his gun to his side. Neither one of us has said a word yet and I'm just standing there leering at my cousin while touching my slightly bleeding wound. My cousin, only a couple of feet ahead of me now (still with his gun to his side) raises his eyebrows and shoulders while making a face that says "oopsie!" as he sees my wound is bleeding. It was only a small trickle of blood, if that, but when he made that face I knew what I had to do. Something must have clicked in my cousin's head too because he stopped in his tracks looking at me. "WE SAID NO SHOOTING IN THE FACE!", I exclaim, "now I get to shoot you!" I quickly start to pump away at the gun with furious speed. Philly Blunts could tell by the speed I was pumping I wasn't going to stop at 3, and he was right. "...5, 6, 7" I count in my head while staring at my cousin. He turns on his heels and start to run like he was running for his life! "...9, 10!!!" I lift the stock of the gun to my shoulder and take aim. Running away from me at full speed I focus on my cousins back...and FIRE! His arms flail up in the air as he screams "OWWW!" The sight of this just cracks me up and I start laughing so hard there is no sound coming out of my mouth. "There! Now we're even!" I tell him.
"Fuck that hurt! How many times did you pump it?!"
"10"
"Wha! Damn, that was way harder than the B.B. I hit you with" and he starts rubbing the small of his back. He lifts his shirt and tells me to take a look. After I catch a glimpse of my handy-work I again fold over with laughter. Right in the small of his back was a purple little circle with a spot of blood in the middle. My cousin gripes a little more, then we laugh it off and decide to head home because it was already dark, not to mention Easter was still going on at Grandma's.

Walking side by side out of the quad while cracking ourselves up telling each other our favorite highlights of the shoot out we see a car with really bright headlights coming towards us. We were just barely towards the front of the school near the parking lot when the car drives over the curb and onto the grass while still charging our way.
"Who the hell is that?" I say
"Maybe it's uncle Leo?", replies Philly Blunts while squinting through the lights trying to identify the driver.
"Dunno, but they're coming pretty fast"

The car stops about 20 feet in front of us and a flood light on the drivers side comes on almost blinding us. With posture like two Velociraptors and still holding our guns like Hill Billy's protecting our land, we continue to "walk towards the light" with looks of curiosity on our faces. Suddenly the passenger and drivers side doors fly open as two men charge out and yell to us "DROP YOUR GUNS!" Now the average Joe would instantly drop their guns without question, not us though, we were grown ass men! We take a couple more steps towards these mystery men as I mutter "wha... who are they" to Philly Blunts. After our next few steps we finally see through the glare of their blazing lights and notice they are both holding guns...and have them pointed right at us! Now in our defense these guys never identified themselves so how were we supposed to know who they were? "DROP YOUR DAMN GUNS!" They command us once again. This time we drop our guns and my cousin yells "they're just B.B. guns!" but I think the comment was moot by this point. As soon as the guns hit the floor the cops are on us a like a horny puppy grabs a leg. I get man handled a bit and then thrown to the ground. My cousin joins me a few seconds later then the cops yell for us to put our hands out in front of us and proceed to frisk us. Again we tell the swine that we just had B.B. guns, not real guns, but they seem deaf to our explanations. I don't know about Philly Blunts, but my cop was a little bit on the rough side and I practically have my face in the dirt. I wish I could say we were cool as cucumbers during this whole scenario, but to be honest we just had expressions on our faces like we were kids who heard thunder for the first time.

One cop stands in front of us, gun still drawn and pointed at us, when he tells the other pig "go check it out. I got them covered." Things must have been pretty tame that Easter for these gun toting bastards to act like they just caught Carmen Sandiego or something. The other cop heads for the quad, mag-light blaring while his other hand rests on the handle of his gun in the holster. My cousin and I look at each other as if to say "huh?" What did they think we were doing. We hear our captors walkie talkie squeak out "it's clean, there's nothing here", or whatever tough cop dialogue they gawk to each other, and Piggy McCopper tells up to stand up. Cop #2 walks back out towards us and we are put up against the cop car as Cop #1 picks up our guns. With a confidence that says "we cracked the case" Pig #1 tells Pig #2, "They're just B.B. guns." WHA?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME! This guy was an effing genius! Cop #2, who was in charge of my cousin, picks up the "Booker" pistol, examines it, then whistles and shakes his head a couple of times.
"Why didn't you guys drop your guns when we told you?"
"Well, we didn't know who you were? We just saw you driving up?"
"You know you two almost got shot!"
"um...yeah?"
"Where do you two live!"
"In Anaheim, but my Grandmother lives around the corner. We're at her house for Easter" my cousin explains
"Do you know how stupid it is to walk around with guns at an elementary school?!"
(Yes we did officer, but we were at a family function!) "Sorry, we were just shooting at each other? Not any windows or anything" I say, like that would be the smart statement that made us look like champs.
"Why don't you two go on back to your Grandmothers house"
This is where the our grown up skills kick in "Officer, can we have our guns back?" my cousin asks.
"...I should confiscate these from you two and make you come to the station to get them!" he preaches as he hands them back, "now go home"

With shame on our shoulders we hunch over and walk back to my cousins van. We buckle up while watching the cops pull off the lawn onto the street and drive away into the night. We were pretty quiet for a couple of seconds on the ride back to hell house when I break the silence with "DUUUDE! WE ALMOST GOT FUCKING SHOT! HOLY SHIT!" My cousin gets a big Cheshire cat grin on his face and hunches over while snickering with hysteria. "OH MAN! I didn't even know who the fuck they were when they pulled up!", he laughs out to me.
"No shit! I thought it was Uncle Leo or something!"
"Did you see when he picked up my "Booker gun?"
"Yeah, he was checking it out and then whistled because it looked real!" tee hee hee.

We continue to relive the moment all the way back to Grandma's house. When we walk into the front door everyone looks at us and someone asks "where were you two?"
"SHEEE-IT! We were at the school almost getting shot by cops!", I answer
"Yeah, we were just roughed up by the fuzz", Philly Blunts chimes in.
With a look of confusion and disbelief on their faces we tell the tale of the incident to the family. I think my older sister chimed in with something supportive like "You guys are idiots!" or something like that, while the other just shook their heads. My Grandmother was the only one who seemed sincerely amused by the whole incident and took in every word of our tale. She even laughed! We didn't care if the family thought we were idiots, we were too impressed with the fact that we "didn't" get shot that it just rolled off our backs when they shot us looks of shame. Years later we would find out that the family, with the exception of those mentioned earlier, thought we were indeed idiots and vocalized this to each other. Recently my mother confessed that they used to say "we worry about Phil and Damon. Man, those two...umph!" As if to say we were barely above the level of retarded. Oh well, we don't see much of them anymore so it doesn't really matter now. But that's another story for another time.

So how does this apply to the pope and religion? Well, if Jesus never got up and rolled that damn boulder out of the way to leave his cave and get his basket of chocolate bunnies and peeps then we'd never have Easter! If we didn't have Easter then we wouldn't have had to go to my Grandmother's house that day. If we hadn't gone to her house that day then we'd never have been roughed up by the fuzz. Finally, if there was no fuzz, then there'd be not action packed story for you to read! See, it's just that simple. Thank GOD for Easter!

DJB