Hipster Intelligence Agency

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Baltimore Stories (5)

So Dave and I are driving through suburban Maryland, on the way back from Columbia. I’m kind of nervous, what with the 500 hits of LSD I have tucked inside a magazine in my backpack on the back seat. I mean even if a cop were to pull us over and search the car thoroughly, it’s not like he’s likely to flip through every page of every magazine and book I have. Dogs can’t smell LSD. But you know, this is seriously felony shit. I’m just nervous is all, in fact, I’m kind of sweating bullets.

Dave is telling me about Debbie. He’s been in love with this girl for years and she could take or leave him honestly. I think they have been “seeing each other” on and off for a while. He’s going on and on about what a bitch she is, how she did something that pissed him off, but how he really loves her, you know, she’s a sweet girl under all the bitchiness.


I never had the heart to tell him that I had fucked Debbie on and off for the last year. We had hooked up at a few parties and she had been a semi-regular visitor to the pussy house. I mean I wasn’t really that into her and she wasn’t really that into me, but it was fun and exciting for both of us to pretend to just be random acquaintances when we were hanging out with the crowd, then behind closed doors fuck like bunny rabbits. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body to die for. She was kind of like this Ice Princess type. Oh yes, she had a sharp tongue and could be a real bitch. She was, in fact, a heartbreaker, she knew it and enjoyed it. She toyed with various boys that put her on a pedestal. In fact, I think that’s why she liked fucking me, because I knew what she was, I mean, I was never fooled by her act. Oh sure, oh yes, I found her very attractive, no doubt. Very. And I thought she was smart and funny, it’s just that she wasn’t really my “type” personality wise. Her dad was some sort of spooky type. She was probably a genius, always got straight A’s, in gifted and talented classes, and her mom worked for NASA working on the Space Shuttle.

She had latched onto me before I even moved to Baltimore, in fact, she lived just north of my hometown, in the really ritzy part of the county. She had gone to the high school a few towns north where all the rich kids went. She knew my buddy and he had introduced us. It took us meeting twice, she invited me over to her a party at her parents house, got me drunk, and fucked my brains out. I mean she just got on top of me and rode me, hell, I barely did anything. So every once in a while we would hook up and when my buddy and I moved to Pussy House she would party with us occasionally. So actually I think Dave had known her since middle school or something and he was carrying around that torch for her forever. As for her, she was fucking half the county but Dave never knew. Or maybe he did know, he just didn’t want to think about it. Guys can be awfully dumb when it comes to women, I swear.

Not me though. I dunno, I never really “fell in love” when I was young. I never really fell in love until I met Marge years later.

So we’re driving down the street and Dave is going on and on about Debbie this and Debbie that, etc. All of a sudden, we see the flashing lights behind us and hear an ear splitting siren.

I freak the hell out.

“Dave you stupid fuck! What are you doing are you speeding? Oh shit, oh fuck Jesus Christ fuck fuck fuck. Just stay calm!”

I’m sweating bullets. My heart is fucking racing.

Dave pulls over. He says, “look don’t worry I’ll probably just get a ticket. Damn it there goes my fucking insurance!”

That was the thing about Dave. He was very disarming. He just came across as friendly and slightly goofy, very self-effacing and non-threatening. He could just pull out that goofy “who me?” act and get away with all sorts of shit. He was a junkie but at this point it was early in his self-destruction.

It all started with what they called “China White” – this really high quality white powder heroin you snorted up your nose. I did it a few times and wow, let me tell you, it was fucking great. In fact, it was so great that I remember thinking to myself, “this is exactly how people get addicted to very bad shit. Don’t do this.” I did it maybe three times then I’d just turn it down. Dave though, he went all in. He was I dunno maybe 23 and was a “computer hacker” – this back in the days when computers were really new and virtually no one had them or knew anything about them. He had already been investigated by the FBI for “hacking” into some bank. The story he told me, it was fucking amazing. He had “hacked” into the security system of this bank and turned off the alarms. Then, him and his buddy drove up to the bank and stole thousands of dollars worth of computer equipment, kept much of it and tried to pawn the other stuff. You know, smart in some ways but dumb in others, he got caught trying to fence a fax machine or something. So he was on probation for a while but they never drug tested him because it wasn’t a drug crime and it was a first offense. Or maybe he was off probation at that point, I don’t remember. He had been caught when he was still like 17, a minor, so first offense it was a slap on the wrist. Plus, I suspect his dad being high up in some Spook Agency no doubt helped.

Anyway we’re sitting there for what seems like forever. Dave had pulled over to the side of the road and the cop had pulled in behind us, his light flashing. I mean it was at least five minutes but it seemed like an hour to me. We’re just waiting for this cop to get out of the car. When we finally see the cop’s car door open in the rear view mirror, we notice that he “happens” to be Black.

Oh shit. Black cops love nothing more than fucking with White boys. You know, they get off on the kick of being in charge and scaring Whitey. They get to take out their racial resentment on helpless random White citizens.

But you see, me? I’m sort of a student of human nature. Now you think this is stupid, you think this is too hackneyed to work. I tell Dave, “check this out.” I grab my box of tapes – cassette tapes, remember those – and pull out a mix I have of Motown music. You know, that old Black music from the 1960s, the Four Tops, the Temptations, Diana Ross. I mean I always loved that shit anyway, and I figured, hey, middle aged black cop? He probably loves that shit too. So I put the tape in the tape player and start jamming “Can’t Get Next To You” on a low volume but loud enough that the cop can hear it.

So he comes up to the car, Dave rolls his window down, the cop shines his flash light in our face and says, “hey do you know why I stopped you?” Dave says, “I don’t know, was I speeding officer? Sorry about that.” The cops says, “yeah you took that turn too fast.” License and registration. Dave pulls out his wallet, gives his license to the cop, and says to me, “hey open the glove box and hand me my registration.”

So I open the glove box, and out rolls a large plastic bag full of some sort of leafy green substance and lands in my lap.

Now? Now I just about shit myself. Dave looks at the plastic bag in my lap. The cop shines his light on the plastic bag. At this point I’m like, “oh great, Dave has a fucking pound of weed in his fucking glove box, now we’re both going to jail and they will no doubt find the LSD. This is federal “pound me in the ass” prison time. I’m just a skinny 17 year old white boy from the suburbs. My life is over.”

The cop is looking at Dave. Dave says, “no officer it’s not what you think!” He grabs the bag from my lap and says, “it’s just cloves. You know, like in the cigarettes. I roll my own. Here, take it,” and hands the bag to the cop. The cop looks at the bag, shines a light on it, puts it up to his face and takes a sniff. He sort of smirks and just hands it back to Dave. The cop takes his license and registration and goes back to his car.


Another five minutes but it seems like an hour. I’m just sitting there quiet as a mouse, not saying or doing anything. Dave is just sort of humming along to the music. For a minute, I’m thinking, ok maybe this isn’t the end of the world. He didn’t ask to search the car. Dave isn’t acting suspicious. So anyway we’re waiting and waiting and finally see the cop get back out of the car, walks up to us, hands Dave his license and registration back and tells him, “hey I know you’re on probation but everything checks out. I’m just going to give you a warning.” He hands Dave a ticket, but it’s not really a ticket, just a warning. The cop says, “you’re on your way home right? Slow it down.”

Dave says something, “thanks officer, I’m sorry sir, something something.” So the cop says, “alright have a nice night.”

He says, “by the way, great music!” He flashes a smile and walks back to his car, turns off his lights and drives away.

Dave looks over at me and says, “hey man you were right. The Motown thing totally worked!”


3 comments on “Baltimore Stories (5)

  1. Pingback: Bad Boy – Maybe Even “RACIST” OMG HITLER!!!1 #tcot #tlot #blackliesmatter #finns #Trump2016 #TISM #cuckservative #Bush #Clinton #911truth | Hipster Racist

  2. Pingback: Baltimore Stories (5) – What happens to the sons of middle class spook bureaucrats in suburban Maryland in the late 90s #NSA #Snowden #CIA | Hipster Racist

  3. Pingback: The Life and Times of Hipster Racist | Hipster Racist


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