CHAPTER 3
DRUGS, SEX, & CLOSE ENCOUNTERS
PURPLE HAZE DAZE
June 28, 1971. Danny entered Lackland Air Force Base in Texas at the tender age of 17—immature, basically a child in a man’s world.
He completed basic training, which consisted of training in combat first aid, hand-to-hand combat, book work, and marching everywhere screaming and yelling like somebody had kicked you in the ass. Ha! Sometimes they did.
Airman Rolling was bright and good-looking. He was proud to be an American and to serve his country. After basic he got his first stripe.
His first duty base was Homestead AFB in Florida, where he was placed in the Strategic Air Command (SAC) as a Security Police officer, guarding B-52 nuclear bombers and KC-135 tankers. Rain or shine, he walked around the big birds slinging a fully-loaded M-16. He soon got his second stripe and became Airman First Class Rolling. His badge represented the very essence of pride.
While I was at Homestead, I was introduced to the wonderful (yeah, sure!) world of drugs.
I can’t tell you how much acid I did in the military. That’s like asking a wino how many beers he drank in his whole lifetime. I don’t know…it’s hard to remember. I’ve done at least a hundred trips. I’ve tried it all…purple haze, orange wedge, blotter, Mr. Natural, windowpane, orange sunshine, chocolate mescaline…Once I zombied out on PCP, and for eight hours I went blind and couldn’t even talk. But that was nothing compared to the two hits of purple haze I did on my very first trip. It was a gas.
The place, the Sportatorium in Miami, Florida. The event, a rock concert starring famed lead guitarist Alvin Lee and the band Ten Years After. The time, sundown.
Young hippies gathered like vultures swooping in on carrion, as hot rods jostled for parking spots. A fire engine red 4-on-the-floor Dodge Duster 340 with 3/4 racing cam wheeled onto the crowded dirt parking lot, powered down, rumbled into a slot, braked, and came to an abrupt halt bathed in a cloud of dust. On the 8-track blasted “Nights in White Satin” by The Moody Blues.
Airman First Class Danny Rolling white-knuckled the Hurst shifter on the floor, found reverse, turned the key, and the rod died without a sputter. He reached across the two giggling teenage girls beside him and opened the door as a fine breath of red dust poured in.
“Let’s go!”
Danny, Maggie and Wanda bailed out and joined the crazy caravan migrating towards the open gates of Miami’s wildest concert hall. In the winter, the Sportatorium was used as a quarter-mile oval dirt track for motocross and stock car racing. During the rest of the year, it was converted into a massive concert hall, packing in as many as fifty thousand screaming maniacs.
Danny was eighteen. His girlfriend Maggie and her friend Wanda were both sixteen, and the trio of teenagers were about to attend their very first concert.
They waited impatiently with the rest of the rag-tag gypsies to purchase tickets. When the first band cranked up, the line moved quickly. Excitement intensified as they bought their tickets and hurried inside.
The sweet, thick smell of burning marijuana greeted them as they entered the world of illicit drugs, booze and rock-&-roll.
Except for the stage and concession stands, the huge cavern was dark and filled with smoke. Bare steel beams rose from the floor behind the bleachers arching high overhead. Danny felt like he was being swallowed by some prehistoric whale.
Thousands of longhairs moved together in the darkness, a mass of blitzed mad hatters. A few crazed fans even climbed up the towering girders and hung from the rafters. The police stayed outside by the gates. They had better sense than to tangle with thousands of stoned freaks in the dark.
The trio wove through the crowd, spellbound by the excitement of the music. They found a spot midway up the bleachers as close to the front as possible, and Danny and Maggie sat close together holding hands, listening to the opening act.
A party joint the size of a zeppelin floated from hand to hand, passing right under Danny’s nose.
“Hey, man! Pass that over here!”
“Sure, dude. Get high, brother, and pass it on,” grinned the red-eyed longhair.
Danny Rolling was a Security Policeman. But when the uniform came off, he turned into a party animal, a real bogart when it came to drugs—especially ass-kick weed. He took a long deep toke…and then another…and another…
Shhhht! Ahhhh…Shhhht! Ahhhh…
“Killer! Here, Maggie, wanna toke?”
But she shook her head, so he passed the billowing plumes of smoke on down the line.
Reefer gives you the munchies and the cotton-mouth, so it wasn’t long before the airman needed something to wet his whistle.
“Maggie, I’ve got the munchies. I’m going for junk food and drinks. You and Wanda want something?”
“Yeah!” she smiled. “I’ll have a Dr. Pepper and a bag of popcorn.”
“Wanda?”
“I’ll have the same,” she shouted over the music.
“OK, be back in a little bit. You two stay put so we won’t lose our seats.”
He kissed Maggie, stood, and descended the bleachers into the maze of pulsing shadows. Pale faces emerged and disappeared in the darkness like a brood of vampire bats dangling from the roof of some ancient black cave.
As the airman drew closer to the concession stand, he saw a pair of blonde identical twin teenage girls dressed out in red and white tasseled cowgirl miniskirts and vests, with white Stetson hats, boots, holsters, and cap pistols. Side by side they stood, completely out of place amongst the crowd of hippies, freaks and fairies, posing and smiling like models in a commercial for some new super red lipstick.
Tack! Tack! Tack!
They blew the smoke from the barrels of their pearl-handled silver cap pistols. Danny watched their act for a moment then moved on.
“Purple haze! Purple haze for sale! Purple haze! Purple haze for sale!”
What was this? Right in the middle of the walk stood a curious figure in a swirling black cape with long hair tumbling from under a black top hat.
“Purple haze! Purple haze for sale!”
“Hey! How much?”
Two strychnine-dilated eyes blazed from beneath the top hat. “Go away, narc!” he snarled.
“Hey, man! I ain’t no narc. My hair is short because I’m in the Air Force. They make us wear it this short.”
“Are you sure? You ain’t no narc?”
“Listen, dude, I’m tellin’ ya I’m cool! So how much?”
“OK…two bucks,” and the pusher reached into the folds of his cape and drew out a pillbox filled with magic, removed a single purple barrel-shaped pill, and placed it in the buyer’s outstretched hand.
“Hey! Are you sure that’s enough?”
“Oh yes! That’s a four-way hit of pure purple haze. Break it up into two halves and it’ll send two people to the moon.”
“Sounds good to me!” Danny slapped two Washingtons in the pusher’s hand and popped the purple tab into his mouth.
He brought the refreshments back to Maggie and Wanda, saying “Sorry it took so long. Man! This place is packed! Thirsty?”
“You bet!”
And they kicked back while the opening act got down and dirty. Grooving to the hot tunes, the snacks disappeared as an hour went by. Shouldn’t something be happening by now? Danny had never tried LSD and he didn’t know what to expect. GI friends had warned him not to experiment with the drug, but he had to find out for himself.
“Maggie, I’ve gotta use the head. You want something?”
“Nope, I’m fine.”
“You, Wanda?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Okey-dokey! Be back shortly.”
But what was he really up to? His mission: to find that freak pushing the purple haze. Faces floated in the smoky gloom like ghouls dancing around a bubbling cauldron at a witch’s mass, as the airman sought the peddler of twisted dreams.
The cowgirls were still in the same spot, posing and popping caps at the crowd.
Tack! Tack! Tack!
Come to find out, they were promoting Marlboro cigarettes, giggling and posing as they passed out the complimentary packs of smokes. Curiosity satisfied, he pressed on, searching for the top-hat hippie.
“Purple haze! Purple haze for sale! Purple haze! Purple haze for sale!”
There he was, rooted to the selfsame spot. Angry, Danny got in his face.
“Hey, man! Remember me?”
The hippie shook his head with a puzzled, spaced-out look.
“I bought a hit of acid from you over an hour and a half ago!”
The pusher shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “So what?”
“Well, I didn’t get off. And I want my money back!”
Hazed eyes peered at the airman, unbelieving.
“Look, GI, tell you what I’ll do,” and he produced another tiny purple pill. “Open your hand.”
He did, and the hallucinogenic pill fell into his palm.
“If this doesn’t do the trick, I can’t help you. Nobody can!” A big grin beamed across his starry-eyed face as the magic was passed.
“OK, dude,” and he swallowed it instantly. “Thanks!” But the freak had already disappeared in the crowd.
The airman got another Dr. Pepper and beat it back to the girls in the bleachers. Maggie and Wanda had no idea what Danny had been up to, but soon enough they would find out.
The first band wrapped up their gig and the house lights blinked on. Everyone looked around at each other, freaking on how weird they all looked.
“Look at that dude!”
“What the hell is he doing?”
“Man is he spaced!” Dashing around and around an electrical scaffold by the stage, he was dancing with the devils of his warped mind. The tie-dyed freak would play ring around the scaffold for the entire concert.
After the brief intermission, the lights winked out and a voice boomed out over the humming amps. “And now! The band you’ve been waiting to see! Introducing…Alvin Lee…and Ten…Years…AFTER!”
As the musicians stepped on stage, the fans jumped to their feet and went crazy! They lit into “Going Home,” the same tune they played at Woodstock. Strobes and multicolored lights flashed and pulsed to the music.
Danny rose to his feet so he could see better, when suddenly! Someone poked their finger in the spokes of the universe. Time slowed, sound became distorted, and a surge of energy elevated his heartbeat. His breathing became irregular as he blasted off on the rocket ship called lysergic acid diethylamide.
He took a deep breath, sat down, and almost passed out. Everything turned in circles. Colors exploded before his dilated eyes like Roman candle starbursts. A boiling pyrotechnic storm of rainbow lightning bolts swirled in kaleidoscopic patterns. One wave after another took him higher and higher, until he went over the edge.
“Danny? What’s wrong?” asked Maggie, concerned.
“Aw, man! Am I trippin’! Whew! I dropped some acid…man!”
The concert was the best. Alvin Lee hit licks that bounced off the ceiling while Danny climbed higher and higher on the staircase of illusion, experiencing strange sights and sensations.
TRACERS: Distortions created by the effects of LSD.
STROBES: Flashes of light produced by large doses of LSD.
HALLUCINATIONS: Visions induced by lysergic acid diethylamide.
All these elements melted into one hell of a ride. Danny had bought his ticket, and now he had to hold on for dear life. All five senses were magnified tenfold. Overwhelmed, he started to feel nauseated.
“Maggie…I’ve gotta hit the latrine. You girls wait here.”
When he stood, he tumbled over the couple seated in front of him.
“Hey, man! Watch it, will ya?!” The hippie screamed as Danny knocked his drink out of his hand.
“Sorry, man,” Danny mumbled as he gathered himself and wobbled down the bleachers.
The crowd pulsed like demented damned spirits. Finally he found the bathroom and stumbled through the door.
“YEEK! Get out of here!”
“Oops! Sorry!”
He had entered the wrong bathroom and quickly dashed back out the door. He tried again. This time he read the sign very carefully. It said MEN. He pressed through and tripped on his own feet, sprawling across the blue tile floor.
“Man! Is he flicked up!”
“Hey, dude! Wish I had some of what you got!”
Disoriented and nauseated, he crawled to the far stall and vomited violently.
Urrr…ahhh…urrr…ahhh…ahhh!
The contents of his stomach now swam in the toilet. He sat there trying to compose himself as the blue tile floor moved, bubbling up around him until it filled the stall with spheres of rainbows, and he began to choke.
Whoa! Reflexes cast him out onto the floor with his pants around his ankles. Quickly, he rose, pulled up his pants, buckled his belt, and approached the sink.
The mirror presented itself, but the image staring back at him was anything but good old familiar Danny. It was a porous, glowing, red-eyed demon with skin that moved and breathed. He looked deep into the weaves of his overlapping multicolored skin, terrified and fascinated.
He began to recover from the nausea and tore his eyes away from the horrifying vision. After he felt better, he fought his way back through the crowd, but it took him almost an hour. Maggie was worried.
“Where were you?”
“I—I got lost. Man! Am I spaced! Where’s Wanda?”
“She went looking for you. Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. I’m really fucked up. I guess I’m all right. Wow! Look at that!” And he was off and flying again.
Ten Years After finished their last song and did two encores. As the house lights came up, Wanda came back from her search.
The crowd started to thin out, but Danny and the girls remained seated, observing the whole spectacle. The freak was still dancing round and round the scaffold, and they watched five security guards drag him away screaming. Wild!
Finally the trio found their way out into the parking lot and pure chaos.
Beep-beeeeep! Honk…honk…HONNNNK!
“Move your ass, muthafucka!”
Just as the trio strolled by, one bulky, tattooed, ugly guy got out of his Road Runner, stormed over to this couple blocking the flow of traffic, pulled the poor driver out of his blue doodlebug and beat the living shit out of him.
“This is nuts! Let’s get the hell out of here!” They found the Duster, hopped in, and joined the mad exodus.
Florida highways are long and straight, but when seen under the influence of LSD, the roads take on a nature of their own, swaying, dipping, and writhing like venomous vipers.
“Maggie, am I driving OK? I mean, am I keeping it straight?”
“Yeah, but if you want, I’ll drive.”
“Nahhh! I’m fine.” But he wasn’t. And he almost got them all killed.
The Duster pulled up to a red light and came to a halt. A light breeze whispered through the open windows. Inside his enhanced mind, everything was alive, even the street lights. They swayed from side to side, strobing as the road pulsed and squirmed beneath them.
Danny’s mouth was thick with saliva and he opened the door to spit on the road.
Haaa…putt…SPLAT!
The wad struck the asphalt like an atom bomb, exploding in rainbows of swirling, fractured color. Then it came back together…and grew legs…and started gigging about violently, humming a twisted bubble-gum tune.
Ah-ah…eee…eee! Ah-ah…eee…eee!
Wow! Danny forgot all about where he was. Time and space did not exist. Nothing did but the bizarre boogie before him.
Ah-ah…eee…eee! Ah-ah…eee…eee!
Way off in the distance, he thought he heard a horn barking. Maggie shook him and screamed, “The light’s green! The light’s green! What’s wrong with you?”
Honk! Honk! HONNNNNK!
“Hey asshole! Get that bucket of bolts moving!” The voice of an angry motorist blared through the haze. Hallucinating, the airman slammed the door and floored it, burning rubber—but the light had already turned red.
A station-wagon with the right-of-way nearly T-boned the Duster in its right side.
Rrrrrrr!
Tires screeched in protest as the wagon locked up all fours, leaving skid marks in its wake as the Duster shot by with inches to spare.
Honk! Honk! HONNNNNK!
“Are you crazy?” The driver of the wagon spat and cursed before he sped away.
Danny pulled over onto the emergency lane and sat there for a minute. He took a deep breath and said calmly, “You better drive, Maggie. I’m freaked out.”
Whew-WEE! Was Maggie relieved! So with her to his left and Wanda to his right, Danny rode off into the hazy crazy night.
“I’m thirsty! How’s about we stop for burgers and cokes?”
“Yeah,” replied Wanda while Maggie grew silent. She didn’t do drugs. Oh, maybe she would take a sip or two of beer at a party, but LSD? No way! She was pissed off that her date was into such.
She pulled the Duster into a fast food joint, parked, got out and entered. As soon as the trio stepped inside, Danny noticed a big black State Trooper hunched over his table wolfing down a double cheeseburger. He looked up and stared directly at Danny.
PARANOIA! He felt it shoot through him like an electric shock. He just knew the cop suspected him to be high. He could almost hear him saying to himself, “Look at that one. Hmmm…he’s on something. I’ll hafta keep my eye on him.”
They chose a table in the back as far from the Trooper as they could get. The waitress took their order and the girls went to the bathroom, leaving Danny alone. The Trooper was still eyeballing him suspiciously. Was he acting strange? Of course he was! Hell! He was tripping his brains out!
He looked down and saw a newspaper on the table. Funny, he hadn’t noticed it before. He yanked it up and hid behind it so he wouldn’t have to look at the Trooper observing him.
It turned out not to be a regular newspaper, but an underground paper called The Head. Danny lost himself in the cartoons and put the cop out of his mind. When the waitress brought their orders, he folded the paper and laid it back down.
As he paid the waitress, he glanced back down at the paper. To his horror, on the front page, a big black shiny .38 cal. special with a fat smoking joint protruding from its barrel jumped off the page. Printed above it, a huge black headline screamed, “KILLER WEED!”
He tore his eyes away from the threatening image and gazed around the restaurant. Suddenly the cop by the door turned into a big hairy gorilla in a Trooper’s uniform. His glowing red eyes were fixed on Danny.
That was the last straw. He rose carefully, walked out, and piled into the back seat of the Duster.
The girls returned from the bathroom only to find Danny missing and the orders sitting on the table. They assumed he had visited the bathroom, but after fifteen minutes passed, Maggie became concerned and knocked on the men’s room door.
“Danny? You in there?” No answer. So they gathered up the rest of their refreshments and made for the Duster. There they found Danny curled up in the back seat—far, far away. Completely out of his mind, he was lost in a world of flashing colors and distorted sounds.
The next thing he knew he was back at the barracks lying on his bunk in the dark listening to the paint drip off the walls and the lockers breathe.
Drip…drip…drip…SPLAT!
Oooooh…ahhhh…ooooh…ahhhhh…
He got up and made for the latrine. Standing before the sink, he tugged on the light chain. CLICK! A flood of brilliant light exploded into his twisted brain, turning into cartwheeling rainbows. Gradually, his vision returned and he washed his face. The water was cool, comforting, a stable link back to reality.
“Oh, man! How did I get back?” He couldn’t remember.
Looking into the mirror, he was drawn into the reflection. Now he was on the other side looking back at himself. His face melted away, revealing a bleached bone-white skull with bulging eyes.
“Ahhhhhh!” He turned off the light and dashed back to his bunk, dove in, and curled up in the fetal position. Alone in the dark, he drifted off into a deep purple haze daze. No way in, no way out. Just…
Splat…splat…
Oooooh…ahhhh…ooooh…ahhhhh…
NOT ALL SUGAR AND SPICE
Danny’s first sexual contact with a girl was not a good one. One Friday night he went off base and had one too many beers. As he was stumbling back to base, he came upon a fenced-in public pool and decided to take a midnight dip.
As he began to climb the chainlink fence, he heard a girl laughing. He jumped down and walked across the street to her house. This girl was sitting on the front porch. He asked her why she was laughing at him. She said with a Cuban accent, “The police drive by here all the time and you’ll get busted if you try to go swimming after hours.” They talked a little more. She asked him inside to her bedroom, and they did it.
The next morning Danny woke up with a bad taste in his mouth and the whole thing made him sick. She was not very clean, and it took a month to get the smell off him.
When I was young, my mama said, “Son,
Life’s a hard row to hoe,
And there’s some things you need to know.
Now little girls are not all sugar and spice,
So son, take your mama’s advice.
Cause a broken heart’s a hard thing to mend.
It’s hard to put the pieces back together again.
Well, sittin’ on my daddy’s knee, he said, “Son,
I want you to listen to me.
You can cut your finger or skin your knee,
You know, it heals fairly easily.
But a broken heart’s a hard thing to mend.
It’s hard to put the pieces back together again.
Now, when Adam was given Eve, he said,
“I just don’t need another mouth to feed.”
Well, she just smiled and winked her eye.
She said, “Yeah, boy!
But I give y a whatcha need.
Cause a broken heart’s a hard thing to mend.”
WHERE THE WATERS MET
Danny was at a party out by the points in Homestead and there were these two good looking girls about 17 years old, one black, one white. Everybody at this party was doing orange sunshine acid and smoking weed. It was around 10:00 to 11:00 P.M. so the sun had long since checked out.
The two chicks freaked out. Apparently the guy who was selling the LSD turned the girls on to more than they could handle. They took off their shirts and went around topless. Soon all the guys were pawing them.
The party got even crazier. See, there were these canals that emptied out into the ocean on the points, and the two girls got totally naked and jumped into the canal. They splashed around for 10 to 15 minutes with their friends begging them to get out. It was deep and dangerous there. Everybody knew strange fish had been seen in that salt water canal.
The white girl was attacked by some kind of fish, maybe a shark. We never found out. I remember her screaming, “Help! Something is in here! It bit me! It’s biting me! Yeeee-aaah!” We all thought she was just tripping, until a couple of dudes dove in and pulled her out screaming and bleeding. Her friends rushed her to the hospital.
The black girl didn’t go with her friend. She was too zonked out. She just stumbled around for hours that night, naked, being passed from one guy to the next. It was sickening.
There is no doubt that girl never would have acted that way if she hadn’t taken acid. That black chick was one classy looking gal, but after that night she lost it—BIG TIME.
It was a bad situation. Danny tried to help her put her clothes on and get her act together, but before he could assist, some guy grabbed her hand, and well…Danny was tripping himself. So he just let her go. He didn’t get involved.
The girl had a BAD TRIP that night. Just before Danny left the scene, he bumped into her as he was leaving. She was out of her mind crying, “The spiders! The spiders! Get them off me!”
Sunset…where the waters met
Moon rises shining bright
Under the starlit night
Star falls
Into the ocean swell
Quickly! The glowing ember dies
Into dark waters sighs
Shark glides through the shallows
In search of unlucky fellows
The ocean hides its secrets deep
Where whales sing and crabs creep
Sunset…where the treetops met
Moon rises shining bright
Under the starlit night
Bats take wing
Into the cool night spring
Moth struggles
On a sticky string
Spider’s web
Shimmering
MILITARY MARYJANE
As time went on, Danny was up for his third stripe when he received orders for Vietnam. Wow! Was he ever gung-ho! The thought of combat really made him stand tall and strut his stuff, until they called about a dozen of the guys into the briefing room and ran it down to them. They said, “Boys, one out of three of you are coming back in a body bag, one out of three will receive a crippling wound, and one out of three will come home whole.” So much for his glorious image of Vietnam. Still, he was eager to go. They told him he was going to be placed in a tower filled with sandbags on the perimeter of some base outside Saigon.
When Danny told his dad, he was proud of him. Then, one fateful night, an MP friend Danny was buying drugs from was busted stumbling around the base spaced out on some killer LSD.
The Officer of Special Investigation (OSI) questioned him and threatened him with life imprisonment in Leavenworth, so he spilled his guts about a hundred or so cops and servicemen and women he had been dealing to on base. Danny happened to be in the bunch.
His orders were immediately canceled, and he was given an Article 15 for a trace amount of maryjane found in the bottom of his pants pocket. He was busted down to Airman Basic and thrown in the stockade for 30 days. To say the least, James Rolling was utterly outraged when the commander gave him a call informing him of his son’s status.
Well, after they threw Danny in the stockade, they took away his stripes and canceled his Vietnam tour. After that they just kept stepping on his toes. He was given a second Article 15 for failure to obey a direct order (which he did obey). Another 30 days in the stockade.
About a month later, he was painting wooden stairs leading to the SAC trailer’s command post.
(One day he was ordered to paint them brown, the next day blue; don’t even ask!) The first sergeant ordered him to double-time it back to the barracks and report to Lieutenant Blackwell. A light bulb went off in Danny’s head after he heard that. Why would they be in such a hurry to get him back to the barracks to report? The only reason he could think of would be a death in the family…or else they had searched his room and found the baggie full of pot seeds he had been saving to start a garden. Danny suspected the latter to be the case.
So he hauled ass back to the barracks, in fact he ran the three mile distance with all his might. He didn’t own a car and his blue and silver BSA 650 White Lightning motorcycle had been stolen. All he could think of was those seeds and the years he was going to spend in Leavenworth. If only he could get there before the OSI, perhaps he could get rid of the incriminating evidence.
When he finally stomped up to the barracks sweating golf balls in the hot Florida sun, his hopes vanished before his eyes as he discovered an armed MP sitting in a chair propped up against the door. He regarded Danny lightly as he approached.
“Say! I was ordered to report to Lieutenant Blackwell. What’s going on?”
“The Lieutenant is in the dayroom waiting on you.” And with that the MP ignored him. It looked bad for the old boy.
“Airman Rolling reporting as ordered, sir,” he snapped to and saluted the brass.
“At ease, Airman. Sit down,” the Lieutenant ordered flatly.
“Could you tell me what this is all about, sir?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, young man.”
And Danny was left to his own thoughts. The wheels in his head were turning full steam ahead. Ah! An idea!
“Sarge? Do you think it would be all right for me to go downstairs and get a Coke? I ran all the way over here and my throat is dry. Would you like one too?” he asked as sincerely as any innocent teenager could.
“Awright,” he frowned, “but make it snappy.”
“I’ll make it snappy all right,” Danny said as soon as the door to the stairwell closed behind him. He dashed down two flights of stairs, blasted through the laundry room spilling into the back 40, lifted himself up on the second story ledge, let himself into his room the usual alternate way (through the open window). Quickly and quietly, he removed the bag of seeds from his desk drawer and let himself out the way he came in, the whole while with the MP just outside his door.
He dropped down off the ledge to the green grass below, opened the baggie, and flung the little gray-green speckled seeds, scattering them all over the lawn. He tossed the baggie in the trash, walked over to the Coke machine and coined the Sergeant and himself a Coke, then strolled up the stairs whistling Dixie.
He handed the Sarge his cold Coke. Sarge nodded, then Danny sat himself down, popped the tab on the red can of fizzy, and watched the rest of Let’s Make a Deal. Yeah!
The OSI’s came marching in wearing their black suits and their usual dark cloud expressions.
“Are you Airman Rolling?”
“Yes sir.”
“Come with us.”
And Danny followed them to his room, with the MP still outside on guard. He knew what to expect next. They tore his room apart, and waited until the last thing to open his desk drawer to search for the bag of seeds they were expecting to find there.
Lo and behold, the item they sought had sprouted wings and flown away! They exchanged puzzled acknowledgments trying not to seem surprised. They dumped the contents of the drawer on his bunk and rummaged through the lot, then turned and looked at Airman Rolling with pure disgust. He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. He had to turn away to keep from laughing.
About sixty days later, all these little maryjane plants popped up on the back 40’s lawn. They knew how they got there, but they couldn’t prove it, so they had a detachment pull up the unlawful plants, and gave Danny 30 more days in the stockade.
After he did his time, he was transferred to another squadron, and not long after that he received his discharge: General Under Honorable Conditions.
Danny came home disgraced before his father, who did not want to receive his failure for a son.
PRAISE HIS HOLY NAME
It was midnight in Shreveport and the bowling alley had just closed. Fresh out of the United States Air Force, Danny was hitchhiking along Hearn Avenue, when a man called Brother Estes was moved by the spirit to offer him a ride. Danny accepted, and Brother Estes asked, “Where are you going?”
Danny told him where his grandfather Daddy Walter lived. At age 19 he wasn’t getting along with his dad, as usual, so he was staying with his grandfather. It just so happened that one street over from where he was headed was Brother Estes’ church, the United Pentecostal Church of Shreveport. They had to go right past it.
Funny, Danny had not noticed it before. As they passed by the neon-lit church, Brother Estes mentioned that he belonged to it. Danny said, “That’s cool,” and promptly directed him on down the road. For some reason, he overlooked the turn to Daddy Walter’s house and they had to make the block again.
When they passed by the church a second time, Brother Estes asked Danny if he would like to come inside and pray with him. The idea gripped ahold of Danny and he readily agreed. That wonderful blessed night is something Danny will never forget. The place was dimly-lit, except for a big beautiful brass cross that was magnificently illuminated over the baptistery behind the pulpit. As they passed through the vestibule into the sanctuary, there were three men already there praying in tongues.
The way those men were praying, it was so strange and beautiful. Danny had never heard people pray like that, with such feeling and sincerity. He knelt there at the altar and prayed with the gentlemen who began weeping for his soul, and an unusual thing happened. Danny felt something he hadn’t felt in years—peace, blessed peace that streamed down his face and wet the altar he knelt at.
Danny gave himself to Jesus Christ that night. The Lord touched Danny’s troubled weary soul and calmed the raging sea of pain. Praise His Holy Name!
He who flung the stars
Into the heavens above
Created the mountains…the oceans…
The eagle…the dove
None greater than Thee, Oh Lord,
None greater than Thee
Angels bow before you
And fold their wings
Lift up their voice
And praise the King of Kings
None greater than Thee, Oh Lord,
None greater than Thee
Thou art the Alpha…Omega…
Beginning and the end.
At the sound of thy voice,
Peace bestills the mighty wind
None greater than Thee, Oh Lord,
None greater than Thee
The next day was Sunday, and Danny was baptized by Reverend Mike Hudspeth in the precious name of Jesus Christ. When he went under the water, its cool cleansing power washed away his sins by the blood of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Danny came up speaking in tongues and magnifying God! He had received the Promise and was filled with the Holy Ghost! He felt clean, pure, and accepted by God and man. His slate had been wiped clean and he walked in the newness of life!
As time went on, Danny became more and more involved in church activities. He drove the Sunday School bus that picked up the handicapped and the children for church. He visited the nursing homes and played his guitar for the old folks. He went with the youth to the square downtown under the Texas Street Bridge to sing hymns and pass out tracts.
“He played the Easter Bunny one year and he sang in the choir for a short spell,” said Claudia Rolling. “He wanted to write music for the church, but the choir director told him that his music had no value. And that really upset him. They all knew that he could write music and sing, and he could draw anything, and I’m sure the members were aware of that, but I think what they really admired most in Danny was his kindness to the older people in the church and the little children. He liked to help them.”
Danny went to church Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And when he wasn’t at church, he was about the neighborhood with his guitar in one hand and a Bible in the other. He would knock on doors and sing a song, then pass out a gospel tract and cordially invite them to church.
ANGEL & DRAGON
Lord only knows, I’m a pitiful example of a Child of God. Nonetheless, a Christian I am, and a Christian I remain. My experience with Christ includes speaking in tongues, and I thank God that it does. To this day, I still speak in a heavenly tongue when the Holy Ghost blesses me so.
I’ve had numerous supernatural experiences. Some so haunting, they were actual visits from demons. Still, most have been beautiful moments with my Savior Jesus Christ. He is the author and finisher of my soul. He will not leave my soul to the demons that have haunted me all my life. The Lord Jesus knows I love him, and I am not ashamed to declare it.
On my knees today,
Before the Lord I do pray,
Make me over anew…for You.
If I fail to honor Thee,
Then chastise and humble me.
Make me over anew…for You.
And if my light flickers low,
Fill me up, Lord, that I may glow.
Make me over anew…for You. Though
my sins be scarlet red
Because of You, snow white instead.
Make me over anew…for You.
Yes, make me over anew,
That I might honor You.
Change this cup of clay
Into gold that I may
Honor You, Oh Lord, honor You.
THE BEST YEARS
Even though Danny’s life was full, he felt something missing. So he asked God to send him a wife, and one was given to him. That’s how he met Omatha on a Sunday night at the United Pentecostal Church of Shreveport. It was love at first sight, and they were married by Reverend Hudspeth four months later. A rather short engagement, but Danny was very much in love with her, and he couldn’t wait to make her his wife.
September 6, 1974. There amongst burning white candles and 600 friends and family members, Danny raised the veil from his new wife’s face and kissed her gendy on the lips. So Omatha Ann Halko became Omatha Rolling. “What God hath joined together, let no man cast asunder.”
But their marriage was to be a bittersweet one, filled with moments of great joy and great disappointment, destined to end in divorce.
Omatha is an Indian name, and she possessed the beauty and charm of an Indian princess. Long waist-length auburn hair that held deep, rich colors of red and gold amongst the shiny black and brown, high cheekbones, blue eyes that could capture your very heart and soul. She stood erect and proud, a true beauty within and without.
Danny is a name derived from the Biblical name Daniel, which means “God is my Judge.” He stood tall and slender, good-looking with brown hair, hazel eyes, and a sincere desire to succeed at his marriage and in his faith.
This was a marriage that could have been special and last a lifetime. Ah, but alas, as marriages go the way of the T-Rex, so went the Rollings’.
Danny was far from the perfect husband, and Omatha far from the perfect wife. Still, they had something special, and proof of that soon developed. Kiley Danielle was born to the Rollings a year later. She was a beautiful bundle of bright bubbly joy, a lovely child, good-natured and well-behaved, the apple of her daddy’s eye.
For the first two years of that victorious church life, Danny was walking around in a halo of blessings. Everything was so right, so beautiful! They were the best years of his life. God was very merciful and kind to his humble servant Danny Rolling.
As time ticked on, the troubles crept back into his life. His relationship with Omatha became strained and distant. His prayer life and social life disintegrated, and once again he began to walk the streets at night.
Omatha was often frigid. Danny was crazy about sex, but it was just a duty to her. She didn’t come on to it at all. Cold she was, didn’t even like kissing. And when she would turn the cold shoulder to him, he would find relief standing in the rain outside some stranger’s window, looking at some woman doing different things.
One night while his wife was pregnant with his daughter, she refused to satisfy him, so he ducked out into the night and the police caught him. When they found out his name, they looked at each other.
“So you’re Lieutenant Rolling’s boy?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, we’re not going to run you in, but we are going to take you back to your apartment and tell your wife whatcha been up to out here,” and that’s what they did.
God…the shame of that night—my pregnant wife answering the door to see me between two policemen and them telling her I had been peeking in windows.
Sitting by the window, in an empty room.
Trying to get over these feelings, a little too soon.
I tried to call you, but you are never there.
Makes me wonder, if you ever cared.
And you finally hurt me more than I love you.
VISITORS FROM HELL
One evening after church on a still warm July night, the first warning came on the wings of the night in the hands of a messenger from hell. The Rollings had just put their daughter into her crib in the nursery and lay themselves down for the night. Omatha fell quickly asleep, but Danny could find no peace. He tossed and turned, and gazed out the window into the illuminated street out front.
Suddenly! A cold violent wind blasted through the opened window, raising the ceiling-to-floor olive-colored curtains over a startled Danny! He wondered, had a tornado struck? Paralyzed with fear, he stared wide-eyed out the window as things flew around the room.
Then…there…outside the window…it came creeping down from the roof—a Shadow of Evil, demonic energy personified. It slipped under the window and poured into the room, slithered up the wall and gathered in the corner of the ceiling. The freezing wind howled as the Visitor from the underworld hovering above the bedded Rollings began to watch, to call, and to reach for Danny’s soul.
He could feel its evil power. The hair on his arms and neck stood up as he watched the demon watching him. He tried to move, but was frozen in wonder and fear. He tried to speak, to wake his wife, but he could only moan. Finally his moaning awoke Omatha and she sat up in the bed terrified. “Danny! Danny! What’s wrong? I’m scared! Something’s wrong!” she cried, shaking Danny, who was in a trancelike state.
Danny could only moan and look astonished at the thing hovering above him. It could change shapes—hideous shapes of creatures never seen by mortal eyes, drawn up from hell’s wells and filled with devil’s yells. The thing held no light. It looked like if you put your hand into it, your hand would go somewhere and you would never see it again.
There in his bed, Danny struggled to gain release from the spell. Sweat poured down his desperate face, as he overcame his fear and willed himself to speak three names. The first name was a whisper forced from a forged will, the second, a triumph—and the third, a victory: “Jesus…Jesus…JESUS!”
After he shouted the Holy Name the third time, the dark demon immediately dashed out the window into the night. The curtains which were flapping wildly overhead settled down into their place, the wind ceased, and there was once again peace in the Rolling home. Danny turned and touched Omatha on her silky smooth shoulder, and said, “Don’t worry, Omatha, we’ve got Jesus,” and they both went to sleep undisturbed for the rest of the night.
The second warning came ghostly haunting from the grave of a forgotten cemetery hidden in the back roads of Mississippi.
Danny and Omatha had an argument because Danny wanted to go deer hunting, and Omatha said, “If you go, I won’t be here when you get back.” And so it was.
He had hunted all day without success, and came home to an empty apartment, and a note scribbled on the bathroom mirror with soap: “Danny, I love you, I’ve gone to my sister’s.” There in the silence of that moment, he packed his clothes and left.
He drove from Shreveport, Louisiana to Clearwater, Florida, got a job cleaning the oven in a little pastry shop during the day, and walked the lonely sands at night.
I stroll along the beach…I hear the seagulls cry.
They sail across the waves…nto a clear blue sky.
You know, the human heart…
is such a fragile thing.
Like the rain it weep…like the wind it sings.
And you finally hurt me more than I love you.
Three weeks later he found himself under a table cleaning, and began to long for home. “Why did I leave?” he asked himself. He crawled out from under the table, jumped in his car, and headed for his wife and child in Shreveport.
That night he fell asleep at the wheel, and awoke just in time to prevent a nasty head-on collision. He then pulled into a small country town outside of Jacksonville, Mississippi, parked behind a little grocery store, and went to sleep.
Tap…tap…tap…
He was awake and disoriented with a light shining in his face. With his hand over his eyes, he rolled down the frost-heavy window to see who it was and what they wanted. There holding a long flashlight stood the sheriff and a deputy.
“Whatcha doing parked here?” said the Sheriff.
Danny replied, “I was just trying to make Shreveport by morning, and fell asleep at the wheel, so I pulled in here to get some shut-eye.”
“Well, son, you can’t stay here,” said the Sheriff, shining the light around inside the car. “You’ll have to find a rest spot down the road.”
“OK, officer, thank you,” said Danny, and he drove off sleepy-eyed into the dark.
He hadn’t driven very far before he nodded off to sleep again, and drove off the highway. The whining of the tires on the shoulder of the road woke him with a start. His heart throbbing in his throat, he yanked the steering wheel hard left, and got it back on the highway. Then he pulled over and stopped.
“Whewww-WEE!” Danny said to himself. “I can’t go another mile. I gotta find a place to rest.”
A semi sped past, shaking the parked car. Its red tail lights hissed off into the night, and the highway swallowed it in the distance. He saw a side road up ahead and a dirt road that cut into a thick stand of pine.
“I’m in luck!” he thought, “I’ll drive up that dirt road a ways and make sure it’s no one’s driveway then I can just sleep till noon.” So he drove off the highway and turned up the dirt road. After he eased down the path a ways, he saw a light up ahead. “Ah, naw, it looks like someone must live up there.”
Still he continued on until the path opened up into a clearing. There, like a ghost in the mist, stood an old-timey white one-room church, its steeple pointing a wooden finger towards the heavens, as a warning to trespassing sinners. A single utility pole with a light burning was grounded just behind the church, casting its shadow across the meadow. To the right was an ancient graveyard with an ironwork fence surrounding it.
Danny thought he was in luck when he turned around in the gravel driveway and parked it facing the way he came in. It was cold, freezing in fact. His breath fogged up the inside and the frost bit on the outside windows. He slept deeply.
Suddenly! For no apparent reason, he awoke abruptly from his exhausted sleep, feeling uneasy. Something was wrong—very wrong. That night Danny’s guardian angel was at his assigned post, and tapped his shoulder, alerting him that Evil was about.
Danny put his hand on the frosty window and wiped the mist from it. As he looked into the rearview mirror, something began to stir amongst the tombstones and crosses in the old graveyard. Just a shadow at first, it stood up and headed for the ironwork gate. As it opened the gate, there was a screech of protest, and the Visitor passed through, then walked—no, it didn’t walk—it floated across the mist-covered frozen ground.
Closer…closer it came, arm outstretched and pointing towards the parked car. It appeared to Danny to be a man—a tall, dark man wearing a wide-brim Quaker black hat, a knee-length coat, and gray slacks. He had no face, only darkness filled his ragged clothes.
Danny sat frozen to the spot, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The Vision crept up to the car and reached for him. He turned the ignition key and spewed gravel as he left in a hurry. He looked in the rearview mirror, and saw the Vision vanish in the mist that brought it.
Warnings…warnings from beyond.
Oh, if only young Danny
Could have seen the signs!
When he finally did get back to Shreveport, weary and worried, his fears were washed away, as his wife opened the door with an embarrassed smile. Life was good again for Danny Rolling, but only for a little while.
THE WHISPERING TROLL
One moment you are young
and full of innocent dreams.
The next moment you look into a mirror
to see eyes filled with years of pain
glaring back at you,
swimming in their own horror.
It begins at a tender age, with a sensitive, bright child eager to learn and be accepted. Something happens—some sort of abuse or tragedy that chisels away at the child’s self-image. This fracture becomes a bleeding wound as the abuse continues and self-esteem is damaged.
Thus, a window develops in the young person’s mind. That’s when the murder demon enters and plants the seed of perversion, promising acceptance and relief. Over the years the seed grows along with the carrier, poking through one defense after another, until it becomes a terrible tree, capable of reaching down and gathering up unsuspecting souls into its cruel limbs.
Once it becomes an adult tree, the only way to cure what the infestation has done to the gentle, loving child of years gone by is to either trim away its branches—or cut it down. Either way the tree dies, and along with it, the person as well.
HAUNTED TREE
Job 14:7-10: For there is hope of a tree,
if it be cut down, that it will sprout again,
and that the tender branch thereof will not cease.
Though the root thereof was old in the earth,
and the stock thereof die in the ground,
yet through the scent of water it will bud,
and bring forth boughs like a plant.
But man dieth, and wasteth away;
yea, man giveth up the ghost,
and where is he?
What do I see in the tree?
Subconscious strongholds
Guard each secret discreetly.
Down twisting turning tendrils
Into the dark earth I descend
To face each elusive fiend or friend.
The root of the matter started helter-skelter.
Though the young sapling grew strong.
What went wrong?
Several elements would shape its destiny,
Altering development and splitting its nature
Through adversity.
Its roots sprout!
Leapfrogging pockets of clandestine shadow.
Hollowed be the heart of sorrow,
Filled with horrors bridging gaps
Between illusion and reality.
What evil possesses crooked limbs
Reaching in the dark?
One side—the love of light.
The other—terrible dread.
Tis a tree both alive
And dead.
Whispering leaves call, urging, “Come.”
Adding to its total sum.
Wind, rain & lightning
Lashed at its very heart & soul
Carving a hollow where lurked
The whispering troll.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
It wasn’t long after the Visitor searched Danny out by that crumbling graveyard that another warning fell in his lap. That fateful day on a lonely stretch of Texas highway the Grim Reaper came shopping, and this time he would find the soul he sought. Like so many poor souls that have lost their lives to the cruel embrace of the concrete and twisting metal of America’s highways, another life would be claimed unexpectedly.
Danny was transporting paper to printers in the tri-state area of Arkansas, Texas and Louisiana. His red and white International Lodestar thundered around the blind curve, topped the hill, and there it was: a grade with two bridges. A man pulling a double-wide house trailer had blocked the second bridge, backing up traffic in both lanes. Danny could hardly believe his eyes. He had been over this route countless times, and the blind curve and hill had never posed a problem before. Now a brown Dodge van was stopped directly in his path.
He stomped on the brake, but the weight of the truck pushed it 170 feet into its target, rubber burning and moaning on the hot asphalt. Like flashes from a high-speed camera, the van drew closer in microseconds.
“Oh, my God!” yelled Danny desperately, “I’m gonna hit ‘im.’” He turned the steering wheel to the left to avoid the collision, but to no avail. The big red truck clipped six inches off the brown van’s rear bumper, shoving it into the station wagon in front of it, and catapulting it into the air.
The International had now come to a stop, and Danny could see the whole event close up. The van spun like a top and landed on its rear wheels. The back doors flew open and a woman burst from the van headlong, striking the asphalt with her head. She laid out on her back and didn’t move.
Danny was stunned. “Oh God, this can’t be happening!” he shouted, jumped from the truck and raced to the fallen woman’s side. She lay on her back and Danny knelt down to see what he could do to help. But what he saw told him she was beyond the help of mortal man. The impact had burst open her head like an egg, and her blood ran down the grade towards the wrecked van.
Danny stood up and made for the van to see if there was anyone else that needed help. As he walked up to the driver’s side door, a man got out, dazed with a gash over his left eye, blood pouring over his face. He stumbled past Danny to check on his wife, who lay lifeless on the hot asphalt.
Danny wanted to reach out to the injured man and say, “on’t go back there, she’s gone, there’s nothing you can do.” Ah, but alas. He just stood there while the man hurried by him.
The man knelt down by his fallen lifelong companion, and cried, “Oh, my baby…my poor baby.” The whole scene cast a hopelessness that is all too familiar with roadside crashes—the smell of gasoline and blood, the victims weeping, the bystanders shaking their heads in sympathy.
The deceased woman’s husband raised up from his loss, with tears and blood running down his face, and started for Danny, screaming, “You bastard! What have you done? What have you done?”
Two bystanders grabbed him and restrained him. Danny lowered his head, walked over to the bridge’s guard rail, fell to his knees, put his head in his hands, and cried, “Poor lady…poor, poor lady…”
Danny wanted to escape the whole scene. There on his knees, hearing the cries of anguish and the wail of sirens approaching, the spokes of his universe broke and everything came tumbling in. His mind snapped there on the gritty bridge, and he felt himself shrinking, falling down a spiraling staircase into a dark quiet place. He heard one paramedic say to the other after taking his pulse, “He’s going into shock,” and then everything went black. He came to in the emergency room with a Pentecostal preacher praying over him.
For months after the accident, he couldn’t shake it—the pale woman lying there on the gray asphalt, eyes forever fixed wide and glassy, jaw slack, mouth agape. Night after haunted night, he would awake in a cold sweat as her visage appeared in his dreams and her bloody husband pointed an accusing finger at him, screaming “You bastard! What have you done? What have you done?”
HERE’S JOHNNY
During this period, Omatha left me three times for her high-school sweetheart, John Lummus. I caught them together twice while Omatha and I were still married. The second time, I planned to blow them both away. I brought my .308 cal. Remington hunting rifle to rise to the occasion—but Kiley was with them. I couldn’t do that in front of my own three and a half year-old bright-eyed little girl. So I settled for beating John Lummus’ country ass. He got off light with just a busted lip and a black eye. Omatha wanted a divorce. I didn’t, but I granted her one anyway.
What do you say to the one you love
When you know you hurt them
And you know you were wrong?
I need your love
Please don’t take away your love
For a while things were good, and the calm lasted about six months. They were in debt and Danny had mortgaged his old beat-up Volkswagen Super Beetle to have money enough for a place to live.
Then the accident happened, and the strain of it took something out of Danny. His wife began to drift further from his touch. Omatha began visiting her sister on weekends and soon she was seeing John on the side. Then one evening after a hard day’s work fighting the maddened highway, quite unexpectedly she broke it to Danny over dinner—which was served cold.
She spoke matter-of-factly. “Danny, my sister is coming to get Kiley and me in the morning.”
“OK. You planning on staying the weekend again?”
“No. I’m leaving you.”
“You’re WHAT?” he shouted, pushing his plate away and jumping to his feet. “After all I’m doing to try and keep us together?”
“My dad will be here too,” she said, looking frightened.
“Damn! I don’t believe this!” Danny stormed over to his fear-stricken wife and flung her to the floor, jumped on top of her, grabbed a handful of long auburn hair and pounded the back of her head on the thick gold carpet. “You’re going again? Why? Why are you doing this?”
He stood up and stalked out of the room, and returned carrying an armload of his wife’s clothes. He threw them out into the hallway, picked Omatha up off the floor, and pushed her out with them, slamming the door behind her and locking it.
Omatha pounded on the door and shouted hysterically, “Danny, let me in! Let me in!”
Kiley came running into the living room looking wide-eyed and innocent with her index finger stuck in her mouth. She pointed towards the door and said, “Daddy, let Mommy in,” and Danny’s heart broke. He lowered his head and let Omatha back in the apartment.
The shouting match continued until a pounding on the door broke through the heated words. Danny snatched open the door to find one of the neighbors looking concerned and asking, “What’s wrong here?”
“We’re having a fight!” Danny screamed, and slammed the door in her face.
Omatha and Kiley went into the bedroom and Danny followed, totally upset and on edge now. He reached into the closet and pulled out his Super Single 12 gauge shotgun, loaded it, and pointed it at Omatha. Little Kiley cried, “Don’t shoot Mommy! Daddy, stop!”
Danny lowered the long black-barreled shotgun and began to weep. Then he turned the gun on himself, pointed it in his face, cocked it and cried, “Is this what you want, Omatha?”
“No! No! Danny, don’t!”
Danny stood there for a long tense moment, then eased the hammer forward and put away the gun.
That night they all slept in the same bed, but they were not together. The next morning Danny went to work, hoping they would be there when he got home. But that evening, he came home to an empty apartment. He sat at the dining room table looking across the trees into the blue horizon turning a deep purple, empty and at a loss.
I really didn’t want to hurt her. I only thought…if I shook her up a bit? Maybe…just maybe? She wouldn’t run out on me again. I was really upset. I mean, I took out a second mortgage on that ancient beat-up Volkswagen Beetle Bug. I had bills up to there to make a place for Omatha and Kiley to stay after Omatha left me the second time. And here she was saying adios again. And I knew it was John Lummus she was running to.
When you went away…
My world came tumblin’ down.
Now, my lifers a three-ring circus…
And I’m a lonely clown.
And you finally hurt me…
More than I love you.
Yes, you closed the door,…
And you said, “We are through,”
And you finally hurt me…
More than I love you.
Danny had to go. He packed a small bag and thumbed a ride to Huoma, Louisiana, where oil companies are based, and began a search for offshore employment at the shipyards, ending up on the doorstep of Briley Marine before the sun came up. He was dead tired and hadn’t had anything to eat since he left Shreveport, but he was hopeful.
The sun popped up and with its warmth, arrived a tall, rough looking character.
“You lookin’ for work, kid?”
Danny nodded.
“Well, we don’t have any openings.”
“Mister, I hitched down here all the way from Shreveport. My wife just left me for another man, and I haven’t got any place to go or any future unless somebody gives me a break.”
He looked Danny over. “Maybe…maybe today is your lucky day. Come on in my office and I’ll make a few calls.”
The office was small witha window overlooking the shipyard and docks. Pelicans danced in the early morning pale blue sky. Danny waited patiently fwhile the man picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello, Baxter! How’s it going? Uh-huh…OK…Say, listen, do you still need a deckhand for the Clifton Briley? Uh-huh…OK, talk to you later,” and with that he hung up. “Like I said, kid, looks like today is your lucky day.”
The Clifton Briley was a pretty red, white, and blue supply ship. Danny would never forget his first voyage, the smell of the salty ocean and dolphins playing tag with the bow of the boat. He was eager, a quick study, and a hard worker, and the captain soon trusted him enough to let him pilot the ship when they were out to sea. The food was excellent and the working conditions were good, but Danny found he would get seasick in stormy weather, he tried to overcome the nausea, but to no avail, and after sixty days he returned to Shreveport.
Later, the sea behind him, the old familiar pain crept in again. He longed for his wife and child, and he sought them out.
John Lummus hadn’t wasted any time moving in on them. He had rented a house trailer for them, and one Sunday morning Danny waited in his white F100 Ford pickup truck with his newly-bought 308 caliber hunting rifle, brokenhearted—and with murder on his mind.
Sure enough…“Heeeeere’s Johnny!” Down the road he came with Omatha and Kiley in his big green truck. John pulled up into the driveway like he owned it. When Danny saw his daughter was with them, he knew he couldn’t kill her mother before the child’s eyes. So he got out of his truck and made for John.
Omatha and Kiley got out first on the right side. Danny stood waiting for John to get out on the left, and as soon as the door opened, Danny began punching John. He tried to get his hands on Danny, but he just ran into one fist after another. Thud! His eye swelled shut. Thud! Thud! His lip burst open, but he still kept charging. He grabbed Danny by the hair and almost broke his neck in his big pulp-wooder hands. Danny managed to break free and squared off, ready to continue.
John stood there not knowing what to do. Danny sensed this and asked, “Well, Johnny? You done?” John nodded and both men went inside. Omatha brought John a wet washcloth and cleaned him up, while Danny held his daughter and hugged her close.
“What do you want, Omatha?” he asked, bouncing Kiley on his knee.
“I want a divorce,” she stated coldly.
“All right. You’ve got it.”
Danny kissed Kiley goodbye and left, not having the heart to take his daughter from her mother.
Six months later, Danny’s wife divorced him.
“Danny took his divorce very hard,” said Claudia. “The Sheriff came to our door with the separation papers, and tried to hand them to Danny. Danny got a glance at them, and he started screaming and running around and around the house. I don’t know how many times he ran around the house screaming, ‘No, no, no! She’s my wife…this can’t happen…we can fix it—No, no, no!’ We finally caught him and got him calmed down. And his daddy told him, ‘You have to take the papers. And you have to sign them.’ So he did.”
Without you…what shall I do?
Cast my dreams into cold, cold streams?
Pluck the rose from my heart
And sadly depart?
If you run away…
What can I do? What can I say
To bring you back my way?
Without you…what shall I do?
Toss in my sleep…wake up and weep…
Into depression seep…
Off a jagged cliff leap?
Life ceases for me…
My mind’s eye longs to see
The beauty and life that is you and me
THE STARTING GUN
The first rape I ever committed came as a direct result of rejection. When the sheriff served me with my divorce papers, I realized it was final. Omatha had divorced me and I was deeply wounded, dejected, angry, confused and depressed. The next night, I broke in on this gorgeous brunette college student and took out all my frustration and pain on her.
She was a delicious brunette discovered on a night patrol. He was searching the darkness for that portal to altered states of projected thought, and there she was—framed in the window of his fantasy. But this time Danny broke the ancient taboo, and progressed from fantasizing to bringing the dream to life.
“Why did Omatha leave me? Doesn’t she know nobody could ever love her like I do? Nobody!” The disturbed man gritted his teeth, his fists balled up like hammers against his side. He was bitter and lost. Up one dark street and down another he wandered, through yards of people he didn’t know, following the Spirits that led him, trying to find release.
Slipping from shadow to shadow, he came to a back yard he had visited a couple of times before. It was a warm night. Fall hadn’t set in yet, and the front and rear doors were left open to allow the fresh air in. Only the screen doors were hooked shut.
Two college girls had recently rented the house—one a voluptuous brunette, the other a plump dishwater blonde. The beautiful brunette was on the living room couch studying. The Eyes were at the kitchen window watching.
Dannnnneeeee…
The gentle wind called ever so softly, just a whisper to his soul.
Take off your socks…Put
them on your hands…
He did, and slipped his Dingo boots back on. Next?
Mask your identity…
“That’s right, gotta hide my face. I only live three blocks away. Can’t let her see who I am.”
There was a large chamois cloth draped across the back of a metal chair on the porch. He picked up the 3-pronged gardening digger next to it and tore two holes in the cloth. Then he draped it over his head, lined up the holes and tied it in a knot behind his head.
Now unlatch the door…
“Ah, yes! I remember when my dad would lock me out of the house as a child, and I’d wedge a stick between the screen door and the frame and wiggle it up and down below the hook-latch until I tripped it.”
Now he was ready. He gained entry and pressed through the utility room and the kitchen. He bounded into the living room, heart pounding.
The startled brunette sat stock-still as the masked stranger towered over her brandishing the digger like a miniature pitchfork.
“Whaaa—what do you want?” she asked, laying the textbook in her lap.
“Get up!” the intruder snarled. “Do as I say!”
He grabbed her by the arm, yanking her across the room. Books and reading glasses went one way, the woman the other.
Into the bedroom he dragged her, fighting all the way. But she did not scream. She was using all her energy to resist.
She broke free and hopped over the king-size bed in two hops. She pranced back and forth trying to get as far from her attacker as possible. But the tiger had its prey in sight and he could smell the pulse of sex running through her.
He dashed around the foot of the bed, but she jumped onto it. It was “Tag—you’re it!” until the cat grew bored toying with his little mouse. He jumped onto the bed and flung her down.
“Ahhhhh! YEEEEE!” she screamed.
“Shut up!” Visions of Omatha flashed through his mind. “Shut up, I said! You do that again and I’ll kill ya!”
The damsel grew silent.
“That’s better! Look, I don’t want to hurt you. So just behave yourself!” He turned her over on her belly and pulled her over the edge of the bed bent at the middle like she was praying. “Let’s have a look atcha!”
“My—my roommate will be home soon!”
“You better hope she doesn’t come home while I’m here, little girl. Now shut up and be still!” He pushed up her black sweater, bunching it up around her armpits, then pulled it over her shoulders and head.
Bare flesh bathed in the light pouring in from the hallway greeted his eager eyes. He tried to unsnap her bra, but he was so nervous, he couldn’t do it at first. Finally he succeeded at the task and clumsily stripped the bra from her.
Pausing, he stroked the bare beauty of her shoulders as his swelling organ throbbed to life with unbridled desire. The moment lingered…and then he turned her over.
“Oh, what lovelies you have!” He pawed one plump breast, kneading it roughly. “Let’s get your jeans off.” And her pants were removed. When the panties hit the floor, that was the starting gun.
Standing there silhouetted by the hall light looking down at his pretty prize, he unbuttoned his 501 Levis.
“What are you staring at?” he grumbled. “Don’t look at me!” He reached over and placed the sweater over her face.
“I can’t breathe!”
“OK.” He arranged it so it only covered her eyes. “Is that better?” “Uh-huh.”
Then he grabbed her legs and forced them open. Finding the moist center of pleasure, he slipped himself through her opening and ravaged her. It was over quickly.
The rapist put on his pants and scrambled out of the house. He ran for two long blocks in a panic, still gripping the pitchfork digger. When he came to the big canal between Canal Street and West Canal, he threw the digger as far as he could—splash!—into the shallow, slimy green cold waters. Frantic and disoriented, he walked the last block to his house.
“Damn, Danny! Why did you do that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He looked up at the stars winking down on him and felt like everyone knew what he had done. The whole universe knew. His feet were on a path from which there was no return and no escape.
He couldn’t sleep that night. The next day, he got up early to apologize to the woman and deliver himself into her hands. Whatever she chose to do with him would be fine. He was so miserable and ashamed he was beside himself. He didn’t know what else to do except face it.
But it was not to be. As he made his way towards her, a big male exited her house and marched purposefully towards Danny. Whether the man was her father, her brother or her lover, Danny never found out. He did what he knew best. He ducked through a yard to the next block and ran away.
LIKE JESSE JAMES
I wanted to be the direct opposite of my cop pop. That’s how Ennad came to be everything my demanding father hated.
After the divorce, all the stops were yanked out and my emotions swirled down the funnel of despair. I was suicidal. I had to get relief somehow. I stole Dad’s service revolver and came very close to blowing my brains out. I even went so far as to stick the barrel of the .38 caliber into my mouth and cock the hammer. I put my finger on the trigger and gazed into the starlit sky. My hand shook as the tears flowed down my face. But I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pull that trigger.
In my tortured state of mind, I thought, “OK, Danny. You can’t do it yourself. So get someone else to end your miserable life for you.”
I’ll become an outlaw like Jesse James
I’ll rob and steal till a bullet with my name
Sets my weary soul free.
SHE DOESN’T WANT TO KNOW
Shortly after Omatha divorced me, my daughter Kiley, who was only 3-1/2 at the time, was lent to me one weekend. I hadn’t seen her in about six months.
It was a wonderful visit. I took Kiley for a walk and showed her off to all my friends. She was so beautiful in her pink and white baby lace dress and white shoes. I held her in the crook of my right arm and she put her tiny arm around my neck. Father and daughter. God, I loved her. Still do.
I took her to the playground. I put her in a swing and gave her a push. She giggled and seemed to be enjoying herself. I loved her so much I thought my heart would explode!
I only had her for a couple of hours and then I had to let her go back to her mother a hundred miles away. I kissed her fat little cheek. She hugged my neck and the last picture in my memory is my mother leading her away by the hand. Kiley turned around and glanced back at me with those big blue wide-open eyes of hers. Then she put her index finger in her mouth and turned away. That’s the last time I saw her.
It broke my heart in ways I couldn’t even begin to understand. I was beside myself. I felt betrayed by Omatha. Each day that ticked off the calendar found me more depressed and angry. Yes, I was hurt and I was angry!
I love Kiley and she will always be part of my very heart. She doesn’t remember looking up at me from her crib with those big blue eyes as I wept, praying that I would be the kind of father she deserved. No, she doesn’t remember how I used to put her up on my shoulders and give her pony rides, holding on to her chubby little feet as she pulled my hair, giggling with glee. No, she only sees me as a distant dark figure she never knew and apparently doesn’t want to know. I’ve written her several times, but my daughter chooses to reject her real father. If that’s the way she wants it, I can’t say I blame her, but I deeply regret it.
ALWAYS A GENTLEMAN
“One day after he divorced, Danny asked me for a ride,” said his Aunt Agnes. “And I asked him, ‘Well, where are you going?’ And he said, ‘I’m dating this little girl.’
“Well, come to find out, her name was Mary Lynn, and she was just about 17 years old. She lived in Blanchard, Louisiana and she belonged to the Church of the Nazarene. That’s the same denomination I belong to, and she knew some members in my family. At that time Danny was really involved in church work. She was a real pretty little blonde blue-eyed girl, and the family was a nice quiet family. Her mother and dad both worked, and she really cared about him. Well, he dated her several times, took her to church there at her church. I don’t know where else they went. I know he had a few dates with her.
“I put him off at her house one day, and I said, ‘Danny, you’ll be there with her by yourself. Always remember to be a gentleman.’ And he said, ‘Auntie, I know where my place is.’ But when his mother found out that Danny had been married and divorced, she wouldn’t let her daughter see him any more. After they broke up, Mary Lynn asked me about him, and she made the remark,’ He was always a gentleman, I really cared about him.’”
A CLOSE ENCOUNTER
Shortly after his divorce from Omatha, Danny had a close encounter of the scary kind. He had met this cute gal who worked for General Electric and made a date. It was to be quite an evening at her trailer out in the country. She had given him directions over the phone, and—you guessed it—he got lost and ended up driving down a long lonely dirt country road to nowhere.
The sun set and it got dark. Danny turned on the headlights so he could see. The radio was blasting. The dual spears of light cut through the night as the white Ford disappeared into the isolated deep bottom.
Finally he just stopped in frustration. He couldn’t find the damn road she lived on and it was getting late.
Danny was just sitting there with pussy on his mind when the headlights began to flicker off and on and the radio did the same. Then the truck stalled and it wouldn’t start again.
Sitting there in total darkness, Danny was puzzled. The truck had never acted like that before. Maybe it was out of gas? No. He had filled it up earlier that day. So what was going on? It made no sense. After a few minutes of whirring the starter, the truck cranked up with a roar. He turned it around and sped out of there lickety-split!
As he left the bottom, the radio and lights began to work properly as before. After he drove a short distance, he caught something unusual out of the corner of his left eye. He put the brakes on and backed up, with a swirl of dust dancing in the headlights and pouring into the cab through the opened window.
When he got back to the spot where he first glimpsed the object, he stopped to let the dust settle a bit before getting out. He opened the door and stood near the truck, but went no further. What he saw freaked him out BIG TIME!
There in an open field approximately 150 yards beyond a barbed-wire fence sat a huge glowing pulsating blue-white object with a rainbow-like ring pulsing around it. Danny started to jump the fence and check it out up close, but the prickling hairs on the back of his neck told him to get the hell out of there—FAST!
Danny made tracks for the highway and continued his quest for pussy. Now where the hell did that gal live? He shrugged off what he had seen as just a strange occurrence that must have a logical explanation.
He found a country store with a pay-phone out front and got new directions. Finally he found the chick’s trailer.
After they had a couple of drinks, he casually mentioned that on the way over to her place, he might have seen a UFO.
She cocked her head to one side like a cockatoo and asked, “What time did you see it?”
“About 9:30 or 10:00.”
She looked uneasy and said, “You may very well have seen one. Just an hour ago, my son and I were listening to the radio, and the DJ said he was getting calls from people saying they saw a UFO.”
What an experience! Danny would never forget it, but he only mentioned it a couple of times because it gave folks the impression he was as nutty as a fruitcake.
DANNY’S NUTS
It was Saturday night in Shreveport, and Danny’s nuts were Rolling around the skating rink.
Danny must have stuck out like a sore thumb—this 6’3” giant towering over the little kids scurrying around the rink. But even though he felt a little out of place, he loved to roller skate and he always looked out for the little fellas.
The teenagers had brought some of those multicolored wands you snap and they glow in the dark orange, blue or green. They were passing these wands around, throwing them from person to person. A little game they were playing.
Well, this cute little girl pitched one and it went flying down the rink. Danny picked it up and brought it back to the girl, who giggled and skated off. Little did Danny know, that was supposed to mean something. Because the girl’s brat of a boyfriend came over to Danny and took a swing at him. Danny just pushed the punk down. I mean he was just a teenager, and Danny was a grown man.
Being the polite chap he was, Danny reached down to help the chap up. Now, when you are balancing on roller skates, in order to help someone up off the floor, you must straddle that individual to keep from falling. You get the picture? Well, the jealous little punk balled up his fist and drove it straight up into Danny’s left nut. OUCH!
He had an operation called a varicocele and when last seen, Danny’s nuts were still Rolling.