CHAPTER 20
(Floyd "Money" Mayweather Leaves me With a Beating heart)
When Floyd fought Manny Pacquio I had a $777 wager on Floyd. He was a heavy favorite so I only netted about $345 on the fight. I still to this day never watched the Floyd vs. Manny PAC fight and in fact slept in my truck thru the entire thing. Prior to leaving Stan Koch and Sons I had quite a lot of "play money" built up in my piggly wiggly bank. Many people wanted to watch famous UFC fighter Mcgregor take on a fight with Mayweather but it was always said that it couldn't possibly happen as boxing and martial arts are entirely two different sports. But money talks. People wanted it to happen. We all wanted it to happen. But the question remained, did Trump want it to happen?
I clearly remember staring at my iPhone scrolling through the daily news and seeing a picture of Trump having a meeting with Floyd. I knew Trump owned lots of casinos and most likely had clout beyond the imagination when it came to sports. My very first thought at the picture was Is Trump possibly encouraging Mayweather to blow the fight? obviously the heavy odds would be on Mayweather and he would go 50-0.
But like most people, I didn't trust a man that financially capitalized from people's addictions. It would be a nice payout on Mcgregor if Floyd did indeed blow the fight and it also seemed like Mcgregor needed some new shorts. Just to be a smart ass I placed an exact online wager of $666 on Mcgregor and texted my brother "I just gave Mcgregor $666 to go buy some new shorts". My gut was telling me that those white nationalist referees would find a way for Mcgregor to win and Vegas casinos would hit jackpot as most of the loot would be on Mayweather. I knew it would be a real exciting fight to watch if I wasn't stuck in a cornfield chasing crickets in between loads. I could never keep my body awake that late anyways so I'd have to later watch YouTube clips.
Separating from the Kochy Monster was going to hit my stockpile of Cizash if I didn't think fast and figure out cheap lodging as I already knew unemployment would be yet another no no as they would deem my working environment perfectly suitable to have a judge and his wifey follow me around like puppy dogs while I drove a truck where virtually all the bells and whistles excluding the electric mirrors were remotely controlled by the Kochy Monster dictating whether or not I really needed a full 8 hours of sleep in that sleeper berth. So what did I do knowing that the ball had been thrown to me and an entire team of peek-a-boos were looking to sack me at the one yard line? I busted a power move. Just a day or two after getting off my self paid plane back to PA I immediately packed up my small belongings and moved to Ft.Wayne Indiana. My hotel hookup in Denver PA was curtailed by some shirt tucking politicking type guy that didn't fancy my kind so I had to head west if I wanted to fend for my piggy bank. Because I was a trucker I knew FT.Wayne had some really cheap hotels and plenty of stripper clubs to spend my hotel savings on.
I trolled my 2003 Hyundai up and down Rt.930 until I found a hotel advertising the cheapest weekly rates. Boy was that a big mistake. I was going to quickly find out that you get what you pay for, so much quality is expected when you pay that three bucks extra for a Hallmark card but the same can't hold true when you check into the Hallmark Inn with a weekly rate of only $119.00.
Cash, cash, and "Cizash" is the way the hotel owners in Ft.Wayne like to roll. My debit card meant nothing to the Hallmark Inn and I was told I could use the ATM machine in the lobby and pay the $4.00 fee or head down the street to the nearest bank. My personal bank was only a stone throw away and I wasn't up for the $4.00 ATM fee. I was sure to take an extra hundred out in case the FT.Wayne dancer chicks had some friendly discounts as well. Why couldn't PA have some "hookup" rates like this? I thought to myself, I gotta travel nearly 600 miles just to keep what's mines!
The desk clerk lady gave me a cordial smile. It was slightly an impish smile like she couldn't wait to show me some funny.
Something very,very funny. Does this out of towner really think there's gonna be some bounty fresh towels and cute little coffee pods waiting for him in there? She most likely was thinking.
The dirty blond haired desk lady had a few years on me but still managed to be a lot skinnier than me. By the way she was smiling and gloating I could tell I was in for a big treat.
"Would you like to see your room first before I write you up a receipt? You should probably see what I have available first."
I reddened in the face a little bit. I was a stranger to this town and I don't warm up to people quickly. I didn't want to know this lady on a personal level because I knew she would pepper me with questions eventually. Questions like So where is your wife? Are you out here for vacation? Why are you staying so far away from where you live? I was convinced there would be questions like that. It was July of 2017 and my only goal was to survive a very hot crucial summer. I needed air conditioning. I needed A LOT of air conditioning for this fat boy.
"Yeah I guess I may as well."
The desk lady clasped her hands together. "Great! Just come right this way."
I followed the lady through a hall door and the moment we stepped into the middle of the pentagon I was plagued with flashbacks and PTSD.
Oh hell no! Hell no! I thought to myself.
I will never forget the creepy vibes I felt getting the tour of the discounted stay at the HallMark Inn Mental Institution. I honestly couldn't tell the difference between this hotel and the Southwestern Virginia Mental Institution! The facilities were quasi in every way!
Goosebumps trickled down my forearms as we traipsed along dodging hoboes eying me up like I was fresh meat. This was not cool. I was the white boy devoid of any nicotine stained teeth. My car wouldn't be parked in the bike rack along with the other motel squatters.
As I followed the Queen around the Hallmark inmates momentarily stepped out of their huts to pay tribute to the lady that was not showing any bias towards collecting their monthly "nut checks" that the governmental golden goose laid faithfully on the third of every month. Each and every resident was shooting malicious "go away" darts with their eyes as if I was the next Michael Moore encroaching upon their pajama lifestyle when I should be paying my lofty Hilton fees. This was Their system. If I thought I could land my lazy ass into their pajama roll out of bed at noon system I was highly mistaken!
We passed a swarthy gentleman with a glassy eye still standing at attention patiently awaiting for the motel Queen to put him at ease. By the way he bugged out I don't even think he realized he still had the freedom to leave the facility. The building was constructed with a pentagon like design just like the Luny bin in Virginia where the court yard was flanked with all the motel room entrances where everybody could peep on everybody.
One by one the miserable looking "Dawn Of The Dead" crowd stepped out of their huts to get a good look at me. I smelled not of smoke but before I could even see my room a snaggle tooth Jerry Springer runaway chick was already asking me for cigarettes so she could choke the baby inside her belly.
I followed the desk clerk Queen towards the motel room at the eleven O'clock position. The door was left open so some of the mildew could air out. The carpet made swooshing sounds as we stepped in the floor room puddles from the leaky fridge. So much crackhead "romping" had been performed that the mattress springs were all sprung out and the mattress was now shaped all banana like portraying a hammock.
The desk clerk Queen smiled as I quickly poked around in disbelief.
"So what do you think? Will you take it?"
I chuckled. "Do you have any other rooms?" I fooled with the air conditioner knob. "This air conditioner doesn't even work."
"I have other rooms but they're $200.00 a week."
I was pissed off. They should be paying Me money to stay in this shit hole not vice versa. I wasn't down to my last dollar just yet and still had two nickels to rub together. All this sudden adversity over a simple name change? Who had tried to kill Bob Miller? Why had the Lancaster County Courts felt so threatened by smiling Bob that they opted to stalk me from over 1000 miles away? Did I not have the constitutional right to fool some broad into the sack like the rest of those woo players?
Why was society saying no to smiling Bob?
As we walked out of the soaky hut I tried to scour the crowd for Dickey. Surely the nurses had had enough of him and a place like this just might end up being a place willing to work with his $600 monthly SSI "Nut check". And where did I coin the terminology "Nut check"? I didn't. "Nut check" was coined by a comical Philly couple that me, my brother, and mother met on a train when a perfectly healthy junky gave us a good scare by demanding the entire car's attention and we all thought he was going to tell us he had a bomb. But he didn't. He was insisting that all of us on the car were supposed to pay our hobo tax and give him money. I was buying his BS story but a hometown Philly couple put the young fella right in his place and it was hysterically funny to watch. Philly Hometown boo-boo bear wasn't buying any of his bullshit. I could still hear her comical words to the GI-Joe man insisting "His" problems were "Our" problems and we all needed to empty our wallets. I knew my mother was intrigued at this North Philly free show on the train as we were headed to Philly to check out a thrifty high MPG car that mother wanted to buy.
The Philly lady put the Jabrony Pony right in his place. "Oh you and everybody else wants money too! Oh boo-hoo! Sit down! There's nothing wrong with you!"
It was hysterically funny but I was miraculously able to keep my giggles stifled inside my mind so they wouldn't show up on my face. For all I knew this dudes ball of coke was running low and he could open fire on all of us and I had mother along.
But the Philly native "B-S"er defended his bogus story. "I'm just trying to get train money to head up north."
The lady sat next to her boyfriend and listened but still wasn't buying it.
"Oh bullshit! We've heard all this before! You get a nut check like everybody else! Stop distracting the train! Sit down man!"
Even the imploring hobo chuckled knowing he had been caught and his story was a bit bogus. North Philly Boo-bear was shutting down his side gig right on the train in front of all of us.
He tried to hide his chuckles by wiping his nose with his GI-Joe sleeve. "That's not true! I don't have my monthly nut check!" But then the man finally told us the truth. "Well.....almost it's actually coming soon."
Ironically my mother didn't find this train scene all that amusing but I had to hide my giggles into my sleeve too because I sure missed those good "Go coo-coo for cocoa cocoa puff times" and the the Star Trek commercial me and my dad used to chuckle at of Mr. Spock getting beamed down to earth and right away asking how to get on disability.
But as I tried to put a survival plan together in Ft.Wayne Indiana I realized that no coo-coo puffs would be dropping out of the sky. I was on my own dime trying to make ends meet with my hard earned BillyBig rigging dollars I had saved up while working for the Kochy Monster in Minnesota. I know beggars can't be choosers but I wasn't begging. I was a paying customer and I wasn't going to have these zombies follow me around all day and poke away at my Lucky Charms. Oh hell no was tenth DUI convicted "Bicycle Joe" gonna make my stay feel like jail without the razor wired walls.
The desk clerk Queen could tell I was bothered. "So I take it your not that interested?"
I was honest with her. "I'm sorry mam. I can't see myself staying here."
"Okay that's fine. I understand I guess. Let's go back to the front desk and I'll give your money back."
"Okay."
The desk clerk lady refunded my cash and the moment I stepped foot outside of the Hallmark hotel a black and white cruiser pulled into the lot and nosed it's way to the side of the entrance.
Oh here we go again I thought to myself, The peek-a-boos are here and gonna pepper this desk clerk lady with questions about Uncle B the moment I exit the parking lot.