6720 s florida ave

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Hi peeps. I have ~165k in index funds and have ~40k saved up for an investment rental property. It would be my first RE purchase.
My parents are in real estate and have been encouraging me to get a rental property for some time. They have offered to manage my first property for me. This would include: Reno and repairs (labor, they are both very handy, I would cover costs), screening, ops, admin, etc.
They are in south Florida and so it would be here. It would be a ~200k 1BR.
I have been maxing out my 401k, Roth IRA, HSA, etc accounts for some time now and I’m proud and happy with how far I’ve come.
They don’t really “get” funds investing and I don’t really “get” real estate investing so it’s hard for us to come together, talk the same language, and device a real strategy that makes sense for me.
I want to “”diversify”” just because it seems like the right move but I really don’t know if it is. Should I just put the 40k in a brokerage account instead? What should I consider and look into before I make this move to invest in real estate, and in Florida in particular? Would you do it?

“I just had an idea pop into my head about something to do this coming weekend, and I wanted to bounce it off you two before it slips my mind” My friend Natasha said those words as the three of us sat on my couch one afternoon. I found myself sitting up slightly. Normally, Natasha was the last of our group to suggest things to do, letting Vinny, the third member of our group, or I come up with the plans to keep our free time occupied. The fact she was about to suggest something intrigued me. “What have you got in mind?” I asked her. A smile played over her face as her brown eyes seemed to flash. “How about a little ghost hunting?”
I felt Vinny sit straight up beside me. She had clearly grabbed both our attention now. The three of us were what you might call amateur ghost hunters, using very basic items we bought offline to visit some of the spookier places in the area and posting our adventures on YouTube, sort of like a crappier version of Ghost Adventures. “Now that’s one hell of a good idea” Vinny said, before a puzzled expression spread over his face. “But, I mean, where? We’ve already done most of the places around town. The Tioga building won’t let us in after that…well, what that one resident claims we stirred up in the old ballroom, and I’m not about to make the hours long drive to the Wolf Creek Inn” Natasha’s smile grew wider. “No, we don’t have to even go out of town for this one” she said, her voice dropping low, “What I’m suggesting, is we check out…” her voice trailed off, letting the suspense grow for a few seconds before finishing, “The Egyptian Theatre”
Instantly, Vinny let out a harsh bark of laughter. “HA! Now that’s a good one. You know damn good and well that the society that runs the theater won’t allow us in after hours to ghost hunt. As far as I know, they’ve never allowed any paranormal teams into the place” He pulled a face. “So, how exactly do you propose we get in there? You flutter your eyelashes for the night janitor and use your feminine charms to get us in?” Natasha still grinned, but rolled her eyes at our friend’s quip. “No, actually, I was thinking about using my lock picking skills to get us in” she declared. It was my turn to give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nope, I’m dead serious” I let out an incredulous, almost baffled snort of laughter and pulled my glasses off my face, rubbing my eyes.
The country, and, to a large extent, the entire world, became gripped in an interest, sometimes bordering on obsession with all things Egyptian when King Tut’s tomb was discovered over a century ago. Many things came out of this, including the classic 1932 monster movie The Mummy. But, one thing that also came of this fever gripping the country was a desire to build many Egyptian style buildings. And one of the buildings which took this design and ran with it, were the movie theatres. A decade after the legendary discovery, over a hundred theatres had gone up all around the country, their interiors clad with fake temple columns, paintings of sphinxes and Egyptian gods such as Anubis decorating the walls, and hieroglyphs adorning the archways. People flocked in droves to them, both to watch movies, and live performances. But, like all trends, eventually, the interest began to wane, and as the late 20th Century approached, many began to shut down and be either remodeled, or straight up demolished. Today, there’s only between five and eight Egyptian style theatres left in the entire country.
And one just so happens to be right in the town I live in.
When I moved to Coos Bay, Oregon nine years ago, I immediately fell in love with the place. Even though it’s the largest coastal town on the Oregon coast, it’s a place which is more or less perpetually frozen in time, still looking pretty much as it did between thirty and seventy years ago. And, as someone who is not exactly into the modern world, it made a perfect place for me to live and escape away from the 21st Century. I began exploring right away, driving every street of it and the town neighboring it, North Bend, along with walking every alley and back road I could to learn the layout. That’s how I learned about the supernatural element to the town.
There are many places in town which people claim supernatural occurrences take place. From the remains of the old logging buildings on the estuary, to the old Tioga Hotel which has been remodeled into apartments, there is no shortage of ghostly tales. There was even the old McCauley Hospital, which had once been the focal point of the town’s annual ghost walks until it was demolished in 2018. As a side note, I heard a rumor that a couple people broke into that place right before it got torn down. Something sure spooked them, because a friend of mine on the police force told me they gave him a fright, bursting in the night before Easter and rambling about something. I always wondered what they saw in there.
But, for me, the place in town I always loved the most, and enjoyed the most hearing about the ghostly accounts told, was the Egyptian Theatre.
Originally built as a garage in 1922, it was renovated by a man named Charles Noble into a movie theatre in 1925, where it drew in droves of people from around the area to watch films, and enjoy live vaudeville performances. It continued to operate almost to the end of the 20th Century, when other theatres began to attract younger moviegoers, and for a while, it almost seemed as though the historic building might even be closed for good and gutted. But, thanks to the efforts of local preservation societies, it was saved, and now operates as a theatre once again. They mostly play only older movies, along with live performances.
And, of course, it draws curious people for the paranormal rumors surrounding it.
For years, people have reported strange occurrences happening inside the building, both when it’s open, and after hours. Patrons and employees alike have spoken about a pervasive feeling of being watched inside the building, but finding no one there when the place was searched. There have been reports of being touched by invisible hands, a few even pushed slightly. Beyond physical interaction, employees have reported the sounds of old film projectors playing and unseen audiences laughing after hours, along with the eerie playing of the theatre’s Wurlitzer pipe organ, along with a host of other occurrences. No ghost hunting team has ever gone in to try and document these events. And to Natasha, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Legal, or not.
“Are you freaking nuts?!” Vinny exclaimed, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in if we got caught breaking and entering? The cops around here are already a bit twitchy with the druggies and the homeless. You wanna give them a reason to throw us into jail alongside them?” Natasha held up a finger, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “They won’t find out, because I have not one, but two aces in the hole here. The first is that thanks to being friends with Scott, I know the nighttime police sweeps, where they’re going to be and everything. There’ll be an hour long window where they’re not anywhere near the alley where the back door to the theatre is. We can get in and out with no threat of being spotted at all. And the second is, did you forget I’m dating Dylan now?” The realization washed over me like a wave; she had started dating the man who helped the preservation society run the theatre a month or so ago. Damn, she’s been planning this one for a while, I thought.
Vinny had a thoughtful look on his face, his green eyes darting around rapidly, but not seeing. “Hmm” he muttered, then looked at Natasha. “And you’re sure that there’s no chance of us getting caught?” he asked slowly. “Absolutely none” she said, then looked at both of us. “So, how about it?” For a few moments, there was silence, and then Vinny let out a chuckle. “What the hell, why not? The most exciting thing we’ve done the last few weeks is go down to the farmer’s market. This could shake things up a bit” I suddenly became aware that the two of them were looking at me, waiting for me to make my decision. I was always the most sensible of the three of us, doing all I could to keep us out of trouble with others as well as the law. But, I always had one nasty Achilles Heel ever since I had been a child, and that was peer pressure. So, despite the overwhelming feeling that I should tell them no, that I should say we should just find something else to do, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do it” I said simply, causing grins to break out on both of my friend’s faces.
I wish to God in retrospect that I’d just had the damn spine to stand up and say “No”
The rest of the week seemed to pass by faster than usual. Before I knew it, the weekend had arrived. We’d decided that late Saturday night would be the best time to do this, as most places downtown closed up between eleven and midnight, aside from the bars and strip club. To say I felt anxious about breaking the law, something I wasn’t used to doing at all, would be like calling a Megalodon a goldfish, but my worries about disappointing my friends ended up outweighing it. And so, at eleven-thirty, the three of us piled into my beat up Chevy Tahoe, and made our way towards downtown. As I drove us down Ocean Boulevard, which connected the two sides of town, something settled over me. I can’t exactly place it, even to this day. But it was the most uneasy feeling I’ve ever experienced. But I did my best to push it away. It’s nothing, Troy. It’s just because you’re, understandably, worried about this. Plus, the road being deserted isn’t helping much.
My mental chiding seemed to help center me a bit, which was a good thing. The road was now angling downward, and a moment later, we drove into downtown. The darkened shapes of the closed stores seemed to rise up higher on either side of us than they looked during the daytime. We’d decided to cruise by the front entrance first, just to see if anyone were still inside. As I turned the truck onto the main drag, the sign for the theatre rose high above us, a depiction of an Egyptian pharaoh next to the yellow and white letters which proclaimed its name to everyone who drove through town. I spared a glance as we passed it. The lit up marquee windows showed that The Blues Brothers and Jaws would be shown soon. For whatever reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass doors that showed the building’s darkened interior. The uneasy feeling had returned, and, for a moment, it felt as though if I did look, I would see someone, or something staring back out at me. And then we passed it, taking the next right and looping back around to Anderson Ave.
I turned the truck into the narrow alley drive which ran along the back of the theatre and neighboring buildings. Parking right next to the rear doors would be extremely conspicuous, so I pulled up a bit further and parked in a carport like area. Shutting off the engine, I turned to my two friends. “Well, this is it” I said, “Last chance to turn back if anyone’s having second thoughts” I’d hoped that either Vinny or Natasha would’ve gotten cold feet in the last few minutes, allowing us to go do something else. But there was no such luck. “Are you kidding me?” Natasha said from the passenger seat, “We are far too close to back out now!” Vinny grunted from behind me. Well, shit. Resigning myself to the fact they were determined to go through with this, I let a deep breath out through my nose and nodded. The others opened their doors and hopped out. A moment later, I followed.
The night air was cool and crisp on my skin as we slowly walked back down the alley to the rear of the yellow-ish, tan building. Three different sets of red double doors were built into the back of the theatre. Natasha pulled something out of her coat pocket, and I realized, with a small pang of surprise, that it was a lock pick set. A legitimate lock pick set. “Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered to her. She shrugged and smiled. “I have my ways of getting things” she said simply, then pointed to the far right set of doors. “We’ll have a bit of cover from that electrical box. You two keep an eye out while I deal with the lock” And with that, she scurried forward, bending down in front of the door handles. Vinny and I stood guard, each of us looking down both ends of the alley. As the soft sound of Natasha messing with the lock filtered over to me, I realized just how quiet it was. And how eerie hearing downtown so quiet was. Aside from a few distant booms and bangs, and the far off sound of a dog barking, all I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it whipped between the old buildings.
An involuntary shiver cascaded up my spine, and I tried again to reason myself back to a relative sense of calm. “Get a grip, dude, you’re gonna be fine” I whispered under my breath. But this time, it felt as though I weren’t able to entirely convince myself. I suddenly became aware of a creeping sensation, one which made me shoot a look around. Nothing moved in the stillness, no indication of anyone besides us being in the alley. And, yet…I was overcome with the distinct feeling of being watched. Not by either of my friends. But…by someone else. Before I had a chance to even think about it, I heard a rather loud click, and Natasha let out a soft laugh of triumph. “We’re in, ladies and gentleman!” she declared, standing up and pulling on the door. It opened silently, the streetlight in the alley casting a small shaft of light into the darkness beyond. Turning, she waved an arm at Vinny and I. “Come on, let’s get inside”
Before either of us could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the dark. I shot a look at Vinny, who simply shrugged. “After you, my man” he whispered. I let out a deep sigh, and then moved to the door. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small flashlight, and then pulled on the heavy metal, slipping inside, Vinny right behind me. The darkness swallowed us as the door closed. For a moment, a small rush of panic from not being able to see flashed through me, before a light appeared beside me. It wasn’t from a flashlight, though; instead, a small, orange flame flickered beside me. “Don’t turn on your flashlights yet, just follow me” Natasha said, the flame making her face seem to dance and move behind it. She turned and headed away, leaving us no choice but to follow. I listened to her and didn’t turn on my flashlight. But every fiber of my being was screaming at me to. Because the feeling of being watched out in the alleyway? Had quintupled in here. The best way to describe it, was that we were angrily being stared at. And I didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Natasha led us up a flight of steps and pushed open another door. “We’re here” she said, still keeping her voice low, “You can turn on your flashlights now” Thank you, God, I silently said, snapping mine on and casting a bright white light into the room we’d entered. A moment later, so did my two friends’ lights. The beams played around, and I heard Vinny let out a bit of a gasp. “Ho-lyyyy shit” he muttered.
Natasha had guided us into the main theatre. The ceiling rose high above our heads, almost out of sight of even the flashlights. Rows upon rows of red movie seats stretched out and away from us, seeming almost unending in the shadows. The walls were all covered in hieroglyphs, all still original from the 1920s. To our left, the second story, which housed a smaller row of seats, along with the projection room rose about twenty feet above us. And to the right, was the stage itself. It was flanked by two huge columns, the screen rolled up and revealing a mosaic of an Egyptian building on the back wall, with two men clutching staffs sitting on either side. Directly in front of the stage sat the organ, its seating bench tucked beneath it.
“Okay, this is a trip to be in at night!” Natasha exclaimed excitedly, then pulled the backpack she’d been wearing off her shoulders. Dropping it into a seat, she unzipped it and began pulling items from it. “Guys, here” she said, holding them out. Vinny stepped forward and grabbed the camcorder from her; as someone who’d had a lifelong dream of being a filmmaker, he was our resident cameraman. I stepped forward and took two items from her: an infrared thermometer and an EVP recorder. The rest, she placed on the ground, and then faced Vinny. “Alright, tell me when you’re recording” He fumbled with the camcorder for a second, then shot her a thumbs up. Instantly, she took on a somber, eerie expression, giving an admittedly creepy look at the camera. “Well, well, welcome back to The Three Ghostkuteers, everyone. I hope you all have been well since our last trip. Tonight, you join us in a very, very special place, and one close to home for us. We are currently in the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay, Oregon, one of the last remaining in the country. It was built in the 1920s by a man named Charles Noble-“
I turned away, tuning her out as I did. The woman really, really enjoys being in front of the camera. Better her than me. Shining my light around, I looked up at the balcony. I could see the small hole in the projection booth where the movie projector would shine out onto the screen. Something caught the beam’s light, reflecting off it slightly, and I aimed the light at the wall. It was a wrought iron light fixture, one which had been shaped into the figure of a King Cobra, poised to strike. Gazing around, I saw they adorned much of the walls. I let out a small shudder at it. God, do I hate snakes. Thankfully, though, the feeling of being watched I’d had in the alley and the darkened back of the theatre had seemingly disappeared. Yeah, see, what’d I tell you, Troy? Nothing but your nerves.
Natasha had finished her opening monologue and moved to the edge of the stage, on which she placed the small, square spirit box. “And now, let’s see if anyone would like to speak with us” she said, flicking it on. Instantly, the silence of the theatre was shattered by the sound of static, intermittently interrupted by quick snippets of radio shows being picked up. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?” she called out into the huge room. The static and snippets were the only sound to answer her. After a minute, she tried again. “Are there any spirits who’d like to communicate with us?” There was still nothing. Vinny panned the camera from the box to Natasha as she paced back and forth for a few minutes. A small look of disappointment flooded over her face, but she instantly plastered it over with the same look she’d given the camera before. “Well, it looks like the spirit box isn’t gonna work tonight, so we’re gonna have to try something else” She pulled out an EVP recorder identical to mine and switched it on. “Let’s try this instead, shall we? Remember, by the way guys, if you’re new here and want to see more, to like and subscribe-“
I turned away again, feeling a small pang of irritation flow through me. This is freakin’ ridiculous, man. The longer we stay in here, the more chance we have of getting caught. Truth be told, as much as I enjoyed ghost hunting, I didn’t even really believe in the paranormal. In all the years the three of us had filmed together, not once had we caught anything, on tape or otherwise. In fact, many times we’d had to fake spooky occurrences in order to make sure our videos got any views at all. This is your own fault, man, I silently chided myself, you’re the one who couldn’t stand up to them and say no. You really, seriously need to grown a spine and learn how to say no. The mental self lecture was furthering my rotten mood, and I began to feel a wave of anger at my two friends, as well as myself boil up.
“Hell with this” I finally muttered, then turned and began walking up the aisle. “Troy, where the hell are you going?” I heard Natasha call out behind me. I stopped, not looking over my shoulder, but quietly aiming my voice behind me and allowing a hint of irritation to seep into it. “I’m gonna go check out the second floor balcony, okay? I don’t exactly like just standing here” For a moment, there was silence, and then her voice came, soft and almost apologetic. “Okay, go ahead” Before she could say anything more, I strode away, walking to the open doorway which led out of the theater and into the concession area. I hooded my flashlight beam with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally shine out of the glass entrance doors into the street and looked around. The lobby and concession stand took up most of the front area, the darkened shape of it stretching along the far wall.
Taking a few steps ahead, I turned and looked up at the wall above me. Large, blue letters stretched out from one side of it to the other. Through these doors pass the most wonderful people. I snorted softly. “Yeah, unfortunately, not tonight” I shook my head, then looked around. And nearly jumped out of my skin. Something also seemed to jump back. I felt my heartbeat begin to race in my chest and my breath quickened. “Shit…” I let out weakly, then slowly moved forward. After a few steps, I suddenly realized what I’d seen and let out a soft laugh of relief.
“Your own damn reflection, you fucking pussy” Shaking my head, I turned away from the glass wall and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At the base of them, I stopped and shone my flashlight up. “Ooh, boy” I said quietly. Sitting next to the stairway like a sentry, was a huge, golden statue of a pharaoh. It towered over me, and I estimated that, were it be standing straight up, it’d easily be between eight and ten feet tall. It stared straight ahead at the wall ahead of it, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shiver as I stared at it. It just seemed so damn eerie in the dark, and I quickly moved past it, heading up the stairs and stepping out onto the second story balcony.
I shone my light around. Red seats again surrounded me, though this time far fewer. Ahead of me, I could see the balcony’s edge and the hulking shape of the main stage beyond. I could also see the beams of my friends’ flashlights playing over it, and hear both of their voices speaking softly. Deciding while I was up here to at least check out the projection booth, I strode over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Feeling my irritation bubble over into exasperation, I jiggled the handle in some stupid attempt to open it. But the door stayed shut. I turned away and rubbed my eyes, again hearing the voices of my friends softly filtering up to me from down below.
“Hey, if there really are any ghosts, or spooks, or specters, or whatever in here? If you’re actually real, could you appear to us, please?” I whispered to no one, “That way my friends can get what they want and I can go home” I received only silence in reply. I hadn’t really expected anything, anyways. You know what? Screw this, I’m going back down there and telling them I’m going home, with or without them. This is beyond stupid, I just broke the law for what? For nothing! For something dumb as hell. And with that, I turned to walk away. But I hadn’t even taken a single step when something crashed into me like a wave. The breath was driven from my lungs as I felt a massive chill shoot through me, as though I’d been doused with ice water. “What the fuck?!” I hissed through gritted teeth, then froze, my eyes going wide. The feeling of being watched had returned with a vengeance, and it had seemingly been ramped up in its intensity. I shot a look around, but saw nobody.
Still, the feeling remained, and with each passing second, it almost seemed to grow stronger. Chill after chill rolled up my spine, and even though I didn’t really believe, something deep inside me told me that it was time to get out. Okay, time to leave, I said in my head, and headed quickly for the stairs. As I reached the head, I turned to look back one final time. That’s when I saw something. It disappeared when I aimed my flashlight at it, but I swear a second earlier it had been the outline of a person, standing in the shadows and watching me. The split second sight catapulted me into motion, and I hurried down the steps, shining my light every which way but loose. Believer or not, I knew something wanted us out. I’d planned on jumping off the second to last stair and running for the main theatre floor. But as I reached the bottom, I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t place why. And then, the realization fell over me like a tsunami. I let out an involuntary gasp, and fear like I’d never felt before surged through me. I didn’t want to turn around and look. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I desperately wanted to. But, like a dumbass character in a horror movie, I couldn’t help it. I needed to look. I slowly turned, aiming my flashlight back up. And I couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, falling backwards over my own feet as I began to backpedal rapidly.
The statue of the pharaoh still sat where it had. It still towered over me, looking as imposing and eerie as ever. But it’s carved and painted eyes were no longer staring straight ahead at the wall. Instead, they had somehow moved. And when I’d turned, I’d come to find they were staring directly at me.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching the flashlight from the floor where I’d dropped it and aiming it at the statue again. It stared straight out at nothing again. But I knew what I’d seen. It hadn’t been a trick of my mind, or the light. The freaking thing’s eyes had moved to watch me as I passed down by it. I began to stammer out as I backed away from it. “Okay, that’s it, no no no no, we’re done here, fuck this shit, I’m officially a believer, we’re leaving, right now” I kept backing towards the doorway to the theatre, never taking my eyes off the statue. I was terrified I’d seen it suddenly stand up and turn to lumber after me like Boris Karloff or something.
The blaring sound of the theatre’s organ slashed through the silence, causing me to let out another strangled scream and jump almost a foot off the ground. I whipped around, thinking I would see my moronic friends tinkering with the instrument. Instead, I froze again. The theatre was no longer dark. Both of my friends had seemingly vanished from the room, as I could no longer see them. The movie screen had somehow been pulled down, and above me, I heard the whir of the movie projector playing. An old, black and white movie, one which had no sound, played on the screen, occasionally changing to show dialogue being displayed in white letters.
It was also no longer empty.
The entire theatre was packed. I saw people sitting at almost every single seat in the huge room. I could only see the backs of their heads as they watched the movie playing. At the edge of the stage, what looked like a man now sat at the organ, playing it in time with the film. A slapstick moment came across the screen, and the audience began laughing. In any other situation, it would’ve been a comforting sound. But at that moment, it was the most spine chilling sound I’d ever heard. Especially as another wave of realization crashed into me. From the little I could see, everyone in the theatre looked to be dressed in long passed fashions.
That’s when the voice, low and quiet, came from behind me. “Good evening, sir” it said. It sounded like a man’s voice, one rather low and deep pitched, but something about it paralyzed me on the spot. The voice continued, putting on an air of pleasant politeness. “We’re so glad you could make it, it’s been so long since we’ve had new patrons arrive at a showing. If I could just see your ticket, please?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, I managed to squeak out two words. “Uh, ticket?” The tone of the voice seemed to change somewhat. “Yes, your ticket. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten in. Please, let me verify it and show you to your seat” Ohhh, shit. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, thought I had shown up like a regular moviegoer. The voice’s tone became less polite. “You do have a ticket, right, sir?” I was beyond terrified to answer, but I was more terrified to remain silent. For a moment, I considered lying. But I feared what might happen if I did. So I told the truth.
“I….uh, I, uh….I don’t have a ticket, sir” I stammered out, my voice barely above a whisper. Instantly, all sound stopped in the room like someone had flipped a switch. “You…don’t have a ticket?” the voice said, all pretense of manners vanishing from it, “Then how did you get in here for the late night showing?” Oh, god. I forced myself to speak, still unable to say anything except the truth. “My…my friends and I….broke in…through the back door…to…ghost hunt…” There was silence for a few moments, and then a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. My head swiveled to look at it. Oh, fuck me sideways. It wasn’t a regular hand. It was a fucking claw. One with black skin, tipped with what looked like razor sharp nails. It sat there for a moment, then tightened; almost painfully so, making me let out a small whimper of pain.
That’s when I looked up. Everyone in the theatre had turned to look at me. My initial thought had been correct; they all wore clothing from almost a century ago, and not the stuff cosplayers wear, either. They also had very angry expressions on their faces, as if they’d just noticed the intruder among their midst. The voice finally came again, almost directly behind me. Its tone lowered, almost sounding guttural and animal, making my legs almost melt into jelly from the fear. “Then, might I make a suggestion to you and your trespassing little friends?” My breath came in rapid, ragged gasps, and I barely managed to force out the one word. “Yes?”
“LEAVE”
At the single word reply, which now more closely resembled a growl than a word, I did something I will forever wish I hadn’t. I finally turned and looked up at who was addressing me. The only way I can describe what happened is, my mind shattered. The next thing I remember, I was crashing into the back doors of the theatre into the night.
And I was screaming.
That was a month or so ago. When I’d stumbled back into the alley, I’d turned and, in what I can only call blind fear and panic, bolted for my truck. I hadn’t even heard my friends chasing after me. Not until Vinny caught up to me as I scrambled with my keys, grabbing me from behind and turning me to face him. He said the look I’d had on my face scared him and Natasha more than anything ever had before. I’d been pale as a sheet, my eyes wider than they ever thought a human’s could be. I'd been babbling softly. I’d been saying the words “They want us to leave” over and over. They didn’t ask me what had happened. They just pushed me into the backseat of my truck and drove away from there. It was clear, as I found out later on, that both of them hadn’t seen anything. As far as they were concerned before seeing me dash to the rear doors, it was just an empty theatre. Neither one of them ever asked me what I saw that night. And for that, I’m thankful. Because I could never utter from my lips what I did see.
But I’ve had nightmares since then. Horrible ones. Ones that’ve been so bad, I had to let out what happened to me, deciding to just post it here, regardless of whether people believe me or not.
Nightmares about being back in that theatre after hours. About seeing that pharaoh statue’s eyes flick in its painted sockets to look at me. About seeing all those people, people long since dead, sitting and watching the films they did when they were alive. About seeing that hand fall on my shoulder, hearing that voice, telling me not to come back until I have a ticket.
And about turning to see who the hand and voice belonged to.
The Egyptian Theatre will be celebrating its centennial this year. People are planning to show up in 1920s cars, dressed in period clothing. They’re even going to show an old, silent film as part of the festivities. But I won’t be attending it. I won’t ever go anywhere near it again. The one time I tried, a week or so ago, I started trembling with fear. And the mental image played over and over in my head.
The image of turning to see that horrible canine head attached to the human-like body, red, glowing eyes glaring down at me as it’s sharp teeth glinted in the light.
I pray to god I never will end up with a ticket to one of its late night showings.
But I can't help but fear that, like those packed into the theatre, sooner or later, we all will.

Yo glue. You don't use this place so you'll never hear this but I got to tell someone and I'm not going to send it to you and sound even crazier I don't want you thinking I'm some kind of psychopathic stalker and I want you to feel comfortable and respected with your boundaries. So let's get down to brass tacks.
Girl when I think about you and all this s*** that went on and I think about me. It reminds me of when in pulp fiction Bruce Willis is popping Marcellus Wallace (Ving rhames) in the face saying "you feel that?" That's your pride f****** with you or some s*** like that.
Man glue how the hell are my feelings going to be hurt and how can I be so selfish as to even think that I deserve to be respected or put any expectations on you I'm not going to go into huge detail. Reason being is because the rest of the world will hear it but you probably won't but at least out there in the void I'm going to make it to where the respect you deserve this voiced from me and that you're honored for the things that you've done selflessly. Being thet our sister birthday was yesterday and she's no longer with us I think she would smile from above knowing that I finally said something like this.
Hey let me say thank you for real. Thank you for shutting my ass down and thank you for this list I'm about to go through which I will go into detail at a later time.
I'm going to write a story about our lives. I'm telling you it's going to happen. I started three separate writings and I'm ready to scrap them all to tell our story. I'm going to focus on that in my writings anyways on to the summary of what glue means to me or what I acknowledge about glue.
What you were up against.
When we met. You a teenage girl. Abandoned by one parent in a very vile way. The other parent was raising you. We were running around, you got sick, and you were in the hospital for weeks with some very serious troubles. Towards the end of the hospital stay cuz I was in there with you the whole time. The other parent came said that they won't going to deal with you and for you to figure it out a young girl in the hospital. The crazy part is you had done nothing wrong. That was my first real dose of surrealism in people next to some childhood stuff from one of my mother's boyfriends. And shortly after you were told you didn't have a home to come back to as a teenage girl in the hospital the doctors came in and said you would never be able to get pregnant or bare children. You moved in with us me my mom and my sister. And after all that you have been through you would think that you'll be nervous or anxious or things will be awkward. No. You stepped into the home and you immediately brought light into it that it was missing. You immediately were a part of the family and you were a part that was missing the whole time that no one ever knew about. You became a daughter to my mother a sister to my sister and more important things than my words can express right now to me. You kept a strong mentality and glue you were always the caretaker. You dealt with me a young pig-headed man very much in love with you with the drug addiction you catered to me. But not like a slave you catered to my soul there is never someone that I can ever dream of to treat me the way you did. You were loyal man you were my everything. I was yours. None of this is going to be an order but I've traveled with you across the country. We moved to Louisiana. I got a job on the tugboats. You were in the middle of a new scary town. And here I was gone 30 days at a time. But you held on. That was a really stressful time when I look back and that was a time when even though it was an experience I regret that decision because being gone that long from you at that young seemed okay then but even though my buddy's family was around I should have been there. But we did it the best we could. Eventually that didn't work out I'll never forget two cats in a 1984 Ford escort and all our s*** driving all the way to the East Coast. That escort could do some runs now. Anyways we moved to the beach. Being close to home my drug addiction was still an active Factor at all times you held on every time you could. When we move to the beach we decided we were going to do other things we came back to the city. That's what my sister move to the beach with her friend and we were in the city and got to call she had been in a car wreck.
We fly down to the beach before that even cut my sister out of the car we made a 2-hour drive in about 45 minutes. They will my sister in you were right by her side by my side you were there fam you were going through it with me, with her, with the parents. The wheel her in she said she couldn't feel her legs. Boom paralyzed never going to walk again. Thank God she lived and thank God she has such an amazing sister beside her during it all.
After rehabilitation the situation that it happened put my mom into a absolute mental tailspin. So we stuck around as my mother could barely function to tend to my sister.. to your sister. So you a young young woman who had been s*** on by her family. Took over my mother's role and began caretaking for my sister, all the while taking care of my mom with her mental episodes and and down time, and taking care of a loving man with an addiction that had selfish tendencies and you filled the role of all three caretakers and still manage to love me and show me affection with a smile on your face. You took care of the whole house. You took care of the animals. I'm not talking about any of the good really that I did or anybody else did I just want you to be recognized here.
We decided to move to Florida after a long time of you taking care of my paralyzed sister and helping her acclimate until she started lighting it up. What she took off and became president the Honor society went back to school started doing fundraisers was in the Miss wheelchair state runnings eyeballing Ms wheelchair America..once she got in her groove... We went on to Florida.
In Florida you dealt with a man that had just found the purest cocaine he had done in a long time for dirt cheap prices. Through pretty much the whole stay we were there the years we were there. But I wasn't completely a lost cause so in Florida you became a business partner, an entrepreneur, an inventor, a teammate, a valuable asset, Chief cornerstone that all things business relied on between us and my buddy that we went into business with. Your pragmatic approach and abilities dominated with mine. The things I fell short in you could put into place... I don't want to say my inventiveness and idealism was the exact complimentary opposite to that where you lacked. But I'm going to be straight up with you you were just as inventive, sellable, full of ideas, practical enough to make it happen, and able to execute. So you were still at a young age early twenties the most amazing business partner I could ever ask for. Not to mention the fun in the sun the palm trees the tacky gold the new cars living on the beach man I was built for that s*** and I know you were. Eventually when the big collapse of the towers came, and us with our lack of savings which was a big part my fault. After September 11th the market just crashed and we didn't do business and s*** started going backwards and we sold our debt for what a couple thousand bucks? To watch my friend hold on to that business and buy us out of all that debt until it finally bankrupted was insane he really held on to that dream.
Anyways by the time we get back to our hometown not only is my sister been in a wheelchair now my sister develops a tumor on her pituitary gland Cushing's disease. My drug addiction is full force when we pull back into town. You jump right into action taking care of her everyone and by this time your family had got back in your life your parents. And you forgave them and let them in boy I'll never forget to work it took for you to get over that I remember the days that I sit with you and helped you work through that stuff. But you forgave you opened your heart and you opened your arms and embrace family. And you took care of everyone.
We get married. I get you pregnant the first child. I'm so far in addiction now that we're back home ground zero for those old habits. You're neglected, I'm high, selfish,I'm ashamed so basically I either don't come home because I've been up all night High s*** spending all of our money. And I mean all of it taking right out of my pregnant wife's and the baby's mouth to serve my f****** addiction. and you just held on. Remainder Rock still taking care of my sister. Still being there for my mom. And absolutely the polar opposite of what the doctor said when we first met about not being able to have kids. So after neglecting you constantly pawning off tons of responsibilities on you and spending every penny we had and expecting you to take care of the kids and never being home and being unavailable because I had a disgusting ratchet ass bottom of the barrel love affair that started with cocaine but once I tried to sling and learn how to cook cocaine became Crack to be exact. I traded you, businesses, vehicles, Mom Dad the kids, stability love, God, futures, anything everything I traded for that nasty b**** crack. Mind body Spirit trade it at all.
And what did you do you kept managing with what you we had you kept trying to hold it together and you held on for dear life.
Now you had already become a daughter to my mother and you were a sister to my sister so my part to play in that has nothing to do with y'all's relationship at this point. There's a very painful thing that I'm even scared to talk about maybe one day. Anyways finally you said you couldn't do it anymore I had driven us in the dirt I had literally turned us into basically homeless people with kids and I just could not stop when I would get to the bottom I'd bring a jackhammer and I'd find a new bottom. And you finally took your eyes off of me and you looked at what was the most important our child and you said it's time to separate you had to do it. Our separation you still tried to work with me as I got off the drug short-term and you came back and that's when I got you pregnant. That's what I want to talk to you about one day when we have time. But that has nothing to do with the honor you deserve because you are always were and not a doubt my mind always will be a loyal honorable commendable Royal woman a true virtuous woman.
Anyways when we started talking again during the separation I got you pregnant again. We got back together to try to make it work for both our kids now. But I wasn't going to give up crack for you all the families all the religion all the money and all the happiness in the world. I was that f****** stupid. God is good because I didn't 12 step my s*** out of there with that God come down and put a disgust and a chill in my bones about that s*** and made it disappear overnight. Maybe another time because it was way too late when it happened. Anyways I got you to raise two kids stole all of our money stole all of our food stole everything we didn't even have gas half the time. You hold on. You held one. I still have the claw marks in my soul from where you didn't want to let me go because you were that committed and that good of a woman. That in tune with family.
You went on to raise the kids by yourself you hooked up with another dude he got you pregnant then you dealt with him abusing you physically. Torturing that household. I know he's changed but I know some of this s*** that he did to my kids because I could see it in their eyes every time I would drop a fork. Thank God they healed from that. Whether they healed fully especially one of them I don't know. But then the question would have to be raised does the pain in the issues they go through revolve around him or revolve around the traumas from me. Cuz a dad supposed to be there. You basically dealt with him terrorizing y'all raising hell you've told me some of the things that he used to do to you I don't see how you can still talk to me like he needs you and you've got to be there for him but that's on you and I respect it but the way that you explain some of the things that he did to you to me it makes me sick to my stomach because I could just never see myself like harming you physically over and over and over again and doing things to you in other forms of physical abuse and getting pleasure or control out of it. But I can see taking you everything you ever owned and never given our kids a chance or anybody else and giving it all to crack can I so I don't know there. I just know it blows my mind. But I think it comes a lot from the fact I left us so bottom of the barrel out back from my addiction that as long as somebody was providing you felt some form of security over top of what I left you with which was complete insecurity. Maybe that's why you stuck around for the abuse and still justifiy it over top of the things I've done to this day.
You raised his kid, you raised my kids, you were the one true parent you were two dads you were one mom. You were a counselor, a provider a mediator a caretaker a teacher a protector a shelter a guide a mentor a motivator a problem solver you were a parent and you played the role of three parents. Plus you worked plus you were there for my family whenever they needed you. You were there for my sister all through her Cushing's disease. And there's so much more because you were building towards the future on your own establishing financial security vision for yourself holding the fort down getting damn near no financial help from me none 00.
I incurred 135,000 child support debt with you. How's that for deadbeat dead? See this isn't about the arrogant narcissistic guy you think I am this is about who you are. Let's just fast forward so we getting locked up for child support even though you had already told me you weren't working on getting all of that got rid of. And yes you may not believe this but my whole f****** inheritance is going to you not one red cent goes to me because you earned that. Yo you earned like 50,000 times that times a hundred times 50. All of the money in the world in my opinion is still not enough compensation if it was given all to you for the things you've done.
Now fast forward to my sister dying she's on her deathbed she's checking out. you stay and active part of her life and you check on her and you stay by her side and you are there with her as a friend you coming you become her caretaker in the end you help my mother you stand by my family side we see my sister into the Afterlife and we live the lives we live.
I come to the city out of the blue I'll come to find out there was a warrant out I get arrested. With some help from another family member if y'all bond me out with $13,000 cash. A week later I'm called by the courts they said we didn't have to show the decision could be made without us there and when we pop up they walk out and they say here here's your piece of paper sir. You owe $14.75. I'll look at the piece of paper it says Mr so and so your debt with child support enforcement has been cleared in full please pay us these $14 processing fees and your case is closed. You smiled me a smile at you.
And you said the most horrific thing I've ever heard in my life from someone. I'm being cynical here because it was really the most amazing thing but I hate the term because I'm a basket case. You looked at me and said be better do better.
Fast forward after that I started trying to get my s*** together started trying to help you with vehicles and stuff around the house and somehow... Some f****** way... I had the audacity to get offended by the way you were treating me. And I had a nervous breakdown. And I begin saying things to you the absolutely weren't true that I absolutely didn't mean and I f****** flaked.
You with no contact to protect yourself.
Look at what you have done how could I have done that?
Anyways I've seen my mom turn on you with her words. I've seen your parents turn on you, I've turned on you, seen your friends turn on you, I've seen a world I've seen your ex's turn on you, but you know what I've never seen you turn on the people that you give your ability and your honor to and your bonds to I've never seen you turn on them ever.
You didn't turn on me you were protecting yourself.
Glue you were the strongest f****** woman I've ever met and you are worthy of an award that his world renowned and recognized because there are so many things that I haven't said here.
You are The Rock, you are the glue, you are the ties that bind... You are the virtuous woman. Proverbs 31 versus 10 to 31 is the description of who You are. Even to the point of where our kids were raised by you to place the dwelling now that you're at. You have taken in so many other people's kids you're like a parent to everyone. You excel at every job that you do. Vital asset to every team that you join. Highly efficient highly intelligent. Insanely gorgeous. Smart funny. God your sense of humor is so f****** awesome.
I'll see things in pictures my brain sees things in pictures and I just see pictures of you sometimes where always if we were around somebody that was down you would do the goofiest s*** you had to do to get them to smile because that's what you do. Just like sis did and this is her birthday gift from me because she told me several times to think about how hard you have worked. And she begged me to draw that picture before she died I got it toward the day before she died it was so important to her that picture is me holding her hand and her grabbing a star and her feet rooted to the ground and the roots coming into my feet and it says my brother taught me to reach for the stars my sister taught me to remain grounded.
And it's weird because I look at that and I think about how much of a icon and how much of a aura and presence glue was see y'all were glue one and two. And I'll go get that picture that she had me draw and it brings these overwhelming senses of things because I miss her so much but it brings you into the picture too because you always kept me grounded and I could envision anything anything on vision and you could take it for what it was and you could be like okay it's not that practical but it can be done and you would make the systems that made it happen no matter what it was I could create anything with you. You are after all Earth. I'm air. Reach for the Stars grounded etc.
Do you have so many amazing qualities and you have done so many honorable things. And for my sister's birthday I honor you her sister because the things that she said really ring true now. If you never talk to me again I respect it, if you want us to try to have some kind of working amicable relation I respect it but I have to have communication, you are so much of everything good and honestly I still love you so much thatI fall apart in your presence. But forget me man for real f*** me. Glue I want you to be happy you deserve happiness and if I take away from that then I need to shut my f****** mouth and I need to take that s*** so I went down and I need to smile because I know that you're happier. I truly know what it's like to want something so bad because I have for years but I never got healthy I'm just now getting around to taking care of myself. But I have for years wanted you and when I couldn't have you that's when you became Bruce Willis and you was popping my ass in the face saying you feel that boy that's your pride f****** with you.
Will glue I'm swallowing my pride. I want you to be happy no matter what I want you to be honored. If you ever do decide you want me in your life in any form please give me the communication I need to approach it healthily if not I'll f*** it up. I'm not even going to ask you what you want I'm not going to bug you but if by some chance in hell you ever find this letter just know at any point anytime you can reach out to me and ask for anything. I have taken and taken and taken and you have given and given and given it's time for me to sit the f*** down shut the f****** and love you the way you're supposed to be loved. And that means unconditionally loving you for who you are not loving you for me loving you because I absolutely adore who You are and I want to see the best life you can have happen.
You probably can't see your value and priceless coming out of my mouth or anyone else still does not do it justice.
Going to write a story about us glue.
And I promise to never promise again and just show you by allowing you the power dynamic you deserve to make your own choices and get the happiest healthiest life you can without me interjecting you've done it well this far better than me. Have made myself look like a total helpless loser in this but we both know what I'm capable of and what I'm about. If you need a roll for me just communicate it. I'll give it my all even if giving it my all means standing outside the box looking in but never burdening you with the fact that I am anymore.
And I'm not going to bring it up. Man I hope one day you get all the things you deserve.
You're admired appreciated loved and honored. By many. You are the Chief cornerstone woman. You are woman all woman.
I love you always will. Have my power dynamics take what you need and should you ever need me to flex my power because we both know all you got to do is make the call and I'll flex on whatever the hell you need me to as hard as you need me to and I'll scoop my ass right on out the way if that's what you need after it's done
Thank you glue
Buy some odd chance should you ever want me to be the one to try to love you communicate with me and point me in the direction I'm so f***** up out here I need direction and I know that they could be poisonous to you so you being The logical thinker that you are take that for what you will.
I've never been able to fully give myself to anyone else because I truly feel that to this day I will take my love for you to the grave.
You're that special.
Should I ever get a chance to love you and stand by your side of your man again you're going to have to let me die and and come out of the death of at least once because I'll die of happiness and wake up I just I wouldn't know how to handle it.
To me it's like imagine somebody said hey here's this egg but it doesn't have a shell that's just made of the rubber stuff that holds the shell together and you've got to run this egg 3 MI of mountain terrain in 20 minutes or the whole world ends.
Well I would just take the f****** egg and throw it on the ground. That's how I've been treating things. That's what I'm relearning everything.
It could be a detriment to you you know the sign of this always protect yourself and do what's best for your happiness but if I could love you again and be your man the things I would do I can't tell you because that would be the same old same old and honestly I just don't know.
I just know I love you you've always been everything to me and there will never be anyone that compares and there never has been.
Thank you for who you are

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I park my car in the incredibly nice upper-middle class Huntington Beach neighborhood, just down the street from the ‘New Reality’ (editor's note: fake name) sober living I got kicked out of. I take a second to pull myself together while in the darkness. I’m starting to feel very weak, very frazzled. I’ve been awake for at least 60 hours straight now, and I’m well aware of that. It is 1AM. I can’t decide if I should get a hotel or not.
I am so weak. I need to eat. I need water. I need to sleep. My mouth tastes TERRIBLE – like I am decaying from the inside out. I need to shower. I am aware that I have many physical needs that go beyond my need for more drugs.
See how you feel after the next shot, Lonnie.
I text Kace:
Here
I pat my pockets, making sure I have two separate bags: a bag in my left pocket, which has my furanylfentanyl and clean syringes in it, and a bag in my right pocket, which has both their meth and their dilaudid pills in it. I do not want to sell them furanylfentanyl because I don’t want them to die in the sober living house that has already seen 2 overdoses because of it.
I get out of my car and lock it. I walk through the sprawling, meticulous Huntington Beach neighborhood full of spacious and decorous houses, heading towards the sober living, though I stay on the other side of the street. I walk past several houses, with perfect green lawns and perfect landscapes, walking past the sober living. I walk a few houses past it, and then cross the street. When I arrive on the other side of the street, I glance all around me, checking for surveillance.
I double back, heading towards the sober living. I cut into the side yard, heading for the side door that leads into the garage. It is already cracked open, just as we planned. I open the door just enough so that I am able to slide through. I see two phone lights on in the far corner of the big 3-car garage.
“Yo,” I whisper-yell in the direction of the phone lights. One of the lights starts moving in a circular motion, beckoning me closer. I walk up, moving as quietly as I can. It would be terrible if the house manager, Jack, came in here right now.
I pull out their bag of dilaudid and meth. I see a hand with money in it being held out in my direction. I take the money and replace it with their bag of drugs.
“Nice, thanks,” Kace whispers, as I count the money. It's right on. The phone lights move closer to the ground, so I move with them. I see 3 fresh bottles of water on the ground, just like I asked for. I pull out the bag of needles and hand each of them 2 clean needles, putting one on the ground for myself.
“You got the Q-tips,” I whisper, looking towards Kace. His hand is already outstretched, a Q tip in it. I open the water bottle and put the bottle cap on the floor, beginning to prepare my shot of furanylfentanyl as quietly as I can, while they break up their dilaudids. The phones are propped up on the floor, giving me an eerie feeling. I have seen this before.
Déjà vu hits, and something inside me works to flash me back to my horrible half-ounce psilocybin trip. I suppress the embodied, hellish memories and the feelings of absolute terror, doom, and panic by preparing the shot as fast as I can.
“Where are you going after this?” Kace whispers to me, while we all work. I don’t even know the third boy, I only know that his name is Shane, he is white, he came here from the east coast, he’s in his 20s, and that he came to the wrong place if he wants to survive and recover from his addiction.
“I might go get a hotel, depends on how I feel,” I whisper back.
“Well, take a piece of this, mix it in there, that’ll help,” Kace whispers, his hand outstretched with a shard of meth in it. Meth is Kace’s panacea. I hesitate for a second, only because I know that this meth came from Sloan, which means it came from Lucky, which means it is very clean and very, very strong.
A small amount added to my shot of furry would ensure that I could stay awake for a little while longer. Now that I am coming down from the 2-day cocaine binge and haven’t yet slept, I run the risk of passing out at any moment.
“Maybe I should, just to be on the safe side,” I whisper, before involuntarily watching my hand take the small shard of meth and add it to the bottle cap. I take pleasure in the fact that this is fresh water from a clean water bottle, a fresh cotton, a clean bottle cap, and drugs that I sourced myself and am familiar with.
Listen to you, Lonnie. This is your third day in a row, and now that you don’t have cocaine, you’re doing meth? You were chugging cough syrup, you went on a cocaine binge, now you’re doing some goddamn meth? The dirtiest, most disgusting drug on the planet? And you’re selling it to these poor kids, at their sober living? Shame on you.
I shake my head slightly, hoping to shut it up.
I push the limits in my preparation of the dose: adding meth to this shot enables me to add more furanylfentanyl than I normally would, since the meth will keep me awake and therefore alive. I look up from the phone light when I am done, and I am surprised to see somebody else is done prepping and has completed their injection before me.
“Whoa, god damn,” Shane whispers. I chuckle.
“He’s never done a dilaudid before,” Kace whispers. I can hear the smile on Kace’s face, even in the darkness. I don’t smile, for something terrible has happened on this night. Shane’s soul has been infected by another parasite, and I will burn in the deepest level of Hell for being the one that brought it to him.
“Can you light me up?” I ask. One of the phone lights turns towards me. I find a vein quickly and easily, though I am having to rotate injection sites constantly. I cap the needle when it’s done and lean back, putting my hands on the concrete floor of the garage behind me. I count mentally, and barely make it past 3.
Every cell that I consist of alights with the jolting electric euphoria of meth. My chest tightens with power and ecstasy. I feel electric light waves of raw energy emanating from my heart as my heart rate dramatically increases with feelings of excited arousal.
All weakness and negativity have disappeared from my body. I could fight a tiger right now. I should go play basketball right now. I’d be unstoppable. I’d win every game. Nobody else would even have a chance.
“Fuck, I hate meth,” I whisper, overly alert, my heart racing in my ears. Now it feels like the house manager will open the door any second. Police are certainly watching us. My heart races in nonstop anticipation; I can feel my heartbeat in my trembling hands. Only the massive shot of furry I did can prevent the paranoia from causing me to panic. I take solace in the sensations of peace and relaxation that underlie the meth high. My lady, the Opioid - even though She is the cold, robotic Miss Furryfent, She is with me. I have nothing to fear.
“Nobody hates meth,” Kace whispers.
“It’s too good. It makes me feel too powerful. It makes me feel crazy,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Shane whispers, as we watch Kace inject himself. There are a few seconds of silence, all of us waiting for Kace to get his rush.
“Shit, that dilaudid gives you a good rush. I forgot how good it is,” Kace whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, before standing up. I walk to the exit, loath to be physically alone again, even though I feel lonely all the time. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know that this is another place that I am not welcome. The world is shrinking around me by the day. I am wearing out my welcome at the few places I am still allowed to go.
I need to go back to another treatment center, but life feels hopeless. More talk therapy, more 12-step meetings, more jail-rehabs, more vacation-rehabs – none of it has worked for me, and more of the same thing won’t help me. I am so hooked on these drugs; the drugs are a torrent, and every method of treatment is like a two-by-four piece of wood laying in the way. These drugs have my soul. Death is closing in on me.
“Thanks for coming out here. Be safe, brother,” Kace whispers, before closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, which hurts my feelings, even though I don’t blame him for locking me out. I’d lock me out, too.
I step out into a warm summer California night – back into a world that I don’t belong in; back into a world that doesn't want me.
Where are you going to go, Lonnie?
Not here. Anywhere but here. I start walking, and then start jogging across the street. Surprisingly, I feel no pain in my ankles at all. Jogging feels good. I make it across the street, and then keep jogging.
I jog up to my car. I open the door and get in it. I sit for a second. I check in on my body.
I feel amazing. I could run 3 miles right now. I feel great. I should keep moving.
I check in with my stomach. Although I couldn’t be less hungry, I know I need to consume some nutrients, even if they’re just liquid. I've been injecting cocaine continuously; I haven’t eaten a solid meal or slept in days.
I know what to do. I put my drugs and paraphernalia in the center console of my car. I get out of the car with only my phone, wallet, and keys in my pockets. I lock the car, checking it twice so it registers in my meth-addled brain, which is often riddled with unreasonable paranoia, that it is locked, and nobody can steal my drugs.
I start to walk away from my car, then stop mid-step. What if Kace or one of those guys comes looking for my car, knowing that it is full of drugs?
I am frozen with indecision. I notice I am licking my lips with overstimulation and force myself to stop my tongue. My heart is racing. I’m shaking with excitation. My brain is screaming at my body to do something, but I don't know what to do. They will certainly come looking for my car, hungry for more drugs.
You're being ridiculous, Lonnie. Nobody is going to steal your drugs.
I tell my feet to move. They won't move. I feel the urge to scream. I have to get away from here, I have to do something.
I start to jog again. I can get a quick workout in and get my brain to shut up at the same time. I start to jog, doing the old breathing trick I did when I was a kid trying to run the fastest 1-mile time in gym class.
I focus on my breath, to which I apply a specific breathing pattern. In, in, out. I jog, and I breathe. I jog, and then I jog faster, and my breathing sharpens – and then I jog even faster. I jog out of the neighborhood and onto the main road that connects these huge, gorgeous housing developments in Huntington Beach. I jog in the direction of a gas station that I know is just down the street from me.
I jog, and my mind turns to college basketball. I visualize myself playing in my mind, shooting 3-pointers and knowing that they’re in the hoop as soon as they leave my hand. I shoot a few more 3-pointers in my mind before losing myself completely.
The big, bright, lights, the smell of the hardwood, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor and echoing off of every wall. The sound of solitude, and hard work, and everything that is good in life. The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net. Watching the net flip up after a perfect swish. I take myself back to some of my favorite moments playing basketball: back to Frederick, Maryland, where I scored 16 points on an overseas professional in a competitive men’s league game.
Back to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I got invited to try out for the semi-pro ABA team, the Miami Storm.
Back to Atlanta, GA, where I got made fun for doing ball handling drills with a tennis ball and then picked last, only to lead my team to victory several times in a row, scoring almost all of our points, winning in silence.
Showing up day in and day out, scoring and shooting and winning. Even when I was losing, I was getting better, so I was winning.
I press onward, jogging harder. I am going to play college basketball. Nothing is going to stop me. I notice that my shirt, which is drenched in sweat, is sticking to my skin. I peel my shirt off, barely slowing my pace. I glance up and to my right. There is a brown apartment complex. I throw my shirt in one of the bushes, making a mental note to get it out of the bush on my way back, certain that I’ll remember exactly how it landed in the bushes and precisely where it is.
I start to jog again, pretending that I have a basketball. I cross the invisible ball back and forth on the sidewalk, going out of my way to cross bushes up, crossing the imaginary ball hard and then going straight into a spin move. I lose myself in the movements. Thoughts cease, and there is nothing but my instinct telling me which dribble move to pantomime next against invisible defenders.
I stop. Why am I even going to the gas station? I should just get my car, go to 24-hour fitness, and play basketball for real. I turn around and start the journey back the way I came. I continue to run and do fake basketball moves on the shadow people. Finally, I find myself back in the residential neighborhood of Huntington Beach that my car is in.
I look around again. Is this the right neighborhood? Where am I? I walk around, looking for a landmark or something that I recognize.
There was something I was supposed to remember.
That’s right, I have to get to work. I need to find my car.
A white truck pulls up in the street next to me and stops.
That’s right, there’s a white truck coming to pick me up and take me to work! I walk up to the white truck, which has stopped in the middle of the road. Though the windows are tinted, I know that Todd is in this truck, and that he is here to pick me up to take me to Cinepolis for work. I pull on the passenger side door handle of the truck, so I can get in and go to work. The handle slips out of my hand when the door doesn’t pop open. The truck starts to drive away.
Why would Todd do that to me?! I look up at the sky. The sun is coming up? Shit, I’m going to be late for work now! I jog away from the truck. I need to go back to Todd’s house. I jog up to Todd’s house, which is the brown house right down the street. I walk up to the door and twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
Of course, it didn’t open, dumbass. Todd went to work.
I jog away. How am I going to get to work? I jog some more and start to feel sick.
Where am I?
“HEY! You left your stuff, like, way back there!” a random lady yells at me. I look at her, and then around at my surroundings. I don’t know where I am.
“What?” I yell back at her.
“You took your shorts off and left your stuff, like, way back there. I’ve been watching you. I think you should go home!” she yells, from across the street. I reach for my pockets.
I look down at my lower half. I have no shorts on. I am wearing nothing but black Nike compression underpants and basketball shoes. Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt: I have been running around in a state of meth-induced delusion for the entire night, playing with an invisible basketball.
I jog across the street, over to the lady.
“I’m sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night. Do you mind showing me where I left my stuff?” I ask, evaluating the woman. She is in her 40’s or 50’s, with long dark hair and a kind face. She has a small dog with her. He looks like a mutt.
“I figured. I was walking my dog, and saw you take your shorts off. I wanted to stop you when you tried to get in the truck, but I thought maybe you knew them. Then you tried to get in that house. You seemed very confused and out of it. Your pants are back this way,” she says, walking her dog down the sidewalk, back the way I came.
“Thanks,” I say, too embarrassed and ashamed to say much else. The sun is up. I try to walk naturally, like I am wearing pants instead of not wearing pants, which is a difficult thing to do. She leads me several minutes down the sidewalk, to somebody’s front yard. I see my shorts sitting in the grass in somebody’s yard, right by the sidewalk. I grab my shorts and put them on. My wallet and my phone are still in the pockets.
My keys. Shit, where are my keys?
“Do you know where my keys are?” I ask the woman, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.
“No. I saw you take off your shorts here. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if police are on their way,” she says, her eyebrows raised at me knowingly.
“Ok. Well, thanks for your help. I’m going to go. My house is in the neighborhood over there,” I lie, pointing further away from her and walking away. The word “police” forces me into action. I powerwalk until she is out of sight, and then I start to jog again.
Jog faster, Lonnie. Train harder.
No. I have to slow down. I’m becoming psychotic from overexertion, lack of nutrition, sleep deprivation, and methamphetamine. I have no drugs on me. I can slow down.
I force myself to start walking. I become aware, again, of my racing heart. It has been beating like this for days on end. It could easily explode and kill me at any second. Wait, when was the last time I did any opioids? The furanylfentanyl has been making me dopesick within 6 hours. I search my body for opioid effects. There are none.
I’m in the no man’s land between the opioid high and the withdrawal where I actually feel normal. The more I binge, the shorter the breaks become, and I’ve been binging, hard. If I feel normal now, that means I’ll be dopesick any second. I whine out loud. I want to scream up at the sky. My stomach starts to hurt terribly – it feels like it is bleeding.
I am dying.
I open my phone’s GPS and set it to my old sober living.
Shit, I don’t have a car key. I can’t get into my car! I call a locksmith, and then I start to run back towards the ironically named ‘sober living.’
I attempt to cling to reality.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington Beach. I am going to Jack’s sober living, so I can do some fentanyl, so I don’t get dopesick. I did some meth, and I haven’t slept or ate in days, so I might hallucinate. Hallucinations aren’t real.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington beach. I went to Florida for rehab for sniffing oxy, and I started to shoot dope. I came to California to stop shooting dope and picked up a meth habit.
STOP!
My name is Lonnie. The world would be better off if I were dead.
I start to walk. I can’t take this. I need some music. No, playing music would be suspicious. I start to jog again, trying not to think about my racing heart. I should focus on my breathing.
No, I can’t do that. That’s what made me go psychotic.
My name is Lonnie. I am going back to Jack’s sober living…

In addition to applying to Florida schools (Florida resident), I thought about applying to these med schools. I took my MCAT in May (FL average 512) and I’m waiting to get my score back in a couple weeks. My GPA is 3.2 but I have a DIY postbacc of 4.0. I have 4,000 clinical hours, 1,500 volunteer hours, and 2,000 research hours, and Casper 4th quartile. Also, I’m a URM. These are the schools that I thought about applying to and I was wondering if there are some schools that I should take out or keep. I know it’s hard to make a definite school list without my actual MCAT score but I want to get started on pre-writing secondaries.
Quinnipiac Temple Loyola Medical College of Wisconsin University of Vermont Penn State Rush Medical College University of Colorado Tulane Albany Medical College University of Wisconsin University of Illinois
Eastern Virginia Medical School Central Michigan University College of Medicine Northeast Ohio Medical University Oakland Beaumont Charles R. Drew Michigan State University

Hey I just began my job in New York and have been searching for a place. I seemed to have found a diamond in the rough in Jamaica around Sutphin Blvd and Archer Ave. I don’t know ANYTHING about this area, but I have been told (even by my agent) that it’s not the best place.
Just looking around I wasn’t really too concerned. I’ve lived all over the world in cities comparable to NYC in population density and diversity so I’m used to having to look over my shoulder when walking around at certain hours and neighborhoods. Is there anything to be concerned about? I have 2 small children who would be starting school in the area as well. Any info is appreciated! Thanks!

DPS Alert Vehicle Accident-Property Damage US95 S / TROPICANA AVE;sb at 06/04/2023 07:15:06 PM

Hello, I’m planning to get something shipped from Florida a small envelope, how long do you think this will take. Trying to figure out if it’s worth paying for faster shipping! Thanks!

Hey I just began my job in New York and have been searching for a place. I seemed to have found a diamond in the rough in Jamaica around Sutphin Blvd and Archer Ave. I don’t know ANYTHING about this area, but I have been told (even by my agent) that it’s not the best place.
Just looking around I wasn’t really too concerned. I’ve lived all over the world in cities comparable to NYC in population density and diversity so I’m used to having to look over my shoulder when walking around at certain hours and neighborhoods. Is there anything to be concerned about? I have 2 small children who would be starting school in the area as well. Any info is appreciated! Thanks!