CONTROL: A Los Angeles Graffiti Story...

UPDATE: (This is only the short beginning of a very long story. More excerpts to follow.)

  Near the end of the school year, 5th grade, a new student named Eric Samos had arrived at Sandbar Elementary in sunny Southern California. He was a very quiet kid who kept to himself. The first two days, while on the playground, he would watch a group of kids play a game of basketball. By the third day, a boy named Tony Diaz invited him to play with them.
  
   As the boys played a competitive game of basketball a boy by the name of Carl Williams, a rough and tough playing kid, played defense and elbowed Eric right in the mouth as Eric went for a shot. -BAM!- Eric knew Carl intended to do that.

   "You did that on purpose!" Eric said while he held his mouth as it dripped with blood. "Hey, you ran into my elbow," Carl joked with a shrewd smirk on his face. Eric walked over to Carl, with a quick straight punch to the face, he dropped Carl down to the ground. Eric continued punching as Carl attempted to cover up.

   The school staff noticed the fight and ran over to break it up. Before they did, Eric stopped and looked over to the big kid, Tony Diaz, a kid everyone knew not to mess with. Tony shook his head in approval, as if Eric had done the right thing.

   From that day on, Tony and Eric became good friends.

   Years went by...

   Tony and Eric were now 16 years old. In the year of 1990 during summer around 1am on a dark Saturday morning.  The sky was clear, the streets were quiet, and the vandals were lurking. Eric and Tony were on the prowl.

   The two young men walked uphill onto a freeway shoulder. They open up a backpack and pulled out a thick heavy-duty rope with a small weight tied to one end. Eric managed to climb his way up a freeway sign and walked across the back side of it. -WHOOSH!!- An 18 wheeler truck passed by underneath and shook the sign, including Eric's nerves, almost causing him to slip. "Shit!"  Eric said with astonishment, knowing if he were to slip it would have been a very disastrous (or rather deadly) thing to have happened. "Ok. I got this man!" Eric spoke to himself as though he needed some reassurance that he wouldn't fall pass the 4 inch widely spaced cross-bars. Tony shouted, "Hey, everything alright?"  Eric responded, "Yeah man!  I'm cool." Eric spray painted the names "RISK" and "TANK" in black, bold, outlined letters.

   As Eric climbed down the freeway sign, a light shined brightly at them from a vehicle passing by on the freeway. "Fuck! It's the cops!" shouted Tony. Eric quickly pulled down the rope and stuffed it in the backpack as the California Highway Patrol pulled up past them with siren and lights flashing. "Go! Go! Go!" in a frantic panic shouted Eric. Tony ran ahead down a nearby street. Eric following behind tripped, knocking a spray can out of the backpack. "Freeze!" shouted a CHP officer. Eric paid no attention to the warning and put the spray can back in the backpack. "Don't move!" shouted the officer. Eric defiantly ran toward a truck Tony had gotten into and began starting up. The officer gave chase.

   Eric tossed the backpack into the back of the open-bed truck as Tony began driving slowly away.  Eric grabbed the tail-gate but it flew open as though it was already broken. Eric dove in while Tony slammed on the brakes causing Eric to slide along the truck bed and hit his head. -THUMP!!- "Awe shit!" Eric said in pain while he felt his head to see if it was bleeding. No blood, just a big lump that started to form.

   "Stop! Or I'll shoot!" yelled the officer with a gun drawn. While lying on his back, Eric extended his middle finger to the CHP officer. The officer was furious and frustrated as he put down his gun and radioed his partner.

   After speeding a safe distance away from the law enforcement, Tony stopped the truck and let Eric in to the front passenger seat. "Remember the plan," said Eric. "Yeah, I got it," said Tony. They both had devised a brilliant get-away plan before they went out to commit the act of vandalism. It worked!  They managed to escape the clutches of the great California Highway Patrol.

(THIS IS AN EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT FROM A STORY WRITTEN BY: ERIE ONE)

- Psyfer Ent. ®
  2011 ©

TRUE LIFE STORIES OF ERIE ONE:

APARTMENT LIFE:

   Part One...

Two weeks ago from today during a weekday, sometime after midnight, I was awake eating a midnight snack in the kitchen--Yeah, I know! I shouldn't be eating this late.

 "Knock, knock, knock!" Who in the hell would be knocking at my door at this time of the night? Girl Scouts selling cookies? I think not! Jehovah's Witnesses offering me a copy of the Watchtower? I don't think so! Well, lets see?

   I grab my fork in hand, tightly clinched, ready to use it as a weapon if I have to. So, I walk over to the door and look out the peep hole. I notice a man with a hooded sweater on, looking away from the door. Hmmmm, very interesting, I thought.

   I am glad to have a window not far from the door--So, that I could see from head to toe who is standing at the door. I open up the Levolor vertical blinds and look out as much as they can see me, too. It's three black men, all wearing hooded sweaters with their hands in their pockets. I spoke with a stern voice and a disturbed look on my face. "What's up?" As I shake my head upwards.

   All three men look at each other, one shakes his head and they all walk away. I wasn't planning on opening the door, anyways! Damn those midnight marauders! I haven't used my shotgun in awhile--But, it's always ready to go if need be.

   Part Two...

Last night, sometime after midnight, I was reading a book. I heard some shouting/yelling--I didn't think much of it because I do have some loud-ass neighbors who stay up past 2am on a weekday night smoking, toking, coughing, yapping, and just plain ole bullshitting late at night.

   But, this was different! It's a woman's voice and she began shouting for help! She screamed, "HELP!! HELP!! SOMEBODY HELP, ME!!" Wow! That was disturbing! I quickly shut off the lights and look out my bedroom window. "Shit!" I don't see anything! It must be coming from the parking lot since I can not see it from this window.

   I walk over to turn on my light. "Awe, crap!" Where's the switch?! My light switch is not where it should be, at the edge of the wall, rather, it's almost toward the center of the wall and now i'm blinded by the darkness. I frantically search for the switch. "Ah-ha!" I found it!

   I grab my switchblade (yes, a real sharp son-of-a-bitch of a switchblade) from my drawer. I run over to the living room and peek out the window. By this time, I hear no more shouts or yells. Nothing! What the fuck?! Dammit! What happened? Where did she go? If I had called the sheriffs, what could I possibly tell them? I heard some screams for help. But, I have no idea where they actually came from.

   For several minutes I keep a vigilant watch for any suspicious activity. And, nothing! I thought I was gonna bust a Bruce Willis or something of that nature. But, no! Didn't happen... I think we need a neighbor watch program over here...

Til next time cabrones!...

-ErieOneTheVigilante