Confessions from a Hell Bound Taxi, Book IV: The Fences of Freedom

By Alaric von Boerner

You can't just sit on your couch eating popcorn, and expect favorable change to occur on its own. You have to do something! Read Book 1, II, or III before you look at this one. The HELL BOUND TAXI Series are TRUE stories about the Real world--and describe it all as if there is an emergency at hand. There is. Pay Attention, because you are along for the ride whether you like it or not.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alaric von Boerner
• Release date: Nov 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458147516

Book preview

Confessions

from a

HELL

BOUND

TAXI

Book IV: The Fences of Freedom

by Alaric von Boerner

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Alaric von Boerner

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Eternal nature inexorably revenges the transgressions against her laws. - Adolph Hitler

Confessions from a Hell Bound Taxi

Book IV: The Fences of Freedom

The old bus bounced angrily as I tried to keep up with the traffic on a trek back to Stockton. I was almost halfway there, and it was the place to go -- considering the option of worrying about where to park the bus around Hayward, with no job, and a half a dozen puppies that were about to be weaned. The house I had abandoned in Stockton became a blessing. It was about time that I paid some attention to the place, anyway. I would have plenty of room to park the bus, a place to relax and make a new plan, and the puppies could play -- they were about to tear up the inside of the bus if I didn't get them out. The bouncing bus seemed to enliven the puppy party – dogs rolling, growling, and jumping on each other, while their mother stood on a perch, barking to warn sharp teeth away from her tit. We bounced along the freeway another 45 miles with dogs jumping around, and dishes falling from the cupboards. Anxious to bring the steel monster to rest, I careened around the corner onto the dirt road that led to my house, hit a pothole with a five-ton thud, and kicked up a cloud of dust as if a bomb had gone on off. I rumbled to a stop in front of the old place, and opened the door as if to let out schoolchildren -- the puppies ran out into the yard followed by the mother, still barking.

There was a disturbance in the house. Someone had broken in, and I'd caught them red-handed. I ran to a neighbor to call the sheriff. While I was on the phone the intruders ran out the back of the house. I went in to find out that they had been in there in order to manufacture methamphetamines. I was shocked.

Why should I be so annoyed? Lots of people use drugs. Doctors prescribe all sorts of harmful substances. The difference is -- being properly informed to make the right choices. Should we leave the decisions to pharmaceutical companies who are out to profit from our ills? Heck no, with the way the world is -- an opium den might be considered less harmful than a room with a computer and a video game station -- you just need to know not to visit the opium den more than once a week. But they wanted to criminalize things, and empower authorities against our own devices. Keep the business interests of doctors and pharmaceuticals secure. But what drugs are problems? How should the law be involved? Heroin addiction is a disease, but to call it a crime precludes a quest for treatment -- and engages a self-fulfilling prophecy. What! Quit calling for rules in order to address your own uncertainty. It is our uncertainty that needs to be addressed, so that we know the difference before the rules become too confusing. I find it somewhat confusing between doctor authority and personal choice – I don’t like the idea of leaving it to the State. So, is that what I think?

My tolerance takes a nosedive when it comes to tweekers. Meth can cause serious brain damage, and in the least, the users subject themselves to periodic psychotic episodes, and can become a terrible nuisance. They can be an insane type of thief, and even do things like break into my house and permeated it with poison gas. I was enraged. In their haste they had left behind evidence of their identity. One of the intruders had typed some kind of tweeker poem on my typewriter, and put their name to it. They’re busted!

It was a long wait before the sheriff arrived. The existence of a meth lab required the sheriff to call in an expert, so we had to wait longer. Once the authorities got their act together it wasn't long before it looked like I was becoming the accused -- the sheriff and his expert were implying that I had something to do with this, and that I knew the people involved. I explained that the house had been vacant for over three years, I only visited it about once a month, and I didn't have any social life in Stockton at all. I brought their attention to the poem left behind with a name on it. They checked the name, and found a repeat offender listed in their system. They didn't do anything about it. They told me that the materials left behind constituted toxic waste, and it would be my responsibility to dispose of it properly -- they didn't want anything to do with it.

Disgusted, I slept in the bus for a few days. I scrubbed the walls in the house, trying to get out a horrible smell that stubbornly remained. I finally painted the whole place before I was willing to stay inside of it. I left the toxic waste outside in a box, and someone stole it.

I started staying in the house, and right after I left the bus alone for a minute a large day-glo orange bulletin appeared on the bus windshield. I went out to look at it, and it was an abatement notice – super-glued on the windshield, and very hard to remove. The notice claimed that the bus was an abandoned vehicle. I made a phone call to advise the authorities that the bus was not an abandoned vehicle. I was told that there had been a complaint. Perhaps someone didn't like the way I had come down the road a week earlier. I assumed that the matter had been resolved, but I got a letter in the mail a few days later telling me that I had a certain number of days to remove the bus, or it would be impounded and I would be charged $1,600.00, The letter indicated that there had been a complaint. I figured I should talk to the neighbors, and find out who is complaining, so I could resolve things. I talked to the neighbor across the street, and he had a complaint, too -- about too many vehicles, but he didn't know who was complaining. I made another telephone call to try to figure out what was going on. They wouldn't tell me who was complaining, but advised me that my bus was a public nuisance, and I had to get rid of it. They couldn’t give me details, and referred me to Officer Mann, a State official, who was supposedly in charge of the abatement. I called Officer Mann.

Someone is complaining that my bus is an abandoned vehicle, but it's not.

Is it registered?

Yes.

Well, you can’t keep it on the street.

It's not on the street. It's our private road.

That doesn't matter, you can't keep it on the road.

Well, I'll just move it onto my lot behind the fence.

No, you can't do that. It can't be seen. You have to build a garage to put it in if you want to put it on your lot. Look, it’s a public nuisance and you have so many days to get rid of it, or we’ll haul it away and you’ll have to pay. You’ve got about a week and the first chance I get I’ll be over there with a tow truck.

Give me a break!

"What you mean give you a break? My