Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Nuking Houston ……. what the ……?


Well, I was expecting to write about the action at the private party after The Rockets game but there is something far more important than the sex and drugs stuff that was going on around the room. I’m still in shock. I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or just leave town; maybe even leave the country! I’ve spent some time in Europe in the past few years, so at least I’ve got a passport; which is more than can be said for about eighty per-cent of Americans.

Most Americans think that they are so worldly but in most cases they don’t know shit. They have no fucking clue. You’d be amazed at how many Rednecks actually believe that America rules the world. They think that our military can go anywhere and take care of business. Their attitude to human life is un-fucking-believable. I was watching Fox News a few weeks ago, on the TV behind the bar in the Club. The newsreader was talking about how a couple of U.S. soldiers had been killed so the marines attacked the house, where they thought the guy responsible was holed up.
Apparently they launched a missile at the house and then burst in and killing everyone in the house; four women, six children and the guy they were huntin’ down.

The three Rednecks sitting at the bar, each with a bottle of Bud’ in their right hands (which probably made a change from their dick!), let out a whoop.
“Yo, go boys go …….. our marines are just so fucking awesome,” yelled the guy in the middle, as he punched air with his left fist.
These assholes made me wanna throw-up. Too young for Vietnam or the first Gulf War and now almost too old to be at risk of getting drafted, should the need arise, in this one. They had no fucking clue what it was like to be in a war zone and no real interest in anything except Uncle Sam kicking raghead butt ………. until one of their brothers or sons gets killed. Then it’s a different ball-game!

I often sit with customers who are from overseas and they tell me that the American government is seen as the global bully. They say that on an individual basis, the Americans are real nice people but collectively we are not exactly gonna win any popularity contests! It was so different before 9/11 but just about everything has changed since then. What makes it really worrying is that I am beginning to realize that things might not have happened quite as the Government told it ……… as I found out the other night!

I had gone along to the Rockets party at the invitation of Sherry, one of my few dancer friends. I had known Sherry and her partner, Brad, from a long time ago. Sherry and Brad had once owned a real nice house in Northwest Houston but now lived in a room at Motel 6. It’s a long story and one that I’ll get around to telling another time but for now I wanna stay with the events of the other night.

Sherry had told me that there would be a couple of the Rockets at the party, along with a few friends and business associates. We were going along at the invitation of one of the business associates who wanted us to make sure that the Rockets were ‘well taken care of’ ……… do I need to spell it out?

I asked Sherry how many girls would be there ‘cos I didn’t want to piss off my own Rocket by screwing around with one of his team-mates. Sherry assured me that I could just, “Come along and look pretty.”

It was gonna be an easy three hundred bucks. I just had to make sure that Monika was OK to look after the girls for the night and get them off to school in the morning. Once this was sorted, I was on way.

When we arrived at the hotel, we made our way to the Penthouse Suite, which rented out at over a thousand bucks a night. The Concierge gave a knowing wink as we passed his desk, on the way over to the elevator. An elevator that went directly to the Penthouse. Sherry had apparently been given the special code to activate the elevator 'cos she went straight to the keypad on the wall and punched in the security number that changed every time a guest checked either in or out. As the elevator glided up to the top of the building, I turned to Sherry and told her that I didn't have a good feeling about this party.
"Relax Teeze, it'll be fine," she assured me, reaching over to my hand and giving it a squeeze as she gave me one of her clenched lip smiles.

The elevator came gently to a halt and we walked straight into the suite, which was absolutely enormous. It covered the whole of the top floor of the building and had panoramic views over Downtown Houston. The two kingsize beds in the main bedroom were both occupied, as were the two queen size beds in the second bedroom. The party had apparently been going for a while as there were people milling around in various states of undress.

To the left of the sitting area, there were some steps leading up to a mezzanine with massive glass-encased hot tub. The furniture in the sitting room had been pushed back against the wall, to create a dance area where three girls, all topless, were gyrating to the sound of Stevie Ray Vaughan …………. a Texas legend.

There was a half dozen or so other girls sitting around chatting with various guys. It all looked quite civilized and relaxed. Sherry introduced me to the Host, Zack; who was at least six foot three and dressed in a Tux but had his bow-tie untied and his shirt unbuttoned to the navel. The classic look of a guy who had been partying for quite some time ........ but had yet to get down to any serious action!

Zack looked me up and down, smiled and said,"Hi Tallulah-Sue, glad you could make it."
Sherry stood on her tippy-toes to get as close to Zack's ear as possible and said something which made him laugh. Then he clapped his hands together and said, “OK girls, you know what to do. Enjoy.”

With that he turned and walked straight over to a guy who was sitting in the corner of one of the massive sofas. The guy sitting down had a glass clasped tightly in his hands and looked as though he was in a kind of trance; just staring at the floor. I saw Zack lean over and whisper something in his ear. The guy didn’t flinch or show any indication that he had heard anything of what Zack had said to him. As he stood back up, Zack appeared to shrug his shoulders in a gesture of resignation.

Zack saw me watching and beckoned me over. Leaning forward so that his mouth was just an inch from my ear, he shouted, “He needs some company ………… he thinks something real bad is gonna happen in Houston over Easter.”
“Like what,” I screamed, so that Zack would hear me above the music.
Zack shrugged again. “He won’t say but he ain’t exactly the life and soul of the party tonight. Why don’t you sit with him a while and see if you can snap him out of it.”
I nodded, then Zack was away, heading for the main bedroom, pulling a stunning looking black girl with long legs and enormous breasts, along with him.

I helped myself to a glass on Moet. As I poured a glass from the magnum on the side-table, I saw what looked like a sugar bowl alongside the champagne. It was actually full, almost to the brim, with cocaine. Either none of the party were using the powder or someone was making sure that it was always full. I guess the latter! I stuck my right index finger in my mouth, to make it moist, then dipped the finger into the bowl of coke. Rubbing the powdered finger on my gums, as though I was cleaning my teeth, then running my tongue around my gums, licking up any residue powder, relishing the unique taste of high quality cocaine. Now I'd be in real good shape for an hour or so.

I turned and walked slowly over to the sofa where the Trancer was sitting.
“Hey Sugar, how y’all doin’ tonight,” I said in my sexiest voice, placing a hand on his knee as I sat down beside him.
No response.
“Come on Honey, why don’t you share your troubles with Tallulah-Sue. I’m a real good listener, y’know.”
After about thirty seconds he turned to look at me and said, "You don't want or need to hear what I've got to say."
"Why don't you give it to me straight up, I doubt that you got anything that could really shock me," I cajouled. "Come on now, what's it all about," .
He paused for about twenty seconds and then blurted out, "Those mother-fuckers are gonna nuke Houston.”

It took me a few moments to take in what the Trancer had just divulged.

“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to sound re assuring. “Osama won’t get near us again anytime soon.”
“That’s just it, “he said without any hint of emotion in his voice. “Osama never got anywhere near us in the first place ...... and now they want to make everyone believe that the Iranians are a big threat to Uncle Sam. So they’re gonna set off a nuclear device in the Port of Houston .........and blame it on the Iranians!”

“Who’s they,” I enquired naively

“The American Government ………. George Bush ……. Dick Cheney …….. the whole fucking sick cabal. That’s who,” he said, looking at me as though I was a real dumb shit, for not knowing! I might be blonde but I am definitely not dumb!

“No fucking way …………. you gotta be shittin’ me,” I said, falling back into the sofa as the shock and horror at what I had just heard, sunk in.

This guy has to be either fucked-up or crazy …………….. or perhaps both. Why ever would the American Government want to do such a thing? I decided to humor him. I asked him his name but he told me it would be safer for me if I didn’t know.
This was getting ridiculous. It was like being caught up in some kind of …………… then the penny dropped. I smiled as I looked around and said, “OK, I got it, where’s the camera. You almost had me going then ……… I almost fell for it.”

He looked up with what seemed like resigned desperation in his eyes and said, “Baby, you better believe that I’m genuine twenty-four carat serious about this.”
“So why don’t you tell somebody,” I enquired.
“One simple reason,” he said, emphasizing every word. “They’d either think I’m crazy …….. or they’re in on it.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “I may have put you at risk by telling you any of this …….. but it’s burning me up, so I gotta tell someone.”
“Who are you anyway ………. how come you know all this?” I probed again. Although I was beginning to think that the guy was some kinda nut.
“That don’t really matter,” he intoned. “I just sorta stumbled across it when I was lookin’ at somethin’ that didn’t really concern me …………. but now I’m scared fucking shitless.”

“How about I do a dance for you,” I offered, as I started to stand up and remove my top in a single motion.
He put his hand on my arm and said, “It’s real nice of you, Honey, but I just ain’t in the mood for any kind of frivolity. I really gotta think about what I’m gonna do with this.”

Over the next couple of hours, I managed to learn that the supposed plan is to set off an old Russian nuclear device sometime over the Easter vacation period, in the middle of April. When I asked how the bomb would be brought in to Houston, he explained that it is currently hidden aboard a freighter that’s tied up in or around Texas City.

“What do you think all the bullshit evacuation was about last year, when Houston was supposedly threatened by Hurricane Rita?” He asked.
“To get away from the storm?” I suggested. "The Government didn't want another N'Orleans on their hands."
He let a little smile come to his face and taking a really deep breath said, “Baby, that was just a practice run for the real thing. They wanted to know the capacity of I45 North, 290 and I10 west, when all six lanes are used to evacuate the good citizens of Houston."

Man, my head was spinning. If this was true, I needed to make sure that the girls and I were a long way from Houston well before everyone started hittin’ the roads for the Easter break. Alternatively, he was just some fucked-up junkie tripping way out in la-la land …… but he was pretty damn convincing!

“You said something earlier about Osama not being responsible for 9/11. What’s that all about?” I enquired, trying to get away from the thought of Houston becoming a nuclear wasteland.
“How many towers collapsed on 9/11?” He asked.
“Two,” I replied without hesitation, ‘cos I knew I was right.
“Wrong,” he said. I looked at him inquiringly.
“Three,” he said, holding up three fingers of his right hand. “Another tower called Building 7 collapsed just after five o’clock but no plane ever hit that building.”
“Hey, I think that I heard Charlie Sheen say somethin’ about that a few days ago ……… but they said that he was just a crazy ex-coke addict,” I offered.
“That’s exactly what those mother-fuckers in Washington want you to think, so's you don't take no notice of what he says; but when you get home, you go check it out on your computer,” he instructed.

“I just can’t believe that our government would ever do such a thing …….. not killing Americans,” I said shaking my head.
Just then the music stopped and my companion leaned over to me and what he said next sent shivers all the way down my spine.

“The greater the crime perpetrated by the Leadership, the less likelihood there is that the people will ever believe that their Leaders are capable of perpetrating such an event.”

He paused for effect, looked me right in the eyes and asked, “Do you know who wrote that?”
I shook my head.
“Hitler ……….. and G.W. fucking Bush is our Hitler.”

By now, I had heard enough. I stood up, just as Zack was emerging from the bedroom, shrugging his jacket back on his shoulders. He saw me and smiled.
“How’d you get on?” He inquired.
“He’s really fucked-up,” I said looking at the guy over my shoulder. I turned back to Zack and said, “I’m sorry but I’m not feeling too good, I gotta leave.”
“OK, Baby …….. it’s not a problem. Thanks for coming along ……….. maybe we’ll see you again?”
I nodded and Zack thrust two one hundred dollar bills into my hand. Sherry had told me I'd get three hundred but I was leaving early and I hadn't even got me tits out, so I guess that two hundred was reasonable.
I smiled and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He seemed like a sweet guy.

When I reached the Lobby, the Concierge asked if everything was OK. He was probably surprised that I was leaving so soon!
“I’m fine, thank you,” I assured him. “But would you mind calling a cab for me?”

On the way home I reflected upon what I had just heard. It was probably just the ramblings of a fucked-up junkie …………………….. but what if he really had stumbled on to something? What if he was right and Houston was going to bear the brunt of some faked terror attack, just so's we could blame it on the Iranians and then go bomb the crap out them, just like we did to those Iraqis.

Somehow, I think that I might just be takin’ the girls up to Oklahoma for Easter.

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