chances are you were headed to Viet Nam via the draft lottery.
Eddie sat on the floor with his back against a sofa, watching the big RCA television, drinking a bottle of 7-Up. A bunch of old men in suits stood around with some sitting schoolmarm looking woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses. One old guy was introduced and pulled out the first blue plastic pill-like container from a large glass bowl. The container looked like a giant Viagra pill. He opened the container, pulled out a tag with a birthdate printed on it and called out, "September fourteenth, number zero zero one." He handed off the tag, smiled and shook hands with another smiling suit.
SHIT..SHIT..SHIT
It hit Eddie like an incoming missile. He was number one in the draft, and all he wanted to do was to listen to Jimi Hendrix, learn how to play guitar, smoke a little weed here and there and work in the old man's shop, learn the business. He looked at the televised board, 001 on the left, a cream colored card with Sep 14 printed on it, and 018 on the right. The letter from the Draft Board came two weeks later…
Eddie wheeled over to the table with the computer. Funny thing was, even though he couldn't feel a thing from the waist down, he was still horny as hell and loved women. Loved the way they looked, smelled and tasted- all of it. Lap dances, girls straddling him in his wheelchair, naked, rubbing their tits in his face.
Even though his equipment wasn't working, he still got off in his mind. Strippers loved taking care of him. Kind of mothered him. Gave him special treatment, especially at the Tiger's Den. So much so he quit going to other places along 8 Mile. He'd roll up in his modified van, exit via the hydraulic lift and wheel in the front door like a VIP. The girls would see him and come right over, one, two at a time. Vlad took good care of him there.
Man, it wasn't over yet. Chinese stem cell treatment. He read about it, studied it all the time. Read about the guy who was a quadriplegic and could feel his arms again. Read about the guy who could move his legs again, and feel his skin. Fetal brain tissue injections, umbilical chord blood injections. Read the success stories, didn't care about the risks. The Chinese clinics were all over the Web.
Takes time and money. Lots of both, and Eddie was short on money. With enough he could live in China up to six months for treatment and therapy, maybe even a year. Cut this place loose, get treatment then retire somewhere warm, maybe Thailand. Cheap to live, lots of foxy women who did what they were paid to do, and money went far there. This place wasn't worth anything. Did okay with his old man in his day, always broke even during the worst of times, but this was Twenty First Century Detroit, and worth next to nothing. Had some scratch tucked away, about three hundred thousand. With double that amount he could convert the three hundred to diamonds. Not as good as gold, but much more portable. Better than cash. Just one call to the fence and it would happen.
Eddie saw Vlad pull in the yard through the front office window. Eddie felt a pang, yearning as Vlad got out of the CTS and stood. Standing, walking. What was that like? Once in a while it came back to him in dreams, walking as a kid, or running through the elephant grass in Nam. Most of the time it was distant, abstract.
Spend time in China, get fixed and maybe learn to walk again. He was going to be upfront with the Chinese. Walking would be great, but man, the main thing was just to feel his dick again. No matter what it cost and what it took.
Vlad carried a paper bag and knocked. Eddie wheeled to the front entrance and unlocked the steel door. Vlad stood, looking down at Eddie, then walked in. He went over to Eddie's big work table and put down the package.
"Get the glasses. We need to talk some business."
Vlad sat at the work table. Eddie wheeled over to a cabinet and pulled out two filmy shot glasses. Vlad pulled a bottle of Absolut from the bag
Eddie sat on the floor with his back against a sofa, watching the big RCA television, drinking a bottle of 7-Up. A bunch of old men in suits stood around with some sitting schoolmarm looking woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses. One old guy was introduced and pulled out the first blue plastic pill-like container from a large glass bowl. The container looked like a giant Viagra pill. He opened the container, pulled out a tag with a birthdate printed on it and called out, "September fourteenth, number zero zero one." He handed off the tag, smiled and shook hands with another smiling suit.
SHIT..SHIT..SHIT
It hit Eddie like an incoming missile. He was number one in the draft, and all he wanted to do was to listen to Jimi Hendrix, learn how to play guitar, smoke a little weed here and there and work in the old man's shop, learn the business. He looked at the televised board, 001 on the left, a cream colored card with Sep 14 printed on it, and 018 on the right. The letter from the Draft Board came two weeks later…
Eddie wheeled over to the table with the computer. Funny thing was, even though he couldn't feel a thing from the waist down, he was still horny as hell and loved women. Loved the way they looked, smelled and tasted- all of it. Lap dances, girls straddling him in his wheelchair, naked, rubbing their tits in his face.
Even though his equipment wasn't working, he still got off in his mind. Strippers loved taking care of him. Kind of mothered him. Gave him special treatment, especially at the Tiger's Den. So much so he quit going to other places along 8 Mile. He'd roll up in his modified van, exit via the hydraulic lift and wheel in the front door like a VIP. The girls would see him and come right over, one, two at a time. Vlad took good care of him there.
Man, it wasn't over yet. Chinese stem cell treatment. He read about it, studied it all the time. Read about the guy who was a quadriplegic and could feel his arms again. Read about the guy who could move his legs again, and feel his skin. Fetal brain tissue injections, umbilical chord blood injections. Read the success stories, didn't care about the risks. The Chinese clinics were all over the Web.
Takes time and money. Lots of both, and Eddie was short on money. With enough he could live in China up to six months for treatment and therapy, maybe even a year. Cut this place loose, get treatment then retire somewhere warm, maybe Thailand. Cheap to live, lots of foxy women who did what they were paid to do, and money went far there. This place wasn't worth anything. Did okay with his old man in his day, always broke even during the worst of times, but this was Twenty First Century Detroit, and worth next to nothing. Had some scratch tucked away, about three hundred thousand. With double that amount he could convert the three hundred to diamonds. Not as good as gold, but much more portable. Better than cash. Just one call to the fence and it would happen.
Eddie saw Vlad pull in the yard through the front office window. Eddie felt a pang, yearning as Vlad got out of the CTS and stood. Standing, walking. What was that like? Once in a while it came back to him in dreams, walking as a kid, or running through the elephant grass in Nam. Most of the time it was distant, abstract.
Spend time in China, get fixed and maybe learn to walk again. He was going to be upfront with the Chinese. Walking would be great, but man, the main thing was just to feel his dick again. No matter what it cost and what it took.
Vlad carried a paper bag and knocked. Eddie wheeled to the front entrance and unlocked the steel door. Vlad stood, looking down at Eddie, then walked in. He went over to Eddie's big work table and put down the package.
"Get the glasses. We need to talk some business."
Vlad sat at the work table. Eddie wheeled over to a cabinet and pulled out two filmy shot glasses. Vlad pulled a bottle of Absolut from the bag
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