Needle Nancy And Tramp Stamp – Part Deux

We left off last time when Tramp Stamp called the police…

I handed her the phone. She began to get frantic again.

“Yes. Hello, this is Tramp Stamp. My boyfriend just tried to kill me! He [censored] [censored] [censored] tried to kill me.”

(The operator on the other end responded to her}

“He came over and wanted to have sex with me. I told him I didn’t want to have sex. So he went into the cupboard and grabbed the bleach. He then threw it all over me. It’s all over me. It’s in my face and my hair. My kids were crying telling him to stop but he just kept pouring it on me. It’s all over me and my clothes and my bed. He ruined my white sheets.”

(The operator responses again.)

“No. I don’t need an ambulance. I think I am okay. It just got on my me and my eyes.” Please come. My address is (removed to protect the victim).

Needle Nancy comes to my door and knocks. She is smoking a cigarette. She exhales and starts talking about the crazy boyfriend/husband. Be he whatever they want. I know he’s crazy and he tried to kill her with bleach.

“Thanks for letting her use your phone.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

I check my surroundings. I am looking for the explorer he drives. I really don’t want to be seen talking to these fine woman when there is a bleach murderer running around the neighborhood. Could you imagine if the Bleach Murderer saw me? He’ll kill me. But he’s smart about his choice of weapon. After the murders, there is no need to clean up. The weapon does it for him. Genius. Pure genius.

“Do you want to come in? You know? Where it’s safe?”

“Nah. I’m okay.”

She sighs and shakes her head. She curses him and says how she’ll kill him if he comes back.

“Oh. I’m sorry Needle Nancy. I wasn’t meaning where it’s safe for you. I was talking about me. I really don’t want to get involved in this spat between Tramp Stamp and her murderous boyfriend/husband.”

“Can I call my mom after she’s done? I need to get my mom to bring me a phone. That [censored] stole my phone and Tramp Stamp’s phone.”

“Sure. I guess. You sure you don’t want to come in?”

I was really hoping she would. One, the door was wide open, letting in all the bugs. Secondly, I have things I could be doing, and thirdly, I kind of don’t want to die. But still,  she wouldn’t. She just stood there and smoked a second cigarette.

“I’m sorry. This is effin’ messed up. He took everything. You know he like threw bleach on her?”

“Yeah. I can smell it. I hope she’s okay.”

“I was in the bathroom taking a shower.”

Okay. You can stop right there. This is turning out to be really creepy. Tramp Stamp is sitting on my couch with her ass hanging out. At least the bleach she was dosed in killed anything living on her. We got her and now, we got you. Here you are. Standing inches from me, telling me about your shower you were taking while your BFF was getting murdered in the next room.

“I didn’t see anything. I came out when he was running out of the house. The [censored] ran and stole our car.”

Side Story!

I am perplexed to why he took the car. Where was his car? He has a nice car. Why steal their POS? A few days before this fiasco, he was screaming abou someone stealing 2,300 dollars worth of CDs and equipment from his car. He went in his car, screamed obscenities, got out of the car, and went back in their apartment. He then left the apartment and back to his car. He peeled out of the parking lot and drove away. Less than a minute later he was back. He stormed back in their apartment and screamed. He leaves. Again. This time he speeds away, slams on his break and looks at me.

Yo, man! You see anyone in my car?”

“Sorry, dude. I keep to myself here.”

“No man. I mean like from now on. If you see anyone in my car and messing with it, you let me know. Okay?”


“Someone is gonna get eff’ed up. You don’t messed with my [censored].”

He sped off and faded off into the horizon.

Back to our original scheduled program…

I turned my attention back over to Tramp Stamp. She was telling the story again to the operator on the other end.

I broke up with my boyfriend and he isn’t suppose to come over any more but I let him. He came in and started screaming and then wanted to have sex with me. I told him I didn’t. (Still unsure why this man would want to have sex with her) So he grab the bleach and poured it all over me. Then he tried to smother me with a pillow so I couldn’t talk or breathe. He held in down really tight. He bit me on my back.   My kids started screaming and he left. He took my phone and my car. He stole my car!”

(The operator speaks to her.)

“He could be anywhere. He knows like everyone in this city. He has friends and posses everywhere.”

She rambled off city after city. Whoa. You’re not kidding, TS. He can be anywhere. She described the car and said how the plate was a memorial to her deceased father. She said repeatedly to the operator to, “hurry! please hurry! you have got to hurry!” She thanks me for letting me use her phone. I hand the phone to Needle Nancy. Tramp Stamp then lifts up her shirt to show me the bite marks. No thanks, TS. I don’t like jelly rolls. Why and how do I get involved in this stuff?

Nancy called her mom. She told her version of the story. Same thing. He wanted sex and she said no. But she didn’t see anything cause she was in the shower washing away whatever she caught turning tricks the night before. She hung up the phone and handed it to me. You know it was strange to see in my ‘recent call list’ the number 911. I cleared the call list. I didn’t want to somehow call back 911.

Her little pep talk with the operator worked. Within minutes the cops arrived.

Not one.

Not two.

But three. Three squad cars pull into our quite little area of suburbia. One officer drove by my humble abode and glared at me. Don’t look at me. I didn’t do crap. I am the hero in this picture. He was the officer that stopped me one day as I was dumping trash. He thought I was in some tween group of hoodlums terrorizing the neighborhood. I know I don’t look my age but I don’t look that young. Gee, Officer Krupke.

Krup you.

Wait..scratch that. Count it four squad cars now. Plus the ambulance she didn’t want but came anyway. They weren’t there very long. The bleach must have not hurt her that bad. What’s the worst that could have happen to you? A few frosted tips of hair?

After the entire city’s police force arrived on our street, I closed my door and went back to my life. Later that night, the car that was stolen was back. I imagined he was picked up somewhere and taken in for assault with a cleaning solution. But I was wrong. Who arrives the next day at their apartment in his nice car? Yep. The Bleach Murderer was back. It was like nothing happened.

The adventure ends here. If they get into another fight and all hell breaks loose, I’ll let you all know.

Till then,

stay clean.


Needle Nancy and Tramp Stamp – Part I

The following story is true. Even the most talented writers in Hollywood couldn’t make something like this up. True stories are always the best.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. I was resting on the couch after a long day of work. My sister sent me a text.

“Can you pick up your sister at 6?”


I closed my eyes again. I wasn’t feeling that great. I had another episode of my attacks. My heart raced, my breathing was heavy and I was having a tough time focusing. As soon as I closed my eyes, I heard  ruckus from outside. I am well adjusted to the noise and chaos that come with living in this peaceful neighborhood. But this time it was different. Could something be afoot? Could there be some real danger that I am not aware of? Has Claudia escaped?

I checked the wall and it was good. She was still inside. Still, the noise outside went on. It grew louder and more foul. I like to be aware of my surroundings. I am not saying I care about my neighbors. Really, I don’t. I mean one neighbor cannot figure out the workings of a washer and dryer and the other is a bi-lingual man who likes to think I am a nuisance to him and his two young hell hounds.

Side story!

Mr. Bi-lingual or as I like to call him, Carlos, was outside one day with his children playing a game. I don’t know what game. It involved counting. So I am guessing hide and seek. Anyways, I hear his children laughing and playing about. He said something in Spanish that I didn’t understand. The only phrase I know in Spanish is, “¿Dónde está el comida?” As I sat at my computer, he started to count backwards from ten,

“diez, nueve, ocho, siete, seis, cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno…”

then, he says in English, “ready or not, here I come!”

I guess it was a ‘you had to be there kind of thing” So, where was I? Oh, yeah. The noise. I go outside for a smoke. I can hear two woman cursing about. Obscenities are flying out of their mouth. Andrew Dice Clay had nothing on this ladies. Rub a dub dub, OH!

One lady, spotted me. She was probably early twenties. She looks normal. If normal people has needle marks and a needle sticking out of their arm, then she is as normal as any 12th and prospect lady can be. She starts walking towards me. Her mother or sister, or whatever the other lady is, is away. She is out back looking for someone with a phone. Needle Nancy throws up gang signs and crunks her way towards me. “Yo! (no lie. She really said, yo.) Youz gots a phone I can use?

“All I have is my cell.”

“Youz got a phone?”


“Hey, Tramp Stamp! The neighbor kid has a phone!”

I was pretty offended when she called me a kid. But whatever, yo. Tramp Stamp comes stampeding from around the bend. She looked pretty upset. I would be too if I was caught in the outfit she had on. She had on these tattered gray shorts, a top that I think was probably bought at baby gap, and one sock. A sock with a hole in it. Her pinky toe was ugly. Pink nail polish. Not hot.

So Needle Nancy and Tramp Stamp come to me. Out come the water works. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! I need to use your phone!”

I hand her my phone. I ask if she was okay. Damn me for being a caring person. “He tried to kill me! He [censored] tried to kill me!”

Whoa. Wow. Are you effin’ serious? Maybe I better not let you use my phone.

She is standing outside door and I am standing in my apartment. “He wanted to have sex and I was all, no. So he shoved me!” She paused.

She makes her way into my apartment. She takes a seat on my couch. Guess I won’t be needing that couch anymore. Way to go, Tramp Stamp.  She is still crying. She is a bit incoherent. I can’t make out much of what she is saying. She dials 9-1-1 and then looks puzzled. “I don’t think I dialed right.”

She hands me the phone and I look at it. The call is connected to 9-1-1. I put it to my ear.

“9-1-1 emergency. please state the nature of this call.”

Hey, Tramp Stamp. It’s the law. It’s for you.