Drug Lord Empire
And so it came, the clock suddenly struck midnight, and the long awaited day had finally arrived. It was a cold rainy night in the thick of November, but on this night, the weather was the last thing on the mind of Daniel Watson and his fellow peers around the world. For tonight something so spectacular, something so simply electrifying, such a monumental moment in our nations history was about to occur.
Daniel Watson was a newly turned 12 year old, you know that awkward age where one really doesn’t have any self-identity, being forced to do only what your parents allow for you to, but being expected to accomplish great things on your own? That awkward age where you feel like you know everything there is to know in the world, yet haven’t even lived through the hellacious fires of high school? Well, that is exactly how young Daniel Watson was at this time.
“Mom!” shouted Daniel at the top of his lungs from down the stairs of his mother and fathers room.
“Just leave already Daniel, your father and I are trying to sleep for Christ’s sake.” Daniel’s mother dreadfully muttered from the once comfortable bed in which she had hoped to have a good nights sleep that night. You see, the great anticipation that Daniel and his friends had shown leading up to this very night, had driven the minds of their parents to almost complete insanity, restless nights, and thoughts that shouldn’t cross through the minds of sane mothers.
The game was called Drug Lord Empire, and appeared to be yet another video game that would greatly benefit the minds of the youth who were soon to play it… Right. His friend’s mother, who had the fortunate privilege of chauffeuring the pre-teen boys around that night, soon picked up Daniel. Oh you could only imagine the look of excitement on her face as Daniel, yet another overjoyed little boy crammed into her 2003 Oldsmobile Silhouette mini van that night.
The boys filed out of the van one by one, and rushed to the doors of their local Wal-Mart. Each young boy had rounded up every penny of their allowances that they had been saving the entire month leading up to this night, and purchased the greatly anticipated Drug Lord Empire. Their lives as they knew it, (and unfortunately their parents as well) would never be the same.
The boys, with eager anticipation, rudely rushed the boy’s mother home that night, as their minds were consumed by the mere thought of being the first to beat this new video game. Daniel hopped out of the mini van, and rushed into his house to start up his new generation PlayStation Four. The television began to glow nearly as much as Daniels expression as he watched the introduction to his new video game. A series of violent images, use of profanity, and drug use that no twelve year old should be exposed to, instantly captivated the mind of Daniel. . . . . . . .
Deep within the world of Drug Lord Empire:
“This is the problem. This is what's wrong with America. It's gotten so big, you just can't find your way. The grocery store on the corner is now a supermarket. The candy store is a McDonald's. And this place, a super-fucking discount store. Where's the pride of ownership, huh? Where's the personal service? You see what I mean? Shit. I mean, what right do they have, of cutting out the suppliers, pushing out all the middlemen, buying direct from the manufacturer? Sony this, Toshiba that. All them Chinks putting Americans out of work. That's the way it is now. We all need to look beyond this tight society of ours, and look to fuck it the same as its fucked us. You there, yeah you! You want to learn the ways of a legend? Believe me kid, I’ve already victimized this world, one in which we are destined to be the victims, I’ve made more money and enemies than one should ever have in twenty life times. Well kid, you see, this world here is just to boring to sit around and become complacent, I don’t have much time left here, and before I go, you and I are going to shake things up one last time. What do you say?
“Frank Lucas is the name.” Stated the smooth talking character. Mr. Lucas then continued to detail his days of drug smuggling during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. Lucas tells of his ability to cut out the middle man and how he was able to buy his “blue magic” heroin from a direct source. He then continued to boast about his ability to smuggle drugs in the coffins of dead American servicemen.
“The man I worked for, he had one of the biggest companies in New York City- he ran it for more than fifty years. Fifteen years, eight months, nine days, I was with him every day. I looked after him, took care of him, protected him... I learned from him. Bumpy was rich, but he wasn't white man rich, you see he wasn't wealthy. He didn’t own his own company. He thought he did, but he didn’t. He just managed it. White man owned it so they owned him. Nobody owns me, though. Because I own my company. And my company sells a product that’s better than the competition at a price that’s lower than the competition.” Frank Lucas was a man of many words.
“The world is full of opportunity, the quietest one in the room is always the weakest, remember that.” Protested Mr. Lucas.
“Now I am not saying that this is going to be easy, hell nothing is the same as it was in my day, the market and economy has changed, so shit, you must be wondering, what do I know about Drug trafficking? That’s why you have me now don’t ya?” Boasted the confident Lucas.
It was a stunningly gorgeous, warm and sunny summer day in the middle of May. Mr. Lucas had invited me over to his house for a little weekend fun, or “business matter,” as I was instructed to refer to it as. I walked up the stairs to the enormous house that lay ahead, my mind raced and I’d be lying if I said I had not wished I could turn back around. I knocked on the door, nervous about what would happen next. I was greeted by a warming smile; it was Mr. Lucas’s wife, she welcomed me into her home. An unexpected large crowd greeted me, and for a moment in time my mind had become more at ease.
“My Man!” exclaimed Mr. Lucas from a far. I turned around to see the only familiar face in the entire room approaching me. Mr. Lucas was wearing a classy black suit, every inch tailored with the upmost detail; he carried himself in a very professional manner, and domineered over the rest of the crowd that was gathered in his home that warm afternoon.
“How we doing today my man?” Asked Mr. Lucas with a stern look on his face.
“I’m alright,” I responded not wanting to say anything that made me look foolish. Mr. Lucas looked at me dead in the eye; it was as though he was trying to look deep into my mind. I hoped I had not given off a dear in the headlights look, as my mind began to race once again, could he tell how nervous and scared I was at that very moment?
“Relax, come with me, I did tell you today is for business did I not?” Mr. Lucas said with a sly grin on his face. I followed Mr. Lucas out of the main room up a series of stairs around the corner into a very long hallway.
“This is my home, my wife, my mother, my entire family, my country, this is where my business is, I ain’t goin’ nowhere until the good Lord decides its best, and that’s when you get what I got.” The words seemed to just pour out of Lucas’s mouth with utter ease.
“What is that you got on there?” Asked Mr. Lucas
“What? This?” I replied.
“Yeah, that.” Responded the witty Lucas.
“This is a very, very, nice suit.” I quickly uttered.
“A very, very nice suit, huh? What you got there is a clown suit, that’s a costume with a huge sign on it saying arrest me. You understand me? You’re too loud, what did I tell about the loudest one in the room?” Exclaimed Lucas in a manner that sent chills down my spine. I was learning quickly, as I found myself clearly remembering exactly what Lucas had previously told me.
“They’re the weakest one in the room.” I responded to Mr. Lucas’s question.
“My man! You’re catching on. Now remember this, success, it’s got its enemies. You can choose to be successful and have enemies, or you can be unsuccessful and have friends. It’s your decision which one you ultimately choose, you understand? Mr. Lucas words bellowed out of his mouth.
“Yes, I understand.” I responded with mixed feelings, as though I wasn’t quite sure if I did fully understand how one could live life without friends. Everything in my life was about to change, and I didn’t even know it. Lucas continued to speak swiftly, filling my head with thoughts that placed my mind into oblivion. I heard his words, but my mind was lost elsewhere. Was I really about to join forces with one of the most notoriously known, corrupt individuals in all of the eastern part of our God forsaken country?
“You see all those friends of mine out there? I got them here, I took care of them, and so they take care of me. What they don’t realize is they’re all here today because they’re not in fact my friends, they’re my enemies, dressed as my friends, riding around thinking I don’t know what the hells going on behind my back. They don’t have any place in my home, and that’s what you’re here to take care of today.” Frank’s face grew with a bitter grin, as he spoke these frightening words to me. My mind now raced with thoughts about what was to come.
“What exactly am I here for?” I asked with a great deal of confusion.
“Those people out there don’t belong on the streets, my streets. It’s your job too make sure that I, and eventually yourself, never have to deal with any of these corrupt bastards in the near future.” Mr. Lucas avowed with a sheer tone of hostility. Before I knew it, Mr. Lucas and I were no longer the only two in the room. I looked around and ten or so of Lucas’s gangsters surrounded me.
“The most important thing in business is honesty, next is integrity, hard work, and family, and these people here today ain’t my family. Never forget where you come from.” I shook my head and agreed with Frank’s words.
“Those people out there, you see the way the look at you, me, my wife, why would you trust these people? They look at me like its Christmas and I’m fucking Santa Claus. Well, now its time for Santa and his elves to slide down that chimney and give them all their deserved presents.” Mr. Lucas shouted. I knew what my first task as Mr. Lucas’s predecessor was about to entail, and I knew there was no turning back.
“I’ve showed you, now it’s your turn to show me something.” Mr. Lucas said to me before exiting the room.
We discussed our plan of attack for the next thirty minutes or so, although it felt like just a few seconds to me. We loaded up our weapons and approached the great hall where all of Frank Lucas’s friends, now discovered to in fact be enemies, were gathered.
“Alright little boy, let’s see why the fuck your Frank’s new right hand man, huh.” Whispered Mr. Lucas’s gangster in a patronizing manner right outside the doorway to the great hall.
I don’t know what was sparked inside of me at this time, but I began to have uncontrollable feelings of rage and determination. I didn’t just want what Frank Lucas had, I wanted to be better.
“You want to know why?” I responded to the gangster.
“This is why.” I pulled my weapon and shot the gangster square between his eyes. It was a risky move, but one that proved to work, as I seemed to gain a sense of respect from the other gangsters. We knew there was no time for any horseplay and we stormed into the great hall.
There was a great deal of commotion, and that same feeling, one of power, seemed to be consuming my mind and body. Bullets began to fly every which way Ruckus and chaos filled the room. I was a man on a mission. A mission to meet the approval of the figure of whom I sought to be like. I lost all sense of conscientiousness, and transformed into a raging killing machine, and with one final BANG . . .
“Daniel! Shouted Mrs. Watson.
“What in God’s name are you doing up, it’s after five o’clock in the morning child, go to sleep!” Mrs. Watson screamed, as she was not happy with her son.
The young Daniel’s mind was restless, consumed with thoughts of Frank Lucas and taking control of his empire. Daniel logged out of his account, and shut down his knew video game for the night. He went to sleep early that morning, his mind already eager to rise the next morning and continue playing the game.
And so it came, the clock suddenly struck midnight, and the long awaited day had finally arrived. It was a cold rainy night in the thick of November, but on this night, the weather was the last thing on the mind of Daniel Watson and his fellow peers around the world. For tonight something so spectacular, something so simply electrifying, such a monumental moment in our nations history was about to occur.
Daniel Watson was a newly turned 12 year old, you know that awkward age where one really doesn’t have any self-identity, being forced to do only what your parents allow for you to, but being expected to accomplish great things on your own? That awkward age where you feel like you know everything there is to know in the world, yet haven’t even lived through the hellacious fires of high school? Well, that is exactly how young Daniel Watson was at this time.
“Mom!” shouted Daniel at the top of his lungs from down the stairs of his mother and fathers room.
“Just leave already Daniel, your father and I are trying to sleep for Christ’s sake.” Daniel’s mother dreadfully muttered from the once comfortable bed in which she had hoped to have a good nights sleep that night. You see, the great anticipation that Daniel and his friends had shown leading up to this very night, had driven the minds of their parents to almost complete insanity, restless nights, and thoughts that shouldn’t cross through the minds of sane mothers.
The game was called Drug Lord Empire, and appeared to be yet another video game that would greatly benefit the minds of the youth who were soon to play it… Right. His friend’s mother, who had the fortunate privilege of chauffeuring the pre-teen boys around that night, soon picked up Daniel. Oh you could only imagine the look of excitement on her face as Daniel, yet another overjoyed little boy crammed into her 2003 Oldsmobile Silhouette mini van that night.
The boys filed out of the van one by one, and rushed to the doors of their local Wal-Mart. Each young boy had rounded up every penny of their allowances that they had been saving the entire month leading up to this night, and purchased the greatly anticipated Drug Lord Empire. Their lives as they knew it, (and unfortunately their parents as well) would never be the same.
The boys, with eager anticipation, rudely rushed the boy’s mother home that night, as their minds were consumed by the mere thought of being the first to beat this new video game. Daniel hopped out of the mini van, and rushed into his house to start up his new generation PlayStation Four. The television began to glow nearly as much as Daniels expression as he watched the introduction to his new video game. A series of violent images, use of profanity, and drug use that no twelve year old should be exposed to, instantly captivated the mind of Daniel. . . . . . . .
Deep within the world of Drug Lord Empire:
“This is the problem. This is what's wrong with America. It's gotten so big, you just can't find your way. The grocery store on the corner is now a supermarket. The candy store is a McDonald's. And this place, a super-fucking discount store. Where's the pride of ownership, huh? Where's the personal service? You see what I mean? Shit. I mean, what right do they have, of cutting out the suppliers, pushing out all the middlemen, buying direct from the manufacturer? Sony this, Toshiba that. All them Chinks putting Americans out of work. That's the way it is now. We all need to look beyond this tight society of ours, and look to fuck it the same as its fucked us. You there, yeah you! You want to learn the ways of a legend? Believe me kid, I’ve already victimized this world, one in which we are destined to be the victims, I’ve made more money and enemies than one should ever have in twenty life times. Well kid, you see, this world here is just to boring to sit around and become complacent, I don’t have much time left here, and before I go, you and I are going to shake things up one last time. What do you say?
“Frank Lucas is the name.” Stated the smooth talking character. Mr. Lucas then continued to detail his days of drug smuggling during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. Lucas tells of his ability to cut out the middle man and how he was able to buy his “blue magic” heroin from a direct source. He then continued to boast about his ability to smuggle drugs in the coffins of dead American servicemen.
“The man I worked for, he had one of the biggest companies in New York City- he ran it for more than fifty years. Fifteen years, eight months, nine days, I was with him every day. I looked after him, took care of him, protected him... I learned from him. Bumpy was rich, but he wasn't white man rich, you see he wasn't wealthy. He didn’t own his own company. He thought he did, but he didn’t. He just managed it. White man owned it so they owned him. Nobody owns me, though. Because I own my company. And my company sells a product that’s better than the competition at a price that’s lower than the competition.” Frank Lucas was a man of many words.
“The world is full of opportunity, the quietest one in the room is always the weakest, remember that.” Protested Mr. Lucas.
“Now I am not saying that this is going to be easy, hell nothing is the same as it was in my day, the market and economy has changed, so shit, you must be wondering, what do I know about Drug trafficking? That’s why you have me now don’t ya?” Boasted the confident Lucas.
It was a stunningly gorgeous, warm and sunny summer day in the middle of May. Mr. Lucas had invited me over to his house for a little weekend fun, or “business matter,” as I was instructed to refer to it as. I walked up the stairs to the enormous house that lay ahead, my mind raced and I’d be lying if I said I had not wished I could turn back around. I knocked on the door, nervous about what would happen next. I was greeted by a warming smile; it was Mr. Lucas’s wife, she welcomed me into her home. An unexpected large crowd greeted me, and for a moment in time my mind had become more at ease.
“My Man!” exclaimed Mr. Lucas from a far. I turned around to see the only familiar face in the entire room approaching me. Mr. Lucas was wearing a classy black suit, every inch tailored with the upmost detail; he carried himself in a very professional manner, and domineered over the rest of the crowd that was gathered in his home that warm afternoon.
“How we doing today my man?” Asked Mr. Lucas with a stern look on his face.
“I’m alright,” I responded not wanting to say anything that made me look foolish. Mr. Lucas looked at me dead in the eye; it was as though he was trying to look deep into my mind. I hoped I had not given off a dear in the headlights look, as my mind began to race once again, could he tell how nervous and scared I was at that very moment?
“Relax, come with me, I did tell you today is for business did I not?” Mr. Lucas said with a sly grin on his face. I followed Mr. Lucas out of the main room up a series of stairs around the corner into a very long hallway.
“This is my home, my wife, my mother, my entire family, my country, this is where my business is, I ain’t goin’ nowhere until the good Lord decides its best, and that’s when you get what I got.” The words seemed to just pour out of Lucas’s mouth with utter ease.
“What is that you got on there?” Asked Mr. Lucas
“What? This?” I replied.
“Yeah, that.” Responded the witty Lucas.
“This is a very, very, nice suit.” I quickly uttered.
“A very, very nice suit, huh? What you got there is a clown suit, that’s a costume with a huge sign on it saying arrest me. You understand me? You’re too loud, what did I tell about the loudest one in the room?” Exclaimed Lucas in a manner that sent chills down my spine. I was learning quickly, as I found myself clearly remembering exactly what Lucas had previously told me.
“They’re the weakest one in the room.” I responded to Mr. Lucas’s question.
“My man! You’re catching on. Now remember this, success, it’s got its enemies. You can choose to be successful and have enemies, or you can be unsuccessful and have friends. It’s your decision which one you ultimately choose, you understand? Mr. Lucas words bellowed out of his mouth.
“Yes, I understand.” I responded with mixed feelings, as though I wasn’t quite sure if I did fully understand how one could live life without friends. Everything in my life was about to change, and I didn’t even know it. Lucas continued to speak swiftly, filling my head with thoughts that placed my mind into oblivion. I heard his words, but my mind was lost elsewhere. Was I really about to join forces with one of the most notoriously known, corrupt individuals in all of the eastern part of our God forsaken country?
“You see all those friends of mine out there? I got them here, I took care of them, and so they take care of me. What they don’t realize is they’re all here today because they’re not in fact my friends, they’re my enemies, dressed as my friends, riding around thinking I don’t know what the hells going on behind my back. They don’t have any place in my home, and that’s what you’re here to take care of today.” Frank’s face grew with a bitter grin, as he spoke these frightening words to me. My mind now raced with thoughts about what was to come.
“What exactly am I here for?” I asked with a great deal of confusion.
“Those people out there don’t belong on the streets, my streets. It’s your job too make sure that I, and eventually yourself, never have to deal with any of these corrupt bastards in the near future.” Mr. Lucas avowed with a sheer tone of hostility. Before I knew it, Mr. Lucas and I were no longer the only two in the room. I looked around and ten or so of Lucas’s gangsters surrounded me.
“The most important thing in business is honesty, next is integrity, hard work, and family, and these people here today ain’t my family. Never forget where you come from.” I shook my head and agreed with Frank’s words.
“Those people out there, you see the way the look at you, me, my wife, why would you trust these people? They look at me like its Christmas and I’m fucking Santa Claus. Well, now its time for Santa and his elves to slide down that chimney and give them all their deserved presents.” Mr. Lucas shouted. I knew what my first task as Mr. Lucas’s predecessor was about to entail, and I knew there was no turning back.
“I’ve showed you, now it’s your turn to show me something.” Mr. Lucas said to me before exiting the room.
We discussed our plan of attack for the next thirty minutes or so, although it felt like just a few seconds to me. We loaded up our weapons and approached the great hall where all of Frank Lucas’s friends, now discovered to in fact be enemies, were gathered.
“Alright little boy, let’s see why the fuck your Frank’s new right hand man, huh.” Whispered Mr. Lucas’s gangster in a patronizing manner right outside the doorway to the great hall.
I don’t know what was sparked inside of me at this time, but I began to have uncontrollable feelings of rage and determination. I didn’t just want what Frank Lucas had, I wanted to be better.
“You want to know why?” I responded to the gangster.
“This is why.” I pulled my weapon and shot the gangster square between his eyes. It was a risky move, but one that proved to work, as I seemed to gain a sense of respect from the other gangsters. We knew there was no time for any horseplay and we stormed into the great hall.
There was a great deal of commotion, and that same feeling, one of power, seemed to be consuming my mind and body. Bullets began to fly every which way Ruckus and chaos filled the room. I was a man on a mission. A mission to meet the approval of the figure of whom I sought to be like. I lost all sense of conscientiousness, and transformed into a raging killing machine, and with one final BANG . . .
“Daniel! Shouted Mrs. Watson.
“What in God’s name are you doing up, it’s after five o’clock in the morning child, go to sleep!” Mrs. Watson screamed, as she was not happy with her son.
The young Daniel’s mind was restless, consumed with thoughts of Frank Lucas and taking control of his empire. Daniel logged out of his account, and shut down his knew video game for the night. He went to sleep early that morning, his mind already eager to rise the next morning and continue playing the game.
Every group of friends always has that one guy who never really seems to have anything go his way. Spilt drinks, dropped dishes, gasoline spraying all over you, awkwardly farting while sitting next to the “hot” girl in class, you know, “that friend.” Ben Dover’s life has been about as lucky as the name his parents gave him minutes after his birth, truly a blessing in disguise. As amusing as Ben’s name may in fact appear, his birth story may have provided even more laughs.
On February 24th 1992, Ben Dover was brought into this world in the most memorable fashion. Ben’s mother Janice was given an epidural because the doctor had to check on Ben’s mouth, delaying the birth, where as, he uncontrollably had a bowel movement which can be extremely dangerous during child birth. Ben’s little head was barley popping out when his father made a sly remark to his mother that forced her into an uproar of uncontrollable laughter, causing her to push and push in an overwhelming manner. The doctor attempted to get her to stop laughing, but failed in doing so.
“Janice you need to calm down…. CALM DOWN!” Exclaimed the doctor. Their was no way of calming the overly joyed soon to be mother.
Seconds later out popped the seven pound eight ounce clumsy little Ben with merely a slight sound. The young Ben did not cry, he did not kick, nor scream. If only this would had been the case throughout the early course of Ben’s life.
“Hey Mom.” Cried out the now four year old awkward Ben. The Dover family was on their way home from a dreadful family night out at the local church festival.
“Yes honey?” Replied Ben’s Mother.
“Do you think……”
Suddenly, the Dover family made a sharp right turn onto their street. The automatic van door had flung open and Ben was blown out of the car like a soldier parachuting to safety. Although safety, in this instance, was not the case.
“Oh my God Robert stop the car!” Ben’s mother cried out in shock and fear.
“OWWW OWWWW!” Wailed Ben in pain.
A simple mechanical malfunction had left the young Ben with a major laceration on his skull, requiring numerous staples, while leaving Ben in a world of pain, and awfully unlucky.
This instance is just one of many in the line of an unfortunate series of events that plagues Ben during his young life. Unfortunate luck seemed to follow him down whichever road he traveled. It did not help that Ben’s family was rather troublesome and lacked interest in his life.
“Ben!” Screamed Ben’s mom from up the stairs.
“I’m sorting through your clothes to take what you don’t need to the thrift store.” Ben did not hear his mother as he was in a hurry to get to school that morning.
Later that afternoon when Ben arrived home from school, his mother was gossiping tirelessly on the phone about redundant garbage rather than greeting Ben.
“Ben, would you do something with yourself and do a favor for your mom?” She whispered while covering the phone As if he wasn’t a slave to her demands already.
“What do you need me to do mom?” Responded Ben without any defiance or attitude.
“Take that bag of clothes over there down to the thrift store and stop at the grocery store on your way home, can you handle that?” Ben was tired from a long day at school but still agreed to run the errands.
Ben, completely unaware that his clothes lay inside the bag his mother asked him to take, sold the entire bag that day for merely ten dollars. The wallet that was inside the jeans pocket that Ben would soon come to know his mother put in the bag was full of his personal belongings, social security card, and over one hundred dollars in cash. To call Ben Dover unlucky may actually be quite an understatement.
Ben was furious with his Mom, but it appeared that she larger matters to deal with that day.
“Ben we need to have a talk.” Janice said with a stern look on her face.
“Your father and I are getting a divorce, it’s just how it has to be, we’re not happy. Until everything is worked out you’re going to be living with your grandma. Your father and I both need some space, between you, all the troubles your always causing, the lies and late night drinking your father is always doing, not too mention…” Ben interrupted Janice.
“Stop! You’re telling me that neither you nor Dad want me living with you anymore?” The empty feeling Ben exclaimed, exiting the room choosing to forgo anything his mother possibly had left to say.
On February 24th 1992, Ben Dover was brought into this world in the most memorable fashion. Ben’s mother Janice was given an epidural because the doctor had to check on Ben’s mouth, delaying the birth, where as, he uncontrollably had a bowel movement which can be extremely dangerous during child birth. Ben’s little head was barley popping out when his father made a sly remark to his mother that forced her into an uproar of uncontrollable laughter, causing her to push and push in an overwhelming manner. The doctor attempted to get her to stop laughing, but failed in doing so.
“Janice you need to calm down…. CALM DOWN!” Exclaimed the doctor. Their was no way of calming the overly joyed soon to be mother.
Seconds later out popped the seven pound eight ounce clumsy little Ben with merely a slight sound. The young Ben did not cry, he did not kick, nor scream. If only this would had been the case throughout the early course of Ben’s life.
“Hey Mom.” Cried out the now four year old awkward Ben. The Dover family was on their way home from a dreadful family night out at the local church festival.
“Yes honey?” Replied Ben’s Mother.
“Do you think……”
Suddenly, the Dover family made a sharp right turn onto their street. The automatic van door had flung open and Ben was blown out of the car like a soldier parachuting to safety. Although safety, in this instance, was not the case.
“Oh my God Robert stop the car!” Ben’s mother cried out in shock and fear.
“OWWW OWWWW!” Wailed Ben in pain.
A simple mechanical malfunction had left the young Ben with a major laceration on his skull, requiring numerous staples, while leaving Ben in a world of pain, and awfully unlucky.
This instance is just one of many in the line of an unfortunate series of events that plagues Ben during his young life. Unfortunate luck seemed to follow him down whichever road he traveled. It did not help that Ben’s family was rather troublesome and lacked interest in his life.
“Ben!” Screamed Ben’s mom from up the stairs.
“I’m sorting through your clothes to take what you don’t need to the thrift store.” Ben did not hear his mother as he was in a hurry to get to school that morning.
Later that afternoon when Ben arrived home from school, his mother was gossiping tirelessly on the phone about redundant garbage rather than greeting Ben.
“Ben, would you do something with yourself and do a favor for your mom?” She whispered while covering the phone As if he wasn’t a slave to her demands already.
“What do you need me to do mom?” Responded Ben without any defiance or attitude.
“Take that bag of clothes over there down to the thrift store and stop at the grocery store on your way home, can you handle that?” Ben was tired from a long day at school but still agreed to run the errands.
Ben, completely unaware that his clothes lay inside the bag his mother asked him to take, sold the entire bag that day for merely ten dollars. The wallet that was inside the jeans pocket that Ben would soon come to know his mother put in the bag was full of his personal belongings, social security card, and over one hundred dollars in cash. To call Ben Dover unlucky may actually be quite an understatement.
Ben was furious with his Mom, but it appeared that she larger matters to deal with that day.
“Ben we need to have a talk.” Janice said with a stern look on her face.
“Your father and I are getting a divorce, it’s just how it has to be, we’re not happy. Until everything is worked out you’re going to be living with your grandma. Your father and I both need some space, between you, all the troubles your always causing, the lies and late night drinking your father is always doing, not too mention…” Ben interrupted Janice.
“Stop! You’re telling me that neither you nor Dad want me living with you anymore?” The empty feeling Ben exclaimed, exiting the room choosing to forgo anything his mother possibly had left to say.