Skip to main content

THE DOPE FEIGNS DREAM by Mark Anthony Given

TO HOLD A PEN is to be at war. #VOLTAIRE

               THE DOPE FEIDNS DREAM was sitting on a motel bed along the interstate forty-five minutes from ground zero or the New Orleans French Quarter in a faded Superman pillow case off my girlfriend's bed in Gentilly.  Now it was slap full of Schedule II Narcotics I liberated from Tony's Discount Drugs I successfully burglarized and described in "The Real Drugstore Cowboy," down at the bottom of this blog.  And now every dope feigns dream was at hand.  Dollar signs were shooting off like sparks in the corner of my eye's and everything motion I made dumping them out on the big double room bed, the room started to spin an elation from the center of my being in every direction I couldn't stop smiling I was about to piss my pants or take a good dump I needed to get in the shower immediately I was soaked from humidity at seven o'clock in the morning.  Had to be forty or fifty bottles or whatever filled up the bottom of a large aluminum pharmacist draw.  Desoxyn 5 & 15 milligram.  Dilaudid in the hundreds! Percodan, Demerol, Seconal, Placadyl, two-quart bottles of liquid Tussionex Suspension. 
Prelude 75 ml.  Need I go on? 
             PEAKED OUT THE
MOTEL curtains the worlds was hauling ass by, people were checking out, housekeeping at the end of the run, I felt like I was in a dream that turned into reality and I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't, looking back on it, it seemed the crime to obtain the criminal substance was making me higher than the substance.  That make any sense?  Anyway, there were no police sirens or shouts to "Come out with your hands
up!"  It was time to get high....

To be continued....
11:03 AM 7/3/2015

Copyright 2015 by Mark Anthony Given All Rights Reserved 28 USC 1746, Invoking 90 Stat. 2541 and Article 2(4) of the Berne Convention for the 
Protection of Literary and Artistic Works

Popular posts from this blog

My Appointment With the Devil by Mark Anthony Given


We may not pay Satan reverence, for that would be indiscreet,  but we can at least respect his talents. -Mark Twain
  MID-THIRTIES I found myself alone at a lonely interstate rest area in Florida in the middle of the night, having driven from  New Orleans for the last several days, I went from rest area to rest area withdrawing from Methadone, starving but couldn't eat.  Dying of thirst, but couldn't drink.  Throwing up, diarrhea, high temperature and worst of all, I couldn't sleep.  Beg for sleep for three or four hours and sleep for ten minutes and start all over again.  I was at probably the lowest point of my life.  And I still had an appointment with the devil.    And he's going to be here in a minute.....          THE DEVIL IS REAL.  I met him.  Twice.  I know you're not going to believe this but I don't care.  I ain't got a reason to lie to y…

Circle Jerk City by Mark Anthony Given

This very first ever eBook created on Facebook, Twitter and Blogspot simultaneously!, “Real Men, Real Case's, Real Life Heist’s The Dope Feign Shuffle,” the entirely true story Cover to cover, Beginning to end, Word for word, Page to page, Edit to edit, right down to the very last One Wrong Word: Began April 27, 2013 to Present By Mark Anthony Given. 4/27/2013 7:26:07 AM Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved
 My father carries around the picture of the kid who came with his wallet.
-Rodney Dangerfield

I BUSTED OUT OF every juvenile home they placed me in when I was a kid. Industry, The New York State School for Boys, fifteen miles south of Rochester, New York where my parents were, was the largest juvenile reformatory in the Empire State. I thought of this escape hundreds of times throughout the years as the seminal moment I became bad. Not real bad mind you, but bad none the less. Still thinking I was Matt Helm or James Bond, I plo…

The One Man Crime Wave by Mark Anthony Given


TO HAVE ONCE been a criminal is no disgrace.
To remain a criminal is the disgrace. ―Malcolm X #malcomx ______________________________________________________
I JUST ROBBED the Hancock Bank & Trust in downtown Gulfport, Mississippi with my trusty twenty-cent Bic and blank checks I found on doorsteps out of Another Hot Grand (link below) and was driving down beautiful Highway 90 in West Biloxi Beach with patches of condos and now casinos and plenty of places to pull over and enjoy the sea breeze and smell of seafood.  They had almost completed the I-110 interchange linking Interstate 10 with the Gulf of Mexico.  Right where the cars are discharged onto Highway 90, is the original/first high rise ten or twelve stories upscale apartment building.  The owner lived on the top and I was told he won the building in a poker game.  It was said to have been built to withstand any hurricane and you can see it still standing after Katrina. …