Miscommunication

Miscommunication

I can’t believe they released me back into society! After spending 13 years in a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane. I was suddenly released back into society.  I was given a life sentence there for slaughtering a herd of Bison’s Latifrons at The National Bison Range in the National Wildlife Refuge located in western Montana established in 1908 to provide a sanctuary for the American bison.

I was diagnosed criminally insane by the time I got caught trying to get my hustle on by skinning and making fur coats out of them 300 bison’s I poached. My mind was truly living in the western past.

I was an avid reader of Louis Dearborn L'Amour western novels, when I was a young boy growing up in the streets in Harlem in the 70’s. Harlem in the 1970s was marked with violence and rapes and engulfed with the extremely poor, the uneducated, the unemployed black folks wall to wall or living happily in slum tenements. Nearly two-thirds of the household’s had incomes below $10,000 a year. I truly believed that I was Hoodoo Brown the baddest black cowboy put on this earth at the time.

 I’d like to blame my insanity on my mother for buying me a six shooter gun and holster with real live bullets, when I was 6 years old. When my grandmother brought me a pair of batwing shotgun chaps and A. J. Tack triple cross cowboy spurs it was definitely on, like that old video game Donkey Kong.

I killed my first victim at the age of 7. I stole my daddies’ real gun and shot some spaced out looking heroin junkie trying to break into our apartment through the fire escape window. There was no better feeling in the world I felt when I seen him die with his eyes wide open with his boots off. Like a rite of passage, I thought. I got away with my first murder because no one could believe a 7 years old kid could have pull the trigger of such a big gun and shot that useless junkie right between the eyes. My mother knew better.

 It wasn’t until I turned 19 years old before I killed again. Unless you don’t count all the domestic animals I killed to perfect my new craft, just like the BTK killer. (Bind, Torture Kill). Shootem up and hangem high was my motto. I had to kill this punk because he wouldn’t refer to me as Hoodoo Brown. He used to mock me in front of my hood gang by calling me Doo-doo Brown. I shot him point blank in the face and had my boys throw him into a dumpster so that the garbage truck would take him and his foul mouth to the landfill dumpster were he truly belonged to begin with.

It wasn’t until I purposely killed the Cisco kid by hangin him from a street pole. He was from a rival gang for calling me a crazy sadistic murderer that I had to leave town on the lam. The tax paying citizens in Harlem could only take so much of the way my mind cleverly found different ways to kill my enemies. My best method was to place my victim into a 6 foot wired caged filled with 308 starving 2 pound river rats.

Throughout the northwest, especially Wyoming I killed over and over again until I whined up in Montana. I had even reached the lofty status of 7^th on the FBI’s most wanted list in America. That’s when I decided to change back to my real name Mike Brown.

I had just turned 21 years old and some days when I was finally captured.

I kept hearing that phrase free at last, free at last playing in my head over and over again by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. as I French kissed the ground, because somehow I was being released back into society. All I had to do was pretend to go to this halfway house in a place called Yellowstone Counseling Center located at 208 N 28th St Ste 423, Billings, MT 59101. (A halfway house is an institution that allows people with physical, mental, and emotional disabilities, or those with criminal backgrounds, to learn (or relearn) the necessary skills to re-integrate into society and better support and care for themselves).

The insistent letter the guard gave me typed in bold red said that I had to get there within 24 hours. They only give me $175 dollars as the institution bus driver drops me and this other crazy dude at the Greyhound bus stop. I know that he was crazy because throughout the 90 miles to get there. He kept singing in his off key baritone voice what you gonna do when the rabbit got the gun. I know what I would have done if I was the rabbit with the gun. I would have put that crazy dude out of his misery and did the world a big favor.

I followed him and the stuffed bunny rabbit animal he sang too into the bathroom at the Greyhound bus stop. Quickly I shoved him into one of them empty toilet stalls and snapped his neck and the stuffed bunny rabbit neck like a pretzel. I worked out every day just for this occasion.

I was feeling pretty good with myself as I went over to the sink to wash my hands. I didn’t see any handles. If it wasn’t for this guy coming in and just stuck his hand under the spout I just would have walked out with murdering dirty hands. Things had truly changed in my exile. Toilets flushing on there own and sinks running without you havin to turn any knobs.

I walk down the street and the first thing I see is a store that sold Western gear. I couldn’t believe my lucky eyes. When I walked in and seen the price of boots and spurs I knew I would need some more money.

It was about a little after 1pm when I was approached by one of the ugliest hooker God had put on earth. I wasn’t in search for no sex, even though I can’t remember having any in a long time. I needed some money to by me some western gear. She asked me if I had any money. I go into my pocket and clumsily pull out the $175 dollars the psyche place gives me. She tells me to put that away as she leads me down a garbage filled alley way. Suddenly two black midgets’ dudes come from behind a dumpster. I can’t help but to laugh. Didn’t they know that every freakin morning I practiced taekwondo from watching Bruce Lee in that movie Enter the Dragon. I grab the street walker by her hair, but it was a wig and she was a man. Then I grab him or her and slammed it into the shortest midget. I killed all three of them in 2 minutes and collected over $1,600 dollars between the three of them would be robbers. I nicely placed the three of them in the dumpster where they revealed themselves and slammed the lid. I still didn’t have enough money for the outfit I desired.

My former street senses were coming back to me as I headed further and deeper into town. It seemed like everyone I seen had trucks and then rifles racked inside the cab. I would break into one of those trucks after I get situated.

I rented a room at a cheap motel right in front of the lobby stood several prostitutes waiting to score on their next John. One look at me and they were licking their filthy chops. I took two of them to my room. Before they thought that they would rob me. I asked them where can we cop some good dope. Their sorry dope filled eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and it would be the last time they would ever open again. I choked the life out of the chubby chick. While slamming the dark skin chicks head into the bottom of the cast iron bathtub. I laid them both on top of each other in the tub and went out to get me some grub and a gun for the dope house I was going to rob early in the morning.

I found a McDonald and had to control myself with all the new food they had on display. I whined up buying $54 dollars’ worth of Grub.

I broke into a truck and relieved it of its rifle and bullets, on my way back to the motel room. I guess those two hooker weren’t even missed. I did go into the bathroom to make sure they were still there for some strange reason. To no one’s surprised they hadn’t moved an inch. I climbed onto the bed with my goodies and turned on the TV. There was an urgent bulletin that Billings Montana was beseeched with a potential serial killer. Residence should be aware and stay locked indoors if they could. I conjecture they found the bunny rabbit man and the three Amigos in the dumpster.

It ain’t gonna get no better when they discover hooker number one and two looking like they were just about to have sex with their clothes on lying on top of each other. I found a station with Bonanza showing.

At 3 am I got up to get me some Cowboy gear money. The dope house was as quiet as a church mouse. There was only one dude guarding all the money and dope on the table and he was nodding out. I put him in the sleeper hold and filled all the money with one of the pillowcase I brought along. It took me 45 seconds to do that job. I took the butt of the rifle and cracked dude upside his head for good measures. I loved the way it sounded when you crack a skull with a blunt instrument. No one in the filthy rat infested dope house heard a thing. I wiped off my fingerprints from the rifle and placed it in the corner of the living room and left by the front door. When I got back too the motel I counted out $42,000 dollars, right in front of them two dead whores.

I could hardly wait until that store opened in the morning. I paid the motel clerk another $50 dollars for another day and told him that I didn’t need anyone to clean up my room today. Just encase the jubilant guy forgot I placed the do not disturb sign on the doorknob.

While I was changing into my cowboy gear all I kept hearing about is the killings. I had a mind to kill some more people. But I knew I had to get out of town sundown Hoodoo Brown before they found them two worthless hookers in the tub. The entire outfit costed me over 3 grand of dope money.

While I was walking down the street looking like a rodeo clown. I couldn’t help but see all the attention I was receiving. I was like a celebrity I thought. It never dawned on me how ridiculous a black man wearing that western garb looked in Montana. I was headed back to the scene of the crime where I was captured. I had to kidnap someone first to take me there. I see this very old lady driving a fancy truck. When I got close to her she smelled like death already, so I passed on her.

This apparent racist white dude says. Hey, rodeo clown where you headed. I say I got 300 buckaroos it you could take me to the National Bison Range. Jump in boy he says. About halfway there he says he gotta make a stop. I say how about you stop so I can relieve myself first. He gives me a wicked smile and pulls over on the side of the rode and that’s where they would find him dead. I climb back into the truck and head for my place of refuge. I turn on his radio and hear escape insane killer Hoodoo Brown escaped from where he was being held at a psychiatric mental facility two days ago. Do not. I repeat said the radio man. I repeat do not try to capture him. I’m sitting there thinking to myself that I didn’t escape from nowhere they just released the wrong Mike Brown. There were two of us Mike Brown’s dwelling there.