The Break-in

When I was living in my nice condo in Las Vegas I was doing quite well taking care of myself, and if I didn’t do a good job, the three women who lived in  our four-plex babied and mothered me, so life was good.

I had this girl I met at the Sahara come home with me one night, and she ended up staying for the better part of a month. She didn’t work there, no. She was just another lost soul drifting through the banks of neon machines belching coins through clouds of cigarette smoke and overage cocktail waitresses with everything they had on display keeping the alcohol flowing.

Absolutely bat-shit crazy, Sassy was an amazing nymphomaniac who I became very close with.

Very close.

Often.

How crazy?

Her “thing” was to have me break in to my own condo and take her by force.

Yeah, kinky like that.

I had no keys and no way of getting into my own place.

I had to break in.

So what did me, the Catholic boy end up doing?

Exactly.

Weird, but fun.

Until this one night.

In previous “break-ins” it was pretty simple. I would find a window to pry or slide open and gain entry, not always quietly. It kinda freaked me out because she was totally into the whole play-acting thing, and her whole demeanor and even the timbre of her voice would change as she barked orders to me, the more-than-willing participant.

She was a different person.

Kinda freaked me out; kinda turned me on.

So, this night proved costly in more ways than one.

I could not find entry into my condo, and the “turn-on” factor was starting to wane, so just as I was going to break cover and call her to end the silly game and let me in, I thought I found a way in through a sliding glass patio door. I was trying to use my immense power to loosen the lock when my grip gave way and I cut the living shit out of my hand.

I’m bleeding all over the fucking place.

I’m thinking enough is enough, so I dialed Sassy’s cell phone which I soon learned had been slipped into my coat pocket, thank you very much.

I looked at the sliding glass door one last time before deciding the replacement cost would be worth it and I kicked in the glass: my door now in pieces all over the kitchen floor.

I take my stairs two at a time up to the bedroom and the craziest woman in a city of crazy women.

I bust the door open, blood spewing all over my door and carpet and now I can hear police sirens.

Coming down my street.

Before I could say one word, Sassy shouts “Quick! Isn’t this hot? I called the cops!”

I was numb.

Soulmate or cellmate?

Long story short, I was able to avoid incarceration (that time) and I really would have liked to see Sassy again.

Maddogg still holds the record for the greatest two-minute drill under pressure in history.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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