When I was a drug dealer out there, one of the worst things you could ever do to me was try to rip me off or shine me on when it was time to pay for your dope. After all, the way I always looked at it was … friends were friends, business was business. Supply and demand were the name of the game. If I supplied you with drugs, then I demanded to be paid. If you told me you were going to do something, then I thoroughly expected you to do keep your word. All you had to do was stick to the original agreement and all would be okay. But if you didn’t, you were subject to run into someone you really didn’t want to meet. And that someone was known as “Captain Madness!” To this day, many have yet to forget his name.

Captain Madness was one of my alter-egos. Not to say I particular liked him per say. Yet sometimes he was a necessary evil in that line of work. In the dope game you can’t let anyone run over you. You can’t let people burn you and you damn sure can’t show any signs of weakness, because if you do’ and word gets around you’re easy, assholes will literally come out of the woodwork to try and fuck you over. Fueled by greed, sheer ignorance and sometimes cocaine, Captain Madness had a look in his eye that let even the bravest, most arrogant rip-off know it was time to pay the Devil his due. If you owed money and you were just trying to be slick and not pay? Uh-uh. That didn’t work. If you played you paid. Give up what you owe or be on the business end of Captain Madness’ fists or pistol. Pretty easy to understand really. Do the right thing and there wouldn’t be any problem.

One fine day in America’s subculture, Captain Madness was all coked up and for some reason or another, he kept brooding on one certain individual who thought he could act stupid. Owing thirty-five hundred for three ounces of speed, the Wild Wild West knew he had to pay. At first, he said he would. Then, for reasons unknown to the rational thinking person, West decided he was not going to pay no matter what. Apparently he’d grown nuts and said to himself, “Fuck Captain Mad­ness! What was he going to do?” “Got my money West?” came the Cap’ straight and to the point. “No! And you ain’t mad!” replied West, who thought because he had a little pocketknife in his hand he could do so. That’s when Captain Madness calmly but quickly reached out grabbing West’s throat with his right hand and his nuts with his left, squeezing both just hard enough to let him know.

West paid the money. Escorted to the bank with a .380 Beretta jammed into his balls, he gladly withdrew cashola from his savings account. Years later, when running into West in the county jail, he admitted to seeing the Devil that day. Said there was something in the Captain’s eyes that let him know he would have been a eunuch if he didn’t come off the money he owed. And, he’d had a pretty mean grip. “No hard feelings,” he made sure to say. “I don’t want no trouble. I liked my gonads then and I still like ‘em now. No need for violence.” “It’s all good West. Come see me when we both get out of jail. I’ll be glad to front you a couple more ounces of speed,” chuckled Captain Madness kicking back on his steel bunk reading a Louis Lamour but carefully watching West out of the corner of one eye.

Then there was the unfortunate case of Brett and Cindy.(See previous blog titled the same). They got a taste of Captain Madness’ medicine one night. That was one time when the Captain didn’t get his money, but both husband and wife got what they deserved via brass knuckles and a baseball bat. An incident involving treachery and deception. Cindy thought she could get away with lifting a man’s wallet containing quite a bit of cash. But in the end, suffered the consequences and now has four little knotched-out scars on her once pretty little face. All due to blatant disrespect and thievery. She probably wouldn’t have got punched. But she lashed out FIRST on top of stealing the money and betraying once so-called friends who’d been good to her and her old man. Yeah, that night, Brett and Cindy both found out that old Captain Madness just don’t play.

You know, there were others that didn’t purposely mean to rip Captain Madness off. Like a friend who’d been fronted cocaine who thoroughly intended to sell his part and pay the piper what he owed. But, being a smoker, he wound up free-basing too much and in the end couldn’t pay his due. Those kind of people can sometimes be excused. They didn’t purposely mean to do Captain Madness wrong. And too, Captain Madness, being a notorious coke smoker himself, seemed to under­stand. But then there were others. The worst of the worst, those who maliciously premeditatedly planned to burn him from jump. Take dope on the front and never for a single moment intended to pay. A guy or girl who’d lie through their teeth telling Captain Madness anything he wanted to hear just so long as the end result meant leaving with the drugs. Hauling ass to party, never in a million years meaning to pay.

12 pounds of pot, a digi, and cold, hard American Cash

Willy Bones was one of those kind of people. Slick Willy, as they called him, took fifteen pounds of weed from the Captain promising he would be back in one hour to pay. All he had to do was meet the buyer at a motel room across town, all prearranged, and he’d be right back with the cash. Didn’t happen. Willy shot out for Tulsa and wasn’t seen again for a solid year. Thought he’d gotten away with it. Until by accident he got cornered at the Red Carpet Lounge by the Captain and two of his friends. It was a bad, bad weekend for Willy Bones there­after. Before it was all said and done, everything in Willy’s house was hauled off in a Ryder rental, he had two black eyes and a broken nose, and was dropped off butt naked at Riverside Park’s Oktoberfest where he was arrested for indecent exposure. Oh well, shit happens. I’m Tripper, aka “Captain Madness!” Better Days!