Stories

Nazi Man 

 This story is completely from memory, so the details may not be all accurate.


A small drug connection and, perhaps what I might have called a friend (without lending much credibility to the word), once took me to a house in the neighborhood to buy a largish quantity of speed pills. I estimate two or three-hundred of them.

I remember approaching the house in the evening; with a big wad of stolen cash wedged in my sock and being told we needed to enter by the back, through the window. This required hopping a fair-size wooden fence, and crawling through a small basement window. Trying to recall why, it was most likely due to paranoia or shrewdness, or potential concern in alerting other members of the household. Perhaps it was parents. This is in fact Lachine I'm talking about.

I met a very tall man.
Other than that he was a Quebecois, tall, white, probably in his mid-to-late twenties and probably had brown hair, I haven't retained any other details.

I counted out the money, it was counted again in turn, and then my companion and I commenced the slightly tedious task of counting out all these pills individually. The man had weighed one, and then the whole lot, so this was to see check for discrepancies. I was tense, or I should say anxious and a little crazy, as I always was in those days. Having put myself in a position to be easily robbed, yet showing no signs of nervousness, smiling and making light conversation.

Among the chatter, the subject fell on this man's Nazi memorabilia collection. Something he was very proud of, and being the first time in his house, the items seemed like inevitable conversation pieces. In my opinion once you've collected more than one of such items, it has already become excessive, but there were many through-out the room we were in.  There may have been a Nazi flag on the wall, and there were some guns, and many knives laying around.

I saw a beautiful saber in it's scabbard with a swastika engraved in the hilt. Something about this Nazi stuff always seems to give me a mystical chill when I look at it, it seems unreal. There may be something to that, or maybe I just played too much Castle Wolfenstein as a child.

I asked the man bluntly. "So what, do you hate Jews or something?".

I told him I was Jewish.

He laughed and said, "No, I just hate niggers."


Soon after I left without issue, and never returned.


Some time later, I heard of a gun-sale gone awry, which resulted in what I remember was a non-fatal shooting a few blocks over. I saw my acquaintance for one reason or another around that time, and he told me it involved the man we'd gone to meet.

During the exchange, one of the buyers shot this man, who immediately and half-successfully attempted to plunge a knife into the assailant's skull. Neither went down, and I guess they weren't expecting this, so they fled his house with the stolen merchandise, with the man chasing close behind.

My acquaintance showed me blood-stains on the street illustrating the chase, and bloody hand-prints on a sign or two where one of them must have attempted to catch his breath while he was bleeding out.