Wall Street

This probably isn’t going to be a chapter in the book I’ve been writing. Simply because that book is designed to be fun, something a woman can rub one out to. The stories in this are not fun. This story is about people being abused. It all happened long enough ago that I can’t really testify to the details, so this should be considered a work of fiction. I am however telling it as I remember it. These are the people to whom you are paying your student loans, mortgages, credit card dept, etc.

A Young Black Woman

I met her at a bar. She was very drunk. She was about to go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit.

She explained that she was being paid several hundreds of thousands of dollars to take the fall for her boss, who had committed a massive financial scam, a scam big enough that it made national headlines. I wish I could remember which one, but there have been so many. She’s probably out of prison by now, hopefully with her couple hundred grand, but I will never know. All I will know is her crying into her drink.

Pizza

I used to live in the Tyrell building. No not the “Blade Runner” Tyrell building, the actual Tyrell building in Manhattan. You can see it in American Psycho, in the scene where Christian Bale’s character contemplates feeding a kiddy cat into an ATM with a Glock 9mm.

My favorite way to relax back then was to get a bottle of Grey Goose, a salad with a salmon fillet, and a vial of cocaine delivered to me. All of which were to be consumed on the roof of the Tyrell building as I watched the sun set behind the Statue of Liberty. Don’t think for a second that I didn’t have my vices. I did eat healthily at least. But these are the behaviors common to the people that rule this country.

There were at least three brothels on my street.

I don’t participate in prostitution, but I have no problem with it except that it’s illegal. Sex workers would be much better treated if it was not. You couldn’t really avoid it living off Wall St.

There was a pizza shop with an ATM at the back. On any given night you might need to go to the ATM. The problem was that it was a whore house. A pizza shop whore house.

When you walked back in there it was like a scene from Requiem for a Dream. Actually, not a scene, the scene. The one that involved someone demanding ass-to-ass. There was a bunch of bankers running a train on a pair of Hispanic prostitutes, every night. It was very awkward making an ATM transaction while watching two immigrant women get gangbanged by a bunch of bankers.

Old Men Fighting

Even though I know this is a dark piece I do want to leave it on a somewhat funny note. I’m not exactly sure how funny it will strike most people, but as these stories go it’s probably the funniest.

I was sitting at a bar right off of Wall St. and there were a bunch of bankers that were drinking, doing coke, and trying to get their fuck on. They were mostly in their 70s, and the women were mostly, maybe in their 20s and dressed like they were doing porn.

The old men were getting the girls drugged up in the bathroom. The girls had no problem accepting the cocaine. They did have a problem accepting 70 year old dick. They swarmed around the only guy there that was even remotely in their age range, maybe 40ish. This did not make the coked up old guys happy though.

At one point, two of the 70 year old dudes decided to get into a fist fight over the hookers. He wanted one, he didn’t want to share, and he was very high on cocaine. My former roommate and I just watched in stunned silence. Well, maybe not silence, more like we were doing a commentary on a WWE match.

“Did that asshole just grab the other old asshole and through him to the ground?”

“I believe he did.”

“Is that asshole literally choking another asshole about five feet from us.”

“They are.”

“Are these people really fighting over a bunch of prostitutes that will have nothing to do with them.”

“Yep.”

Chaos ensued. So, these are who the interest on your mortgages, credit cards, student loans go to.