true story: As you may already know from my other blog, I used to always hang out at the mall when I was in the sixth grade. There was this guy that used to hang out there too named Otto. He was my self-proclaimed godfather. He liked to think of himself as having big ties with crime. He bought me anything and everything I wanted. According to his stories, his own mother had some kind of contract on him to get killed by the Mafia. He was 17 years old. Already way too old to be hanging out at the mall, but whatever. He had the most crazy fashion. Everything that he wore was worth at least 200 dollars. Everything was Gucci. That was his brand that he liked: Gucci. And he had this silly looking Culture Club kind of a hat that costed him more than a hundred dollars. Oh yeah, and he would always go around with a fancy suitcase handcuffed to his wrist. I'm sure we looked hilarious together, but for months we were inseparable. Well, during the week, I would lead my "normal" sixth grade life, going to school and all that, but once I got off on Friday, I would go and find Otto and we'ld hang out until Sunday evening when I would go home to go to sleep to get ready for school the next day. Yeah, I never found out what was in that suitcase either. And then there was this guy, Lee something-or-another and he would always follow Otto around. Lee was Otto's bodyguard. He would always wear a trench coat, and he had a real gun in the trench coat that he let me carry sometimes. I've always loved the feel of a gun against my dick, even back then. Otto needed Lee because of the Mafia thing. They wanted to kill him. Otto had a gun too, and he would let me carry his too. It was fun to be at the mall in public with the idea that I could kill somebody if I wanted to. And I don't know how he had money, but he sure did. Shitloads of it. I think I assumed that he got it from all of the girls that he would see. He was a total gigolo. Oh, and Otto squatted in this abandoned office building that was nearby the mall. He had this window that he had knocked out. We'ld go through there, and then go up the elevator to the 6th floor or something, and he had a bedroom set up in a totally random room. He had sleeping bags in there and we would hang out laying around, smoking cigarettes and talking until going to sleep. Sometimes, we would run around the building breaking shit. It was fun because at one point, you could tell the building was fancy, but now we were fucking it all up. It kind of makes me understand violent people, but not really. One time, we were hanging out with these two punk rocker girls on a Sunday. They were really cute. 14 or 15 years old. I don't remember much about them except one had these tights with hammers and sickles all over it. Anyway, me and these girls decided that we were going to go and spend the night in the abandoned office building and skip school the next day. I think they liked Otto. All girls liked Otto. He was hot I suppose. I don't even remember what he looks like if you can believe it. Anyway, one of the girls went off with Otto and slept in a separate room. The other girl slept in the same room with me. I don't remember if we kissed or not. Probably not, it seems like I would've remembered that and plus she was a little too old for me, not like I would've minded though. Anyway, the next day, we wake up in the morning, smoke cigarettes because we thought we were cool, and after a while we hear her friend screaming and yelling. We jump up, run to the room. We try to open the door, but it's locked. She's screaming, "HELP ME!!!!!! HELP ME!!!!!!" We were completely freaked out. We didn't know what to do. We go to the adjacent room and start trying to kick through the wall with our combat boots. It was hard but we finally started to be able to see into the other room. Otto sees us, and stops. He calmly stands up and pulls his pants up. He goes over, unlocks the door, and walks out. Me and the other girl run into the room, relieved to see that the girl was still fully clothed. Her communist tights were still in touch. Apparently, we had interrupted it in time, thank gosh. From there, we went and got breakfast at IHOP and then went to the mall, where we all decided to just go home. Otto's attempted rape had kind of sullied our fun-filled day, you might say. I don't know why I continued to hang out with him after that, but I did. Maybe I was too young to understand how evil rape is. Now, I think it's worse than murder. Anyway, another night, me and Otto were at the Galleria. It was a Saturday night and we had nothing at all to do. We couldn't find anybody we knew. All of the shops started closing, and finally the security guards kicked us out. We were standing in the parking lot trying to figure out what to do, when this couple in a truck waves us over. It was a hispanic couple, and they were dressed up to go to a fancy ball or something, the woman in a puffy shiny gown, and the man in a blue tuxedo. They were sitting in this truck smoking a joint and they wanted to know if we wanted some. "Sure," we said and began taking turns consuming this "marijuana cigarette" It was rolled with a U.S. flag paper which I thought was totally awesome at the time. Come to think of it, I still think it's totally awesome. And here's the kicker: according to what they said they were personal assistants to Marvin Zindler. He was having a party on the top floor of one of the hotels that was part of the mall, and they were there to help out Wow, they were the personal assistants to Marvin Zindler and they were out in the parking lot getting an eleven-year-old boy stoned. That's pretty cool, huh? Oh, if you're not form Houston and you've never seen the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Marvin Zindler is the blue-haired moron who got the famous brothel in La Grange closed down. What a dick. Also, he's been a famous TV personality in Houston for decades. He does this part of the "eyewitness" news where he goes and inspects restaurants for "SLIME IN THE ICE MACHINE!!!!!!" If you're from Houston, you're probably cracking up right now because you remember this guy. He has this weird look too. I don't remember exactly what it is. I think he has blue hair and pink tinted glasses or something. If you remember please leave me a comment. So, anyway this U.S. flag got me so stoned. I swear to god it was laced with something. I couldn't see straight at all, and I remember I had this intense feeling that buzzards were swirling up above my head waiting for me to die. At that age, I was already smoking pot on a regular basis and that had never happened to me. I remember a security guard came up because he wanted to know what we were up to, but as soon as he saw the fancy people with the badges for Marvin Zindler's party he left us alone. Finally we left them, and we went to go to our IHOP to eat. I couldn't believe Otto wanted to eat, but apparently the joint didn't have such a toxic effect on him as it did with me. We sat down and looked at the menus. I couldn't see a thing. All of the letters seemed to be swimming around on the paper. Otto kept on insisting that I order something, but I couldn't see and was even more doubtful that I would be able to eat anything. He kept on bugging me to order, so finally I just stuck my finger randomly on the page, and said, "I want this one." And that's what he ordered me. I totally passed the fuck out, and was sleeping hard, real hard, when Otto wakes me up, "Puree, Puree, wake up. The food is here." I look over at the waitress bringing the food. an old, white lady. I was looking down at the food as she was setting it down in front of me when I proceeded to vomit my brains out all of the plate with her hand still on it. The throw up got all over me. It got all over her, and of course the food that I had ordered that I didn't want was completely saturated in it. At least now, Otto wasn't going to try to pressure me into eating it. The lady was disgusted of course. She ran back to the kitchen with the throw up plate, and I ran to the bathroom to puke more and try to clean myself up. When I came out, the throw up was pretty much entirely gone. Otto was totally pissed. He made me go sit outside to wait for him "in case I had to throw up some more". You couldn't blame him. He was trying to eat. He didn't want to see me vomiting anymore. When we went back to the office building. Somebody had boarded up our window, and there was a security guard's car parked in the front. We went into the parking garage, where Otto knew this bum that slept in there. The bum wasn't there. But, his "bed" was. The "bed" was a big rolled up piece of carpet. Otto had me get in there. "Where are you going to sleep though?" I asked him. "Don't worry about it. I'm not sleeping tonight. I'll just make sure nothing happens to you." I got in the carpet and it was absolutely awful. It was the worse smell I had ever smelt in my whole life. Somebody had done some very, very nasty things all over that carpet. I've smelt some worse things since then though, but at that point in my life, it was the worse thing that I had ever smelt. just awful, and I had to sleep in it which I did since I was so fucked up. The next morning when I woke up, there was Otto. He was sitting on a bucket and smoking a cigarette, wide awake like he had said. "Did you sleep good?" he asked. "OK, I guess." We went to the mall, ate, and walked around smoking cigarettes and looking at girls. I went home a few hours later and immediately went to sleep. I saw Otto the next weekend at the mall, but he was with this girl and they didn't want me following them around, so they gave me a ride home in the girl's car. She was cute. I was assuming that she was giving him money and taking care of him and she didn't want to do the same for me. That was the last time I saw Otto for months and months. I had no idea where he had gone to. He had simply vanished. Everybody thought that I knew where he was and wasn't saying anything. That wasn't the case. I had no idea. I was figuring that that girl knew but I had no idea who she was nor how to get in touch with her. And then, about four months later, he showed back up at the Galleria. He had his suitcase handcuffed to his wrist and get this, . . . he was wearing an eye patch. Yeah, that's right. You heard me. He was wearing a fucking eye patch. He claimed that he had moved to Chicago and had started a punk band that he sang for. While playing a show, somebody for no particular reason, jumped on stage, and stabbed him in the eye. That was according to him. I didn't believe a word of. I wanted him to show me it underneath the patch, but he wouldn't. "Trust me. you wouldn't want to see this." "Yeah right." I thought to myself. We hung out for a couple of hours and then he left. He had to go meet a friend or something. I don't quite remember. That was the last time I ever saw him. And then, about a month later, I showed up at the Galleria on Friday evening alone, and everybody was all talking about what happened to Otto. They were all surprised that I didn't know anything about it because it was all over the news, and more than that, I was his godson for gosh sakes, . . . : OTTO WAS IN JAIL BECAUSE HE HAD SHOT AND KILLED THE FIESTA AD-MAN Just in case you don't know, Fiesta is a chain of grocery stores in Texas that mainly caters to people from Latin America. And the Fiesta ad-man was a local celebrity who would always be on the advertisements. "Cuatro manzanas por un dolar." he would say and so on "Tres libras de platanos por noventa-nueve centavos!!!!" Not very exciting, but you get my drift. He was famous. At least in Houston, he was famous. Apparently according to the media, Otto was a male prostitute. I had no idea. Otto and the Fiesta ad-man had had sex, the Fiesta ad-man refused to pay him, so Otto shot him in the head, killing him. That night, I went home and watched the news. It was the leading story. They showed pictures of Otto with his name, not Otto, something like Steven Adams or something boring like that, not as cool as Otto. And he was 19, not 17 like he said. He ended up getting a pretty hefty prison sentence. I was wondering if he was still in there. Do you know? Is my godfather still in prison? I wanna know because I want him back. I don't care if he's a whore. I have a few things that I want him to keep for me in his suitcase handcuffed to his wrist.