The Day Mike Gets Shot

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Now, my mom reads this blog. So this entry might be kind of weird because this is one the stories she definitely never heard. This was one of those never tell anyone type of stories for quite some time. But, several people have asked for it and I will deliver and if anything, there’s a lesson to be learned here. Don’t be an idiot.

In my January 19th posting entitled “Origin” I wrote:

“The lackluster response of the new EP combined with the not-so-good Moose the Movie, our friend Mike getting shot in the neck and G and I allegedly playing strip poker with Brian’s ex-girlfriend and her DOPE best friend, R.A.I.L. broke up and The Moose went back to the closet.”

Several people have written me emails asking if the whole Mike getting shot thing was a joke. No, it wasn’t. This is one of those Brooklyn stories. Brooklyn stories are the stories you tell when a friend asks, “So you’re from New York? What’s the worst thing you ever seen.” This is the story I tell. In no way is it representative of New York, shit like this happens once, but it’s the story they want to hear when they ask that question.

The end of our first year in college, we are all home for the summer, my whole crew. One night, a bunch of the guys get together for a night of drinking and shooting the shit about college. This guy Mike was there, the cousin of our friend Jimmy. Mike and his friend went out to some bar at around 11 or so and said they would come back later.

It’s now about 2AM. We’re all feeling pretty good and we know Mike is coming home soon. We decide to set up a “Home Alone House” complete with trip wires, greased doorknobs, stuff to step on – nothing to really injure but enough to make people laugh.

We all pretend to go to sleep. I’m lying on a sofa to the left of the entryway, giggling like a maniac when the doorbell rings. Ciro grabs a squirt bottle and the fun is about to begin.

Ciro squirts some water out of this peep-hole like thing in the door. We hear “FUCK!”

He opens the door. In comes Mike, his friend and his friend’s brother (whom we never met before then). His friend’s brother is pissed-off, screaming, “Who the fuck spit in my face?” I’m still giggling my ass off until I look up and dangling right above my face is a fucking pistol.

The laughter stops really quick when the friend’s brother starts waving that shit around.

Mike’s friend calms his drunken brother down and gets the gun off of him, tells him to chill out. The brother goes into the kitchen to cool off. I tell the friend to take the bullets out of the gun now and he agrees that it’s probably a good idea. Everyone goes upstairs and hangs in Jimmy’s parent’s room while the friend tends to his brother downstairs.

The friend comes up. Tells us his brother is leaving, he gave him the gun back but it’s not loaded. We all breathe a sigh of relief.

Then the brother comes upstairs.

“I need some bullets, I had beef with some guy at the bar and he might be after me.”

We all smile, there’s no way in fuck this asshole is getting his bullets back.


The friend hands his brother the bullets. Here’s where the story diverges from my version and what I heard happened. You see, as soon as the friend reached into his pocket I decided this would be a GREAT time to take that shit that’s been backing up. So I go down stairs, sit on the bowl and I’m pretty sure I start crying.


I don’t fucking move. I hear people running, screaming, doors slamming shut and I sit on that bowl and take a shit.

Finally I come out and it’s the most surreal thing ever. I walk up the stairs and the brother is sitting on the toilet bowl, head in his hand and crying. Sitting on the sink is Mike, a towel to his neck. “What the fuck happened?” I asked him. He pulls the towel away. The fucking bullet went right through the right side of his neck, in the front and out the back. I was offset from the jugular, more of a skim pass the muscle but there was a chunk of flesh missing from Mike’s neck. A couple of inches over to the left and he was dead.

Brian tells me that this is “delicate”. It was an accident, the brother went cowboy and spun the gun on his finger. It went off and clipped Mike. Apparently the brother had some mafia connections (which was probably bullshit) and we can’t tell anyone about this. He was going to drive Mike to a friend that was going to “patch him up”. RJ, G and Ciro were gone, they ran out. G was my ride.

I go outside and they’re all in G’s car waiting for me. They rush me in and we drive off. RJ, who was standing right next to Mike when it all happened, said that the crazy fuck did not spin any gun. He raised it and fired without blinking an eye.

And that’s what happened the night Mike got shot.

Interesting side note, Mike needed to tell his parents something. He was all bandaged up on his neck. He told them a stick went through his neck while playing football. And they believed it.

If that was my parents…woah boy.

read a book, fanboy: Song of Solomon

turn off the metallica, fanboy: Black Star


posted by Jason at 11 Comments


Blogger hooray said...

He twirled it, then aimed it. Then Mike has a hole in his neck, and turned into Powder. And on a side note - G, Ciro, and I didnt bail on you. We went looking for your punk ass. We thought you ran out as soon as you saw the idiot with the gun. We didnt know you were praying in the bathroom.

Tis a flesh wound.

11:51 PM  
Blogger Jason said...

You would know better than I would what happened. I was busy proving my masculinity on the bowl.

10:07 AM  
Blogger Gennaro said...

I was just looking for another bowl so I wouldnt shit my pants!

10:40 AM  
Blogger Gennaro said...

"G and I allegedly playing strip poker with Brian’s ex-girlfriend and her DOPE best friend" ... what was that girls name and where can I find her now do you think? I rmember when face with the option of taking off her bra or her panties, she proudly stood up took of her panties and threw one leg up on the bed. Once again ... I was looking for another bowl!

10:46 AM  
Blogger Jason said...

G - I still dream about that girl.

She was so dope. Brian's ex-girl was dope (won't drop names) and this girl was ten times doper.

That was the best night of my life.

Especially when she sat on the bed, buck-naked, and admitted that her boyfriend can't give her an orgasm.

11:07 AM  
Blogger Graymalkin Lane said...

Okay... this is a great story. Something should and must be done with this.

7:46 PM  
Blogger Jason said...

Gray -
I thought about it. If I'm ever going to do a true story about something in my life though it would probably be about Junior High School or the number 423.

JHS is funny because it was 95% black/latino and 5% white. I just happened to be a latino that looks white. So I would show people my ID in an attempt not to get jumped. Believe me, JHS stories will come out eventually on this blog.

423 is fucked up. It is my most fucked up story. No one believes it ever and the people that do believe it never believe the whole thing. I tried turning that story into a play, a novel and a comic. It's hard to translate how fucked up it is. I think I tell it verbally better than paper, usually because I start shaking when I tell it.

8:41 PM  
Blogger Ciro Monaco Jr. said...

I remember dragging G out of the bathroom while he was taking a shit after RJ and I watched Mike get shot. We couldn't find your ass. Thought you already bailed.

By the way, you look like you lost a lotta weight, ya fet bested.

9:41 PM  
Blogger Jason said...

God damn. G, RJ and Ciro chime in. What the fuck.

At least now we get the whole story.

And I did lose a lot of weight, who's the fet bastard now?

11:17 PM  
Blogger Jorge Vega said...

"It's hard to translate how fucked up it is. I think I tell it verbally better than paper..."

Hey, you've got a couple of audio moments posted already. Why not spit the 423 story into a mike and drop it on the blog's b-side?

7:15 AM  
Blogger Jason said...

Jorge -
Possibly - either way that story won't ve told until April 23rd.

Yeah, I have a schedule. But only for certain stories.

7:50 AM  

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