After David Hojak had already traveled to, then been left in, the apartment he lived in with his ex-wife in Las Vegas, he’d never expect anything like it to happen again, least of all, the same way.
Yet………… it f##king did.
It was literally that easy. This one had the choice to claim ignorance, come up with a “story,” and then leave me in her apartment with my own risk of dying there alone. It was all so much more simple than doing it humanely, empathetically or sensitively… like a friend, or love interest, or even “f##k buddy” would do. Apparently. To her. Once Wife #1 bailed, contacts came further and fewer between. Of course, online associates joined occasional discussion frays. Yet, nights that included them, in any sense, became more seldom & random over time… further & fewer between, as I became less necessary to them. After the first divorce, which only came as a result of marrying a woman David Hojak met growing up, leaving Las Vegas was nowhere near as fun as the movie made it seem.
Losing my job via health issues with a company I’d relocated for saw my now-ex-wife leave me high-and-dry there. She hated the heat & loved her Lions… and as she became less comfortable, she became less loving. I can say with certainty that if my health hadn’t cost me my job, we’d still be in Nevada… & she’d still be locked in our bedroom stoning herself silly while claiming “depression,” Xbox controller in hand. Nonetheless, as soon as she abandoned David Hojak, traveling wasn’t the first thought-of option. Hojak had well-intended plans… yet, they all failed.
“Plan A,” at first, was to get licensed for life insurance sales brokering, then go right into making big money. Then, after days that saw “Feels Like” temperatures climb as high as 131º Fahrenheit… a day came when I passed-out while commuting home. The details of the accident I got into are still confusing to me. I woke up on a stretcher while being loaded into an ambulance, glimpsing at what was then/now my totaled vehicle.
I Think I Know the Answer… I Stumbled and All the World Fell Down
After the accident, a woman that I’d been in touch with began talking to me… about the accident, and other things. Eventually, she invited me to come “stay” with her. Recalling the unspoken childhood “crush” she had on David Hojak back then, I jumped at an invite to visit her back in California. Both of us were older, neither was impeded by commitment, and we were finally free to “explore” each other. I didn’t mind the added details of her now having children in her picture, if even awkwardly. My interests right then were her and I, then and there. It seemed like the happiest possible ending that could come of a miserable situation.
Man, was I mistaken, to say the least. She merely delayed the displacement, plagiarized her recollection of events leading up to my exit & doing her best to exhibit how petty and dishonest she is. The playing of the “poor me” card was definitely mentioned.
Night one: I met her kids (who were weird, to put it nicely)… and a woman who looked like her aunt. Though this b1tch frowned a lot, I tried hard to be nice. Her continual appeal was that she’d needed to get laid for three-quarters of a century… or that she wanted to see someone (or something) die by her own hands, then feast upon it urban cannibal-style. I quickly got the impression that her “sister” was going out of her way to not speak English within range of me. So, I purposefully used collegiate-level English words to leave her confused with what I’d said… in a language they absolutely understood. If not less educated, I knew it made them feel less “American,” and I was fine with that. Considering how they were probably speaking about me in their language, I considered it fair play. In totality, the elder made them summarily uglier than me. They were racist, and I was smarter. Plus I was taking one of them home, where I’d make that one wet her bed (literally) over & over & over again.
Night two: we went out to dinner at a steak house she favored, and she prettied-up all nice for me… like her dress wasn’t going to hit her bedroom floor the very instant we got back to her place. It hadn’t been long enough, or anything… only about three decades by then. By the time we got back to her place and the children were “situated,” we got right to it. Her and I had literally been waiting to go at each other, minus clothes, since adolescence. I won’t get too graphic about the happenings of our evenings here. In my book, I’ll be happy to share more detail. For now, all you get is this… for nearly three months, she was as satisfied as a child in an amusement park candy store… lollipop & all, fresh off the “rollercoaster”… with plenty of abrupt “hydration.”
… until the day came, and I “malfunctioned” on her watch.
On the Plus and Minus, it’s a Zero Chance of Ever Turning This Around
That day, about three months into the distribution of nightly Hojak Shaft©, “water works” and all… she caught a glimpse of my health condition & flat-out vanished. She saw me in that altered, neurological state (cerebral vulnerability, no psychological awareness of where/what I was, or who I was with)… and so suddenly, who I was to her didn’t matter anymore.
Our history of knowing each other instantly became meaninglessly expendable to her. She and her children vanished. She left me to die alone in her apartment. I was left there for three days, immediately following a medical emergency. Instantaneously after such a health crisis, I was as expendable as expired milk. Eventually, she, and people like her, will be seen by the world for who they really are. Things like this will leave no one wanting to be anywhere near them. Then again, she does have huge breasts… so there’s a possibility they’ll be tolerant for as long as it takes to “score.” A night apparently came where her child said something to me, and I responded while amidst my seizure in a way that made her uncomfortable. Rather than look out for me after an epileptic incident, which I told her had nearly killed me before, she took her kids & bounced. Then, she fabricated a story to make the police come and remove me from her home. I know, I know… all class.
Three days had gone by of me waiting for her to call or return home, after my medical “emergency.” On the night of day three, two officers showed up at her door. I answered it, they verified my identity, and I was given 20 minutes to gather my belongings, vacating the premises. Now keep in mind, I’d just had a neurological emergency of sorts. I hadn’t been to a hospital thereafter, gotten any medical attention post-episode… or even gotten assistance with a 911 call at any point. After knowing each other since our teens, my own medical emergency meant absolutely nothing to her.
She was a high school fantasy at one point in life to me, a teenage crush. Now as adults, that b1tch didn’t care if I lived or died, as long as she got d1ck & got off. She was ultimately as dependable as a chocolate teapot, with the honest word of a mime. Before my very eyes, the illusion of a reliable, trustworthy woman absolutely evaporated. Suddenly and out of nowhere, she was the anti-reflection of everything honest that she’d “sold” herself as…… both within, and throughout. Given her ethics, it was hard for me to believe that she was even authorized to reproduce in this country.
Then again, this is America…… land of the fee, home of the slave.
Crying Long Upon the Loss I’ve Found
Before I knew it, I beheld my packed & filled roll-away luggage bag… full of all that I owned, at that point. I hit the streets for the first time in my life. Soon after being out there, I called an uncle… a linearly & geographically distanced relative who was, at that time, willing to help me. Soon after, he’d go on to medically desert me, just like the woman did… but on a more personal, “part of the family” basis, which hurt even more. Again, another story for another time.
People like her will continue to make lives difficult for those whose eyes wander too hopefully, too eagerly. It’s unlikely that she’ll ever find *TRUE* satisfaction, no matter how far she treks. Those like that have empty hearts, shallow minds and simple thought-processes… and on top of that, they don’t take care of themselves, so they die early. Now, you don’t want that, do ya?!??!?!?! Come on. You can do better.
So can I, and I have. Ultimately, those who deserve it shall indeed reap what they’ve sown, however ineptly. Their type won’t evade “fate” forever. I am grateful to those who’ve helped me… were it not for them, my story’s happy-ending wouldn’t be possible. Yet, the way those few who abandoned me did so in some cases, in some of my darkest hours… as I depended upon them… is absolutely unforgivable. I almost lost my life in some cases. By design, I will be geographically long gone and far beyond their radar’s scope when fate befalls them. Karma really does happen.
“Cracked like a cat with my head in a sack, and I feel like I’m tied to a railroad track… all your fears are lies.”
~Chris Cornell
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