So, I was now down a band and short a girlfriend. Basically the only things I cared about. Pissed off, I stormed out of the house and down to the local pub. There was the usual crowd of old drunks and kids watching the soccer games. Oh, excuse me, the football games. I walked up to the bar. The bartender looked at me strangely for a second, but then caught himself.
What can I get you? he asked.
Newcastle Brown, please.
I plunked down the cash and slumped into a seat. I then noticed a couple of kids at the snooker table in the corner. I walked over and tried to strike up a match.
Guys want a game? Five quid sound good?
Sure, we'll kick your ass.
They could tell I was a drunk.
Y'know how to play?
Of course I f--king know how to play. Come on, rack em.
The game buzzed by with them kicking my ass ruthlessly. I sadly handed over the fiver and walked out. Then I realized that I had my knife with me. I waltzed up to one of them, the shorter one. He was about 5'6 and probably weighed around 150 pounds.
Hey kid, double or nothin'?
Nah, I just did it for fun, chill out.
Look asshole, I'm havin' a bad day. Don't want any trouble do ya?
We won that fair and square, piss off.
I pulled the knife and lunged at the kid. The other one, the taller, skinnier one, who must've been walking back from the bathroom bolted towards me and tackled me, sending the knife hurtling one way, and myself the other. The bartender reached for a phone behind the bar and called the police. Meanwhile, the taller kid held me down.
What the hell do you think you're doing? He asked in a calm, fierce tone.
I bet your friend double or nothin' and he pussied out.
Gimme a break, five quid? You're fighting over that?
The cops pulled up and busted in. They cuffed and frog marched me all the way to the cruiser.
What's yer name?
Ey, look at this one. Quite original, eh John?
Yea, how creative.
Look kid, let's just get this over with, what's your name?
Alright, get in the back.
They tossed me into the back and started the car. The ride took a couple of minutes. They pulled to the back of the station and checked me into the system. But that's when I realized something very, very bad. I was technically illegal in England.
And they realized this too.
Uh, Mr. Crise?
You do know that you're a illegal in this country right now, correct?
No, I didn't, I lied.
Well, we're going to havta send you back to America. Where do you live?
My face turned white. The squat was illegal. If I told them, it would be raided and they'd find the marijuana Schultz had been growing. And everyone would get kicked out. But I was already screwed enough as is. If I lied and they found out (which they would) I'd be in even bigger trouble. So I swallowed hard and did what I had to do to save my ass.
31 Bainrun Avenue.
I thought that place was closed.
No, it's a squat.
Their eyes lit up. Suddenly, the person at the desk started talking on their radio. One of the officers walked up to me.
Get in the car.
I followed him. The drive seemed to drag on forever, although it couldn't have been longer than half an hour. When we got there, cops had already busted down the door and were raiding the place. They were marching everyone out and dragging out everything they could get their hands on. Nikki saw me and immediately started bitching.
Oi! What the hell did you do?
I got arrested. I looked away.
So now they're raiding our squat?! You douche!
Alright guys, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Who's growing the cannabis?
Schultz stepped forward.
I am, sir.
Come with me.
While everyone else was herded into cruisers, Schultz had to stay behind to talk with the remaining officers. I was put into a separate car and taken back to the station.
Mr. Crise, we're sending you back tomorrow. You will be brought back to the squat in one hour to collect your possessions. They will be checked when you get back. Then you will leave on the first plane tomorrow. Do you understand?
My heart sunk, but I nodded.
An hour later I was herded into an unmarked car and taken to the squat. It was totally ripped apart now, all of our belongings were outside and the guys were nowhere to be found. I walked through the rows of junk we had managed to collect. I found my guitar, another pair of jeans and a pair of bondage pants. I collected them and was walked back to the car. As soon as I got to the station I was sent to a holding cell while they searched my stuff. Today sucked.