Breaking Real Bad.

You’re a swashbuckling entrepreneur in LA, with multiple projects in Hollywood. You have a great family, a fabulous fiance who you’re getting married to in 3 months, best buddy for housemate, and an awesome bunch of friends. You’re the king. Of course with such a life comes a certain lifestyle. You’re no stranger to the parties, the clubs, the party drugs, and such. Being an entrepreneur, you have a business idea. Get some of these harmless party drugs made at home, you make sure it’s purer, and in the run make a killing for yourself. So you call for 100 grams of a certain component from China, which helps you cook. You’re thinking, it’s possible, from 25 mill a year, you could be doubling profits next year.

You could buy a new mclaren, a house overlooking hollywood hills, hang with leo dicaprio more often.

Except one sunny day a week after mailing your new business partners in China for stock, you’re trekking uphill, when your housemate calls. And you sit down, and you don’t say a word for what seems like eternity. Two and a half minutes down, you’re sweating more from the call, than from the trek.

The black suits have broken into your house and held your best buddy against the wall with the barrel of a gun to the side of his head. A dozen black suits strip your apartment from head to toe. Your laptops, ipads, hard drives, pen drives, and every other device of communication has been gathered, in a matter of a hundred and twenty seconds, and they disappear like it never happened. Except the house looks like there was a forty eight hour rave in there.


You can’t go back home. You can’t talk to family. You can’t talk to your fiance. If they hunt you down, it’s 15 years of sharing a shower with 100 hardcore inmates. They’re spying on everyone you know. Even this call is being traced. You destroy the phone right there. You can never talk your mother again, or your girl, or your best friends. You can’t even say bye to anybody. Hell, you can’t even tell the girl the wedding’s got to be called off. You have to leave the land immediately, as quietly as possible. Must get out of the borders. You run. But where do you run…

New name, new town, new job, new friends, new clothes, new papers, new passport.

Imagine a forced reincarnation in the same life. Imagine sharing a beer with this guy.


About johnny b

dj, writer, traveler, moonwalker, headbanger, mind expander, yoga instructor. View all posts by johnny b

2 responses to “Breaking Real Bad.

  • aaliyah

    Thats why universe is so kind to us, to take out all memory with each new incarnation. I imagine turmoil this guy is going thru. i guess thats the price he has to pay for luxuries he had. Or maybe past lifetime debts…

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