So Help Me God

So Help Me God
by komrade komura
Yeah I wrote this shit. Blame no one else


The motion detectors turned on the lights. Less than a second later and the dog started barking. I got out of bed and looked. Jimmy was standing on the back patio next to the barbeque grill. His arm was raised shielding his eyes from the sudden bright light. His t-shirt was torn at the right shoulder and there was blood on the blue legs of his jeans. I grabbed the blue, plaid bathrobe I hate and put it on.


“Jimmy! ‘What the fuck are you doing,” I said from inside the bedroom as I opened the sliding glass patio door. Motioned him inside. He walked into the bedroom.


“Man I fucked up big time and need your help,” he said something like that. He was moving back and forth from side to side as if he were expecting the hand of god to strike him down at any moment and he needed to be coiled like a rattlesnake ready to move in an instant. Jimmy was usually Mr. Calm, this was opposite Jimmy. This is the guy I have known since grammar school. The guy who has talked more panties onto the bedroom floor than anyone I will ever know. His confidence and good looks introduced him to their hearts. But his intense concentration on them and nothing else melted their hearts.


‘What happened,’ I asked.


‘Can’t tell you, can’t tell you … but it’s really bad man, trust me on that … it’s really fucking bad.’ He was talking to me in a rapid fire, adrenaline pumped manner. ‘The cops, the cops are gonna question you. About me, so I can’t tell you nothing … can’t tell you nothing … can’t tell you nothing.’ He kept repeating that over and over like some retarded kid remembering the chorus to their favourite song.


My wife rolled over in bed and opened her eyes. She rubbed them for just a moment, then spoke. ‘Will someone please tell me why there is a convicted felon in my bedroom talking to my husband at…………..1:47 AM,’ she asked.


‘Jimmy, did you kill someone’ I asked. I figured let’s start at the top and work our way down. Ten commandments sorted in descending order of fuck up. Yep, start at murder always. If I get down to ‘Thou shalt not covet’ without a hit, then I send him home.


‘No, don’t think so … no, pretty certain it wasn’t fatal. He shot himself in the foot’ he told me. Yep those were his exact words. ‘He shot himself in the foot.’ Jimmy was very clear about it, he never shot anyone.


‘Throw me a robe’ my wife ordered. ‘Sure thing baby.’ She had been sleeping naked with me after making love. We haven’t been married that long. It’s the salad days of marriage when everything is thrilling and the sex is frequent and kinda kinky. I tossed her a nice short red silk robe. She’d need panties with that one. But she would know what I wanted later – her. She pulled it under the sheet and put it on.


Wife got up and went to the drawer for panties then on into the kitchen. She promised to put on a pot of coffee. I heard cabinet doors and water running in the sink.


I had to get to the bottom of the situation quickly. ‘What do you need from me?’ Why not start where I can, right?


‘Need some money. Can you help me out?’


You know how it is. You have known this person for years, you know their habits, their tastes in beer and women. We were best friends in high school. I went off to college, he stayed here. But you already know all of that so I won’t bore you with it. But yeah I heard Jimmy got in trouble with the law while I was in college. But I didn’t pay it no mind. Jimmy was not much for rules anyway. What was it? Oh yeah, 183 plants. In some warehouse out on some back county road. If I remember correctly the DA bargained it down to 24 plants and a lower class felony, one that avoids Florida’s Mandatory Minimum Sentencing Laws for Marijuana. Wasn’t he in the hospital for weeks and threatening a police brutality case? The DA settled with marking Jimmy for life. Records everywhere would show the conviction and life would now be three times harder for Jimmy. No decent jobs. No mortgage. No credit. Yep, Jimmy got fucked. Welcome to a cash existence.


I think Jimmy is working over at the muffler shop off Turnball Road. The one with that big blue sign and the Jesus billboard looking down on you when you drive past … yeah the one with the follow-you-everywhere eyes.


So I told Jimmy ‘Sure, bro. I can give you all the cash in the house.’


Normally that wouldn’t be more than $100 tops, but my wife’s birthday is a few weeks away and I have been squirreling a little bit of money for her present every time I go to the ATM, so I had just over $700 in cash. This is one of my best friends and he asks me for money. Of course I am going to give it to him.


I asked him again, ‘Did you hurt anyone?’


‘No, he shot himself in the foot. Not me. I didn’t do it.’ Those were his exact words or something pretty damned close to it.


I walked over to the dresser and pulled a bank envelop from inside a pair of socks in a drawer. I gave him the money. Hundreds mostly. I had a couple of twenties I gave him too. I think I told him ‘don’t spent it all in one place’ or something stupid like that. He gave me a hug, one of those manly chest bump sort of hugs.

Guess I could have gotten some of the blood from his jeans onto my robe when that happened, not really sure. We can go look if you want. Oh right … .


My wife brought us a couple of mugs of coffee and handed Jimmy a thermos full of the rest of the brew. He thanked her and kissed her on the cheek. This was unusual for him, as he doesn’t really like her. He resents that she has me all to herself and I am not out on the streets with him chasing pussy anymore. Oh well. We grew apart as friends long before I met her. Guess he sees it differently.


I gave him a leather jacket, in case it got cold. Yeah fat chance here in Florida. I told him that I would go with him to the police or he could wait here and we would call his lawyer in the morning and then go to the police with him. He wasn’t interested.


‘Not sure I can go with that. I don’t trust him. If he can figure out how to blame me, then I will be in prison for sure’ that’s what he said, as far as I can remember.


I don’t have any credit cards, except one. So I didn’t have any I could give him. My wife and I have over $30,000 in student loans. We have one credit card account with a balance of just over 8 grand on it. Ain’t much to give him, but I did what I could. You can check … oh yeah …


He thanked me again and then he left out the back. Said he had parked on the next street over. Yeah, the lot behind the house is empty and filled with trees. I showed him where I installed the gate in the back fence so he wouldn’t need to climb over it again. After he closed the back gate, we never saw him again. My wife and I went back to bed until we got up to go to work the next morning. The sex was great.


I leaned back in the chair. ‘So am I under arrest or am I free to go? I have told you everything I know’ (your move motherfucker)

So Help Me God - Part 2

So Help Me God - Part 2

Inspector Joe Mitchell smiled. His over-whitened teeth gleamed like little stars in his mouth.



‘You are not under arrest. We would just like you to stick around and assist us in understanding what happened last night.’ His salt and pepper hair was crafted into one of those spiky carefully arranged disorderly effects popular with men in their forties that don’t like the mirror as much as they used to. Mirror, mirror on the wall….historian to the fall.


‘But I don’t know any more than what I told you.’


‘Help us out here, we have a man in the hospital, wounded after a confrontation with your friend.’ Mitchell smiled the cop predator smile, the most fake smile known to our species. By my reckoning he was the kind of cop that would observe you intensely, then catalogue the possible charges he could file against you. That gave him power.


Time to see what he had to share. ‘What about the guy who shot himself in the foot? He knows what happened.’


Mitchell sat one ass cheek on the edge of the desk and leaned forward towards me. ‘He isn’t cooperating.’


‘I wish I could help you. He’s innocent. Jimmy wouldn’t harm nobody, ever.’


Mitchell pulled out the chair on the other side of the desk and sat down. He leaned back on only the back two legs of it. ‘Well we are pretty sure he is innocent. He drove the wounded man to the hospital. We just want to know the full story. A man was shot, looks like an accident but he won’t talk to us.’


Mitchell looked at me hard, ‘so he didn’t tell you where he was headed?’


‘Nope. He was trying to make sure I wouldn’t get arrest for aiding and abetting a fugitive,’ I responded.


‘If you had to guess where he would go, what would it be?’ Mitchell asked.


‘Hawaii. Definitely Hawaii.’ I responded.


‘Why there?’


‘Have you ever been?’


‘No.’


‘Go. Then you’ll know.’


‘Is that where Jimmy went when he disappeared for most of 2011?’


‘Yep, the big island I think.’


Mitchell loved the interrogator role. He looked me straight in the eyes now. ‘So you never went out to visit him in Hawaii in 2011?’


‘No. Couldn’t afford the trip.’


‘And you haven’t been tempted ever again to sprout some seeds?’


‘Come on, that was years ago. We were 15 years old kids and were curious more than anything else.’


‘One hundred plants is a lot of curiosity for a couple of 15 year olds!’ Mitchell was sounding unhappy with my answers.


‘Hey we only grew that many because we didn’t expect many to survive. We were wrong.’


‘How do you get your smoke these days?’


‘I don’t.’ (Technically I just broke the law knowingly with this answer … must not touch my face with my hands … they are taught to watch for that). ‘Listen, since I am not under arrest, I am going to leave now. Unless you are going to charge my wife, she will be leaving with me.’


‘Not so fast, what if I want you to submit to a piss test’.


‘I will only do that under advice of my attorney. So arrest me or I’m leaving.’ I stood up to leave the interrogation room. Mitchell got up quickly and put himself between me and the door.


‘What, is that your solution … physical intimidation? And this is your strategy to get me to be helpful? You are dumber than you look. Oh wait, I got it. You are waiting for me to brush past you or touch you in some way as I leave, so you can arrest me on one of those pussy assaulting a police officer charges.’


Mitchell stepped forward within a foot of my face. His cold blue eyes were blank. ‘I had you on assaulting a police officer the moment we walked into the room without any other cops around. All I need to do is cuff you, slap myself hard and you are a graduating felon. And the icing on the cake, want to know what that is? I get to beat the crap out of you in self-defence.’


‘There is only one flaw in that plan,’ I responded.


‘What’s that?’


‘I am free to beat the fuck out of you before you get the cuffs on me. Unless, of course, you are willing to shoot me. And I do mean willing, because you will have to.’


‘Look at you, all that brass in your balls now.’ Mitchell got closer. I was not in the mood to back down. I looked him in the eye. I remember something I read on Reddit. I went into psycho mode with blank eyes and spoke very calmly.


‘I came into this world screaming and covered in someone else’s blood. I don’t mind leaving the same way. So please, please keep fucking with me.’



Mitchell recognized ‘nothing to lose’ when he saw it. He stepped back. As I moved to the door, he spoke.


‘Guess who is the guy who shot himself in the foot.’


‘I’ve got no clue, why don’t you tell me,’ I replied.


‘Arturo Rodriguez. Does that name ring a bell?’


‘None.’


‘He is a captain in our police force.’


‘You’re kidding me. A cop shot himself and Jimmy drove him to the hospital?’


‘That is about the size of it’ responded Mitchell’ ‘Do you know what else is peculiar?’


‘Nope, no idea’ I replied.


‘Rodriguez was Jimmy’s arresting officer’.


‘No shit?’


‘None at all.’


I sat on the bench waiting for her. It took them 20 minutes to bring my wife to the waiting area at the front of the station. She ran to me and hugged my neck. She whispered in my ear ‘it went perfect, not a single hitch’.


We drove home.

So Help Me God - Part 3

So Help Me God - Part 3

I guess you need an explanation of what the fuck is really going on. Well, it was not supposed to be a complicated story, but Jimmy hadn’t planned out all the contingencies and it turned in an unexpected way. The easiest way would be to replay the story we told to the cops, except this time make it the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.


The motion detectors turned on the lights. Less than a second later, the dog started barking. I got up from the kitchen table and opened the patio door. Jimmy came in. He was hyperactive and nervous. His t-shirt was torn at the right shoulder and there was blood on the blue legs of his jeans.


‘You are late. We were getting worried about you,’ I said. We walked over and sat down at the kitchen table.


‘Man, it got weird. He didn’t react at all like I expected. No, not at all.’


My wife put a cup of strong coffee down in front of Jimmy. She touched his hand ‘It will be OK.’


‘Did you show him the video?’ I asked.


‘Yes.’


‘Did you tell him you had posted it on all online?’ I asked.


‘Yes. Gave him the list of the first ten sites it was posted to,’ Jimmy replied.


My wife sat down next to us at the table. She was wearing her big ugly pink leave me alone bathrobe. She was not pleased with this situation. She considered Jimmy irresponsible and more than a little dangerous.


‘So how did he take the news of you fucking his wife?’ she asked him.


‘Not very well. He watched the video where I got her to say very mean things about him while she is getting pounded’ he replied. ‘He didn’t handle that well at all.’


‘Shit. Where’s the gun I gave you’ I asked.


‘At the bottom of the St, John’s River. Tossed it on the ride over here’.


‘Good. Did you pull it on him?’ I asked.


‘Yeah,’ replied Jimmy. ‘I wasn’t sure if he was carrying a weapon. Found out later he was. He watched the videos with it pointed at him. He shot himself in the foot.’


‘What the fuck?


‘Yeah, he shot himself in the foot. That’s why I’m late. I had to get him to the hospital.’


‘What the fuck?’ (wife’s turn)


‘It could have been much worse. He could have died,’ said Jimmy.


‘Wait a minute. Slow down and tell us exactly what happened’.



This made no sense to me at that time. Taking him to the hospital was the only thing that seemed correct. Jimmy was always the Good Samaritan, the guy who stopped to help people on the side of the road. With his every mother’s dreamy looks about him and his natural charm, he could help out anyone in need. They felt at ease around him. That part seemed normal at least.


‘OK. Here’s the way it went down. I pulled the gun on him out in the parking lot. He was surprised to see me. He was expecting someone else for sure, some other cop or something. He remembered my name. I handed him the phone and made him watch the videos. I was expecting him to go all rage against the machine and shit but he didn’t. I’m half way through my speech about how I fucked his beautiful missus in the ass in his bed and I look over and the motherfucker is crying. Expecting hate and anger and what do I get? When his wife started talking about how he hasn’t made her cum since September 2007, he started crying loud like a weepy little girl.’


‘Watch it, motherfucker, some of us little girls are plenty tough,’ came out of my wife’s mouth. Surprising.


‘When he got to the part where she talks about how she only ever enjoyed sex with him when she was drunk, I shit you not, the little fucker starts that shoulder jerking up and down crying with those big, noisy sobs. I mean, I plan this day for years in my head, work all the angles up to it, control every detail … and what do I get, a cry-baby. I mean after a minute or two I am starting to feel sorry for the motherfucker.’


‘Don’t, you were just paying him back,’ I replied. Best help him feel justified in his actions, he is my best friend after all. ‘Remember the weeks you spent in the hospital after he beat the fuck out of you when you weren’t even resisting arrest. And for what? Because of jealousy.’


‘What do you mean jealousy,’ asked my wife.


‘Arturo’s wife was flirting with Jimmy in the bar at the Sand Dollar Restaurant down at the beach. Mr Protect-and-Serve did not take it too well. Three months later Jimmy is busted for growing and spent weeks in the hospital recovering from a beating he got from that scum bag cop while he was in handcuffs.’


‘Maria’ Jimmy said. ‘Maria is her name. She is a very special woman.’
Jimmy took a long sip of coffee.


‘So I have this cop crying in the parking lot. He is out of uniform so I figure he isn’t armed. No gun belt or none of that shit. But man, was I wrong.’ He took another sip of his coffee.


‘He reaches into his pocket like he is getting out his keys. I figure he is going to leave. Instead he pulls out this really tiny revolver. Must be a .22 calibre or something. I mean this thing is small. I fucking freak out when I see it. Was never planning to use the gun you gave me … only to make him watch the videos without trying something stupid. But when I see this little gun I start yelling at him to put it down. ‘Drop it, motherfucker. Drop the fucking gun.’ I kept yelling at him. But he don’t hear me. He just keeps sobbing and doing that stupid crying talking that makes no sense. Except for the word ‘sorry’ I couldn’t tell you anything else he said.’


‘Why didn’t you shoot him when he pulled the gun out,’ asked my wife.


‘I couldn’t do that. Besides he was just standing there crying arms down at his side. He wasn’t pointing it at me. I ain’t never shot a gun before. So he’s crying like a baby with a gun in his hand when the next video starts on my phone. Yeah, it’s that one I told you about.’


‘What video is that,’ my wife asks. ‘You two never told me about any of the videos.’


‘It was the one where his wife uses a strap on and reams his ass.

She makes him look at his face in pain in the mirror and tell her that he is her ‘little sissy bitch’. She makes him show her his hard cock while she is thrusting deep in his ass so he knows just how much of a sissy boy he is’. Jimmy did not take any joy in his words as he spoke. It was the opposite of what he had hoped and planned.



‘I put a micro spy camera right above the mirror in their bedroom and captured all of it.’


‘Oh hell, that one didn’t make him any happier,’ I commented.


‘He managed to ask me through his crying if I had posted that one on the porn sites too. When I told him I had, that is when he lost it completely and put the gun to his head. I was totally freaked out. I wanted this motherfucker to be destroyed for what he did to me … but death? I don’t want that for anyone or anything. So he is about to shoot himself in the head. He starts to take a deep breath before he is going to pull the trigger. I had to do something. I am about 5 feet away, so I dove at his arm that is holding the gun. I smash the fuck out of it with my right forearm, knocking it down as hard as I could right as he pulls the trigger. You know those little guns make a real popping sound; it’s not a real bang sound, more of a pop. Well, next thing I know he had a hole in the top of his tennis shoes and he had dropped the gun by his side.’


‘Holy shit you saved his life,’ I commented.


‘Not that he wanted me to. But now he has a bullet in his foot and it hurts like a son of a bitch. He is cursing like a sailor. I tell him I will get him to the hospital. I stick my gun back in my pocket and help him to my car. He is bleeding like a stuck pig all over the front floor mat of my car.’


‘I bet. A foot wound can still bleed a lot even if it isn’t fatal,’ I said as if I knew, but I didn’t. ‘Where is his gun,’ I asked.


‘We left it on the ground in the parking lot,’ Jimmy replied.


‘All the way to the hospital, he begs me to take down the files on the Internet. He told me that he would finish the job of killing himself if anyone ever found those files. Especially the strap on file, he was scared of anyone on the force ever seeing that one.’


‘Did you agree,’ my wife asked.


‘I did. I told him I would leave town, never see his wife again, take down all the files and send him the only copies of them on one condition and one condition only.’


‘What was that?’ my wife and I spoke almost in unison.


‘That he never, ever for as long as he lives, ever arrests anyone for cannabis again,’ Jimmy said. ‘No weasel-wording his promise either. So no cannabis, hash, hash-oil, butter, or any other cannabis derived products arrests. And no handing off arrests to another cop. It was the only thing I could think of at the time.’


‘Did he agree,’ I asked.


‘Sure did. He promised. I made him repeat the promise three times and I made him end the promise each time with ‘so help me god.’ Then I told him that he had now promised God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost. Figured I may as well put his catholic superstition to good use.’


‘What hospital did you take him to?’ my wife asked.


‘Mayo Clinic. It was the closest. I drove right up to the Emergency Entrance, got out and went and got some orderlies and a wheel chair. They came right away and took him from the car. I told them I was going to go around to the public parking lot and I would be back. I came here instead.’ Jimmy picked up the cup of coffee and took one last long sip.


‘Can I get the box now?’ he asked.


‘Sure thing,’ I replied. I walked over to the kitchen cabinet above the dishwasher and removed a large wooden box. I put it down on the table in front of Jimmy.


‘Will you ever come back here again?’ my wife asked.


‘No. That is not the plan. Only for funerals, weddings, births and graduations.’ She was pleased with his answer.


‘Have you closed on the house in Colorado?’ I asked.


‘Yep, last month it was mine. Got the keys, everything. Just gotta double the solar capacity when I come back from my roaming.’


Jimmy opened the box. Inside were stacks of pre-paid debit cards. Each card had a $9,000 credit balance. They were in various names (none real names) and each had a unique pin. There were 50 of them in total. Jimmy would use these to roam the globe for three months before settling down in northern Colorado to do what he does best, grow weed.


Cannabis is now legal in Colorado. Jimmy plans to use the change in the law and the short-term confusion to grow cannabis that can be shipped out to states where it is still illegal. He has purchased a five-acre place up in the hills. It is a two bedroom, two bath small house. But he didn’t buy it for the house. He bought it for the barn and the workshop. He plans to produce 50 pounds per month.


Jimmy left our house about ten minutes later. He left the country via Miami International Airport the next day. Over the next three months we got blank post cards from Caracas, Buenos Aires, Madrid and Rome. My wife and I spent the rest of the night rehearsing for our interrogation.


Before he left, Jimmy gave me the user name and password he used to upload all of the files to the porn sites. I deleted all the files. A couple of weeks later I saw Maria at a restaurant near the beach. She was still a beautiful Latinas in her early forties. Jimmy always had good taste in women. I posted Arturo a memory stick with the files on them.


I kept a copy for myself. It would make good insurance. And you never know when I might want to watch one of Jacksonville, Florida’s finest taking a long black dildo up his ass. Mostly though I would be looking at the beautiful naked Latin woman in the video.

Wow... True or not, that's an amazing story lmao

don't hold your breath waiting for god to help you

It feels like an adult version of an after school movie. It was powerful.

...... the only problem with the story is that it made me feel sorry for a cop!

CosmicGiggle said:

...... the only problem with the story is that it made me feel sorry for a cop!

Click to expand...

I feel sorry for lots of them. trying to do a job that we need them to do, but being told every day to do something as counter-productive as arresting people that are minding their own business & harming no one just so the state can make money from fines, probation fees, atty fees/taxes etc. now, those ass-licking dogs that ENJOY doing that are another matter entirely.

Reads like an Elmore Leonard.

I don't have anything against cops....well dead ones at least....hahaha.

Was just fucking around with the idea of what defines a true best friend...not just the kind you call your best friend....but someone who is truly a best friend. A solid.

Thought that someone who would walk into a police station and lie to cover your back definitely qualifies.

A few minutes after I started thinking about it and writing the opening scene, then I saw one of the hottest Latina MILFs ever. After that the story kinda finished itself.

Oh yeah...some excellent Haze helped me write it too. Gotta give the herb the credit it deserves.

Working on the second part of the mississippi Sativa Cooperative for the next two weeks. Will put up part one in a day or two. It's about an industrial size grow op. just gotta be careful with the details....don't wanna make ignorant mistakes.

Solid storytelling skills, good reading.

Well I've done it now. I've put up The mississippi Sativa Cooperative. You can find it here:

https://www.icmag.com/ic/showthread.php?t=290743

It was posted here a few months ago in very rough form. Been sharpened a good bit since then.

Hope its worth reading.

Not sure I understand what this is. Are you a creative writer or someone that is just trying to tell a factual story?

That story is BS if I ever heard one. Fiction.....

Retro is correct. BS....but hopefully entertaining BS.

I see your story telling skills are as sharp as ever. So the first rendition of "The mississippi Sativa Cooperative" was very rough but you've sharpened it up? That should be a very excellent read then.