The Ballad of Saint Grimm - The Story of My Life

A Few of my life-long friends have often said I should write a book about my life, as it seem I live one drama disaster after another. One person even went as far as to say I am like a fictional character in an adult book about the darker side of life. The only odd part, is that they may be right. I'm not even 21 yet, and already I have a reputation county wide for my life experiences. I made this thread to share my life with sythe and see if anyone else thinks my life would make a good book, as I have started to take the idea a little bit seriously. Of course this is not a book writing, it is just a summary of my life without important details.




TERMS OF READING: By reading this you agree to be bound legally not to report any things said in this story to the police.


On August 8th 1992 I was born into this world. I started out as a typical child, spoiled and loved by my mother. My mother and father separated when I was 3 years old, they say separation has strong effects on the child, and it may be true, but I’ve always blamed my issues on other things. I would have to say the main thing I blame the issues on is being picked on by the neighborhood kids. I was the youngest on our street and the older, stronger kids often took advantage of that. I was raised on old school heavy metal music, Ozzy, Motley Crue, KISS, and shit like that. My mother was tattooed up and could often be found at the bar in Mob Town. Most of my young childhood memories take place sitting with her outside of the bar with her friends talking to me and bringing her drinks.

The story here doesn’t really start until I’m 13 years old. I was a tall, fat goth kid weighing in at almost 300 pounds and nearly 6 feet tall. I started growing my hair out a year earlier and at the time my bright blonde hair was dyed black and shoulder length. I wore big baggy bondage pants and death metal band t-shirts. I was sometimes known to be violent, lashing out at people that tried to put me down and with my weight behind my swing, I could put anyone in my age group on their ass, so it didn’t take long for the jocks and popular kids to stay out of my way. I started smoking cigarettes shortly before my 13th birthday, Doral Menthol 100s was my choice of cancer.

The last time my mother ever told me she loved me was on my 13th birthday, and it was during this year, my 13th year, which I met the first girlfriend I cared about. Her name was Jessica. It was a long distance relationship, we lived around 30 miles apart but due to the kids at school either being afraid of me or just avoiding me due to my looks, I found my friends outside of school and had friends that would drive me to see her and spend time with her. This was also the year I smoked pot for the first time. I smoked a blunt with 3 friends but didn’t feel anything, so I smoked another to myself. Not long after the second blunt I learned what creeper was. I don’t remember much but people say I was acting like a fool, jumping around and yelling at people for no reason. The part I do remember is being carried inside my house by a friend and dropped on my bed and also finding that I had to concentrate on breathing or I wouldn’t breathe at all. Smoking weed became a routine thing to do very quickly as I had more fun each and every time I smoked.

It was about 6 months after meeting Jessica that a popular girl at my own school took notice in me. I guess a reputation of drinking, smoking and violence attracts the upper-class. We went on a date and immediately I felt like she was what I wanted. I left Jessica and started spending a lot of time with Tiffany. She was a strange case; even though she was popular, she had issues and her mentality and once and awhile her dress code was the same as mine. Dark. Sadly, after a month I started missing Jessica. It was eating at me as nothing ever should a person at my age. I was craving her. NEEDING her. I saw no other choice but to leave Tiffany and fix things with Jessica. Things went fine for just a single day. Then the cops showed up at my front door. Tiffany’s aunt, feeling that I had done her daughter wrong had called the cops and said that I had threatened to shoot up the school. Such a stereotypical thing to say about a goth kid. I was sent to a mental hospital for a mental evaluation. The scars on my wrists shone bright as day when they asked if I had ever cut myself, I told them no, and they believed it. I passed the evaluation with flying colors, even though I had to lie on every question.

The next day I was taken to a juvenile detention center where I stayed for a little over a month. The food was uneatable. The only food I ate the entire time I was locked away was beans one night a week, and a piece of cake one night a week. I made friends quickly by giving the food I couldn’t stand to eat to the older kids who seemingly were at the top of the juvenile delinquents most violent. I talked to my probation officer everyday over the phone, as we had been friends for a little over a year after I was caught breaking the windows out of an old building when I was 12. My mother came to visit me once a week and except for the starvation, my first time being locked up wasn’t a bad experience. The hardest part was not being able to talk or see my sweetheart. Every night I would go to sleep thinking of her and all the things we would do as soon as I got out.

I appeared in court infront of a judge after 1 month of kiddy incarceration and was acquitted on the charges due to lack of evidence, but charges of an assault from earlier that year were also brought up and I received 100 hours of community service and 90 days house arrest which denied me the ability of talking on the phone to friends, or the internet. I went two days following the rules before I had to break them and log onto MSN to speak with my girl. She had moved on while I was inside and I was left alone. But on the upside I had lost almost 100 pounds while being locked up.

Not long after I had sex for the first time with the school-slut and I lost control. I was sleeping with anyone who would take me. Sex beat weed on my list of favorite things to do and before the year was up I had slept with 10 girls. For my dark aspect on life and love for evil and my “dark” actions as my friends would call them, my friends started calling me Prince Grim.

My 14th year may very well be the most important, as it formed me into whom I am today. I had made bestfriends with my weed/pill dealer and was walking home from his house one night when an old beat up big-body car crept up beside me. The passenger side window rolled down and the smoke rolled out like you would see in a movie. A deep voice said “hop in kid” and as a fearless, violent, depressed, angry teenager I had no fear of being picked up and murdered, so I did as I was told. The man driving the car was wearing a denim jacket and hair even longer than mine. The man in the passenger seat had a bright red mohawk and wore a leather studded and patched jacket. Not a single word was said before I was passed a joint from the man with a mohawk and happily hit it and passed it onto the driver. The man with the mohawk introduced himself as Timmy and the other man as his little brother Jerry. They asked if I had anywhere to be that night, I replied no and we proceeded to Mob Town where I was taken to Timmy’s house and met his wife and two young kids. We passed around a few more joints and all crashed out sitting on the couch watching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
It was also during this year that my mother got married to Bill, a big abusive redneck. He made all the rules. They worked the same job, same shift, but my mother would sleep from when she got home early in the morning until the early afternoon when I got out of school. Bill would go to sleep shortly before she got up and would sleep until 7pm at night. Supper was required to be ready at 7pm sharp, and if anyone woke him up during the day there was hell to pay. He never liked me, always calling me named like “queer” and “faggot”. It wasn’t rare for him to hit me. One day, about 6 months after they got married he hit me and I got back up and hit him with all my might square in the mouth and knocked him on his ass. He looked at my mom and asked if she was going to do anything about it. She didn’t say anything she just looked away. Bill called his brother and left, never to be seen by us again.

Not long after Bill left, Timmy decided he wanted me to meet his other friends. There was Chip, a 54 year old man from California, where Timmy and Jerry also came from, Adam, a 42 year old man from here in Missouri, Big Joe, a 44 year old man from Alabama, his 22 year old daughter and John a 22 year old man from New York City. They were a crew that called themselves SKUNX (Skinheads Punx & Drunx). The gang was California based and even has famous members such as Lars Frederikson from the band Rancid, who Timmy had met personally. Timmy wanted me to be in and I wanted to be. The initiation was your usual beat down. I, a 14 year old boy, was beat mercilessly by 5 grown men for 10 minutes straight but I didn’t shed a single tear. I was accepted, and the fun began. We has a safehouse on the outskirts of Mob Town where we would party and women would come from all around to get a taste of our drugs. The women would do anything Timmy told them to. He would tell women to sleep with me and I at 14 I found myself sleeping with different women every other night, who were also all over the age of 20. Sadly it only lasted around 5 months before Timmy was arrested for armed robbery and given 10 years. In his absence Chip took over and kept the cocaine moving through Missouri. We all got a cut, while 45% of all profits were put back for Timmy when he got out. It was also during this year I dropped the “Prince” and started going by just “Grim”.

My 16th year came too soon. Time sped by so fast. I was dating Taylor, Joe’s daughter. I was 16 and she was 24. Days and nights were a blur of cocaine, marijuana and beer. I found myself being away from home weeks at a time, and skipping school just as often. Sometimes Taylor would drop me off at school, other times we wouldn’t even wake up until noon and just start partying. We were never emotionally attached to each other. We were more like friends who kissed and occasionally had sex. It was never a serious relationship and we made a mutual agreement that we would stop the kissing and sex and just keep the rest how it already was. My violent actions and eagerness to make myself known, both inside the SKUNX crew and to everyone on the street as well as my love for sex drugs and violence made Chip call me “The young Saint of Sin” and it was then that I began calling myself Saint Grimm, Saint of blood, violence and all sin.

During this year I also met a girl who got pregnant but had an abortion.

I developed a crush on a girl that had once been popular and wouldn’t even talk to me. These days she was emo and hung out with me anytime I wasn’t hanging out with the crew. One night she invited me to a party, I thought it was a date. Before she picked me up I smoked a blunt and drank half a bottle of Nyquil to prepare myself for the night ahead. She told me she was so glad I was coming with her, she was worried about some of the guys at the party possibly taking advantage of her while she was fucked up. And it was then I realized, I wasn’t a date, I was a bodyguard. I was around 210 pounds and 6 foot 2 inches tall. Known to roll with a bad crew of course, my reputation for violence had not died down, so being a bodyguard is something that is easy for me to do. As expected, no one bothered us at the party. 3 or 4 blunts were passed around and I drank 6 or 7 beers and some Jack Daniels. My “date” left around 3am but I chose to stay to get more fucked up, and did just that. Only 3 people were left at the party so the last few joints went a long ways. By 4 30am I was ready to start walking home but the girl throwing the party asked that I stay because the trailer park was about 3 miles away from my house. She pointed me in the direction of where I would be sleeping and followed me into the room.

She started taking off my pants and for the first time in my entire life I said “no I can’t do this I’m to fucked up” I couldn’t even move my arms to push her away. My body was paralyzed. She continued to rape me even though I demanded over and over again to stop. It was a vile beginning to a terribly dark relationship.

It wasn’t far into the relationship before she claimed to be pregnant, and me, being young and naïve believed her. It wasn’t long before I fell in love with my fake-pregnant girlfriend and my future was looking bright. However, 4 months into the relationship she cheated on me with my drug dealer, but acted more upset than me, and I also believed to have a kid on the way, so I stayed. About a month or so later, she found out she really was pregnant and didn’t know if it was mine or my dealers. Still I stupidly stayed. Every day the thought of her being with someone else was on my mind. It was driving me crazy. I confronted the dealer and put him flat on his back and told him I never wanted to see him in the trailer park again. My word was law and he stayed away until his mother moved into the park and I left it alone, even though my hate for him was still strong. He began dating Kelly’s 14 year old sister, a sick thought with him being older than me.

It wasn’t long at all before the anger of a cheating fiancé and other personal problems built up to a point of explosion. On my 17th birthday Kelly wanted to go hang out with friends instead of spending the day with me, when I told her I wasn’t going to let her she of course, as she did daily, began bitching and yelling, starting an argument. I told her to shut up; my mom didn’t want to her here bullshit. And she said “then that bitch can come tell me so!” and even though my mother hadn’t even told me she loved me for 4 years, she was still the most important woman in my life, and calling her a bitch was crossing the line. That with the rest of the anger built up caused me to smack Kelly onto the bed. A neighbor heard the ruckus and called the police. The officer let me off due it being my birthday and first offence, and I helped Kelly move out. It only took her a week to call me asking to work things out, and as stupid as it was, I agreed. This time we moved into her mother’s house. I went out one night with the SKUNX crew, who had allowed me distance due to having a baby on the way, to drink some beer and smoke some weed. I got home an hour late, and after her claiming to cheat on me with a different guy every weekend, she had the guts to accuse me. I walked in the door and she said "who you been out fucking?" I said "I aint dealing with your shit Im going to bed". I didn't even notice the monkey wrench in her hand when I walked by. I felt something hit me on the top of the head, hard. Hard enough to know a 200 pound man completely off his feet. I looked up and she was standing above me, about to hit me with the wrench again, i swung up and hit her in the mouth with a full fist and blood started pouring out of her mouth and nose. I got up and walked 2 miles to the hospital where I had to get 6 staples in the top of my head. When I walked out of the ER part and into the waiting room, 4 police officers were waiting for me. I got arrested for domestic abuse because she said I hit her first.

Bail was 1800$, but having SKUNX has always been a benefit, and I got bailed out less than 3 hours after being arrested, less than 10 minutes after being put in the holding cell for the night. And I stayed with him until the court date which was only 1 week later. After court, I went back to stay with her. About a month later, the dreams were still an every night thing and now we fought more than once every day and I ended up slapping her atleast once a day. I was a wreck. I was still drinking myself sick day and night, praying for death. I knew that if I didn't leave I'd end up hurting my daughter so I finally left for good. I got a new girlfriend right away, and my babys mamma was constantly starting shit with her. Me, my best friend and my new girl went to get the rest of my shit, my ex's 14 year old sister was talking shit when we were getting in the car to leave and I told her to shut the fuck up. She got in my way so I couldn't close the car door, my friend, whose car it was was yelling at her to move I was yelling at her to get the fuck out of the way and she was in my face talkin shit, so I just started slamming the door against her and she got in the car on my lap with her knees on my thighs so I couldn't reach my knife, so I grabbed my friends knife out of the center console of the car, and stabbed her in the chest, but he grabbed my hand and the knife only took a small chunk out of her titty, but if he hadn't grabbed my hand, or had grabbed it just one second later I'm 100% positive it would have been a deadly wound.

My girl at that time, scratched up my face and arms, we ditched the knives back at her house and waited for the cops to pick us up. I played their role this time and said I didn't stab her, I told the rest of the story in truth and added pushing her out of the car unharmed. Sadly enough, us 3 lying's story added up better than my ex, her new fuck buddy, her sister, their mom and their mom's boyfriend all together. The cops said our story matched and all of their stories were different, worst part is they ALL saw it happen. and at once she was still considered a minor in this state, I didn't have a choice to press charges and she was sent to a juvenile detention center.

My daughter was born Januray 30th 2010. Earlier that month, Timmy got out of prison on parole. We had complaints that our cocaine was light when buyers would come to the drop off and get the bag. The bag of course had sometimes been sitting at the drop off for hours before the buyer would come and drop off the money. An investigation through the grapevine revealed that somehow, which is still unknown how to me, that a 17 year old from Mexico, Missouri had been stealing small amounts of coke from the drop off. I won’t say what we did here, as it could get me in more trouble than it’s worth to type. After retrieving the coke and doing what had to be done, Timmy presented me with red shoe laces for my combat boots, saying “you earned them well”. The red laces made me high ranked in the crew, only overruled by Chip and Timmy himself. It was proof that I had made another bleed in the name of the crew. Late in January, Adam had a motorcycle wreck and died.

In March, Timmy decided to break his parole and return to California for a week with Chip to work on some of our business. Two weeks went by and no one had heard from him. Another week went by and Jerry called me, informing me that Timmy and Chip’s bodies were found with a duffle bag full of cocaine and marijuana. They named it gang violence and still today no one has been charged with the murder of my father/big brother figure and best friend. Big Joe said the crew was going downhill and he wouldn’t be in a gang led by a 17 year old kid and he moved back to Alabama. Taylor and John soon after got married and moved back to his home of New York City. I still keep in touch with all 3 of these people today and maintain a good relationship; however, SKUNX in Missouri is dead.

My gang tattoos and lack of education, due to dropping out at 17 was causing it to be very difficult to find work during my 18th year. I found a new way to make money like the old days. A man who would sell me 100% pure cocaine for $200.00 a gram, which I could turn around and sell for $400.00 a gram, but in order to do this I had to go all the way to St. Louis. One week I made $3,000.00 but blew it all on new clothes, drugs, alcohol and random shit I didn’t need all within 4 days. One night me and my selling partner were buying weed from my old drug dealer, the one I was good friends with when I met Timmy, set up a deal and the people he told us to go to sold us spinach instead of weed. I was on a sherm stick that night (a cigarette dipped in liquid PCP) so my rage flourished. I pulled out my knife and they locked themselves in their car and I was beating on the car and rocking it back and forth like it weighed nothing. They threw our money out of a partially opened window and we grabbed it and took off running. My partner counted it and the amount was short by $20.00 so I started going back, but they saw me walking back towards them got in the car and tried to leave, but I jumped in front of them and they hit me head on going about 30 MPH. I got up and chased the car until I couldn’t see it anymore. I didn’t feel any pain until around 3am when the PCP wore off and I noticed when my left leg was bent, it looked fine, but when I straightened it out, my foot was pointing inwards towards my other foot. My entire leg from the knee down was rotating when I bent and straightened my leg. I had my partner grab my ankle and jerk it until it made a loud pop, and shortly after the pain went away.

At the end of my 19th year I met a girl who could make all of my dreams come true. We are currently engaged. I am working on getting a GED and a job so we can get a house and marry within the next 3 months, and she is doing the same. I can honestly say I have never been happier in my entire life than I am now. But times are still hard, and the trauma left by Kelly gives me trust issues, but she works with me and even willingly quit hanging out with guys. It makes me feel controlling, but at the same time I’m happy knowing I can sleep easy and she won’t be around any other man. The trauma caused by Timmy’s death makes me no more concerned for my own life, but every time Bethany so much as gets in a car, I worry myself to death that I’ll never see her again, just as I never saw Timmy again after he left for Cali. But in total, I gladly say I am living a happy life.

 

im sure your terms of reading will hold up in court.

gunna start reading it now.

Interesting story. Kind of reminded me of "rule of the bone"

 

So not worth writing a full auto-biography? lol.

 

not on this forum. No one is going to read it. We here at sythe have attention spans of fish.

 

Really happy that you turned your life around bro, hopefully your wedding is soon and you can expand on your life with a new family.

Cheers x

 

I didnt mean on here, I mean like writing and getting it published.

I wouldnt say Ive turned my life around. I still smoke alotta dope and drink when I can. I would still do harder drugs than weed, but my girls never used hard drugs and says if i do em I have to let her try em too and I'm not okay with her doing that stuff. The only things thats changed is the violence and rage and shit died down ALOT and thats just where a book would have to end if I wrote it, because no one wants to read about sum guy just sittin round cuddlin and smokin pot all day. lol

 

This won't apply if you were to publish.

It's an interesting story, but I'm not sure it's ready to be published just yet. You might want to wait a 5-10 years to see what happens in your life.

Or, you could just make it a fictional account, but that's going to take away from sales, but interest other people in buying. So you'll have a trade off.

 

Hell i would buy it. I love reading stuff like this. I really find it inspirational how people can from being so fucked up to getting there shit together. Or at least attempting to do so. Weather you publish this or something fictional i would read it. As long as its not an Ebook or some shit like that=P

 

If i were to write it, even though for me it would be an auto-biography I would write it as fiction to keep heat off of myself.