I had several friends that were girls. These friendships gave me critical insights into the inner workings of an unexplained enigma; a woman’s mind. I realized early the importance of understanding the mystery of feminine energy.
One of my best friends was Janet. We didn’t hangout outside of class, but we’d talk on the phone after school.
I was talking to her one day when Craig pulled up outside. He couldn’t believe I was talking to a girl.
He rushed down and took the phone from me. It wasn’t long before they were boyfriend and girlfriend.
I lost my friend.
He wouldn’t let her talk to me, or anyone else. He was controlling and abusive, physically and emotionally.
Was it my fault for bringing them together?
She would call me crying, asking if I knew Craig was cheating. I always lied.
Whoever I’m better friends with, I’m siding with.
But if I’m friends with you both, I gotta side with the dude.
Did I feel bad for lying to Janet? Not really. We were forced to turn on each other. She was on her own.
Yes Craig is the worst person I’ve ever met and I hope I never have to see him again. But that’s only part of the story. Granted that part is about 75%. The other 25 was him being really cool.
It’s too bad his narcissism took over his better attributes. His erratic behavior and temper would lead to his destruction and seclusion from his friends -and family, which was every black person in town besides me.
They were all cousins. That’s a little creepy when you consider how small the gene pool is there, but makes sense when you take into account the sociopathic genetic mutation ramifications of incest.
They say narcissists are often popular as children but inept as adults. That’s Craig. Everyone seemed to love him. His manipulation bred within an adolescent mind a misplaced feeling of adoration. In other words he was an asshole who had all the girls. Everybody knows girls love assholes.
As terrible as he was, and we’ll get to it all, there’s much to be learned from every tragic figure.
A Craig story that comes to mind is when he robbed a classmate at gunpoint.
Craig and his friend George would sit beside me in study hall and plot their heist.
I knew their victim and truthfully I liked him, but for some reason they hated him. I was like Biggie the night of Tupac’s Quad Studio shooting, I knew he’d get robbed but couldn’t stop it. Their prey was a charismatic young man by the name of Aubrey. He was a couple years older than me and played varsity golf. He’d always scream my name “Arthurrr” in the hallways. I thought he was cool, but the Crew saw him as a sucker.
Aubrey, like everyone else, sold weed. He sold pounds while the rest of us sold 8th’s. George and Craig’s plan was simple. Ask for a pound, then put a gun in his face.
They picked him up in George’s red S-10 and drove to a vacant cul-de-sac. The gun was just out of sight.
George was nervous. Craig on the other hand was getting impatient. In true sociopathic fashion, he grabbed the gun, cocked it and pointed at Aubrey.
”Give up the shit right now, bitch!”
Shortly after they successfully steal the weed, I hear a car stereo outside my house. It was Craig and George. They’re laughing hysterically about what just happened. I was laughing too. Just 3 teenagers driving around small town St. Clairsville with a pound of weed and a shotgun. No big deal.
That’s how it was back then. That’s how dumb we were. That’s how unconscious and unaware we were. We didn’t think there were repercussions to our actions. But there were.
Aubrey had a sit down with some older members of the Crew. He wanted payback, but there was nothing he could do. He was only affiliated. Craig and George were made, thus untouchable.
It seemed like things were about to get worst for Aubrey. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. At lunch where fights happen frequent, Craig confronted Aubrey with a haymaker punch to the skull.
Craig’s hand bone shattered and he was rushed to the hospital.
He was in a cast for months. To this day his hand is still scarred and doesn’t open entirely.
That would be the least of Craig’s Karma.