Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

Got Problems?

“I remember the time when I was just like you,” I say, looking around at the
puzzled faces around me.
“My name is Geoff Goldman. I am here because I have been asked to talk to you
about what it is like to be on drugs, alcohol, steal things, I can go on and on.
Now I have a story, well not just one, but there is an incident (my life) that I
would like to talk about. I am not going to summarize my entire life, because
that will be boring. Now I see some of you already laughing. But once I actually
start it will not be funny. Because I remember stealing cars, breaking into
houses and taking things that people cherished because it had some sentimental
value to them. I also drank alcohol like Scotch, Rum, Whiskey. As we sit in this
cafeteria of a prison, your probably thinking to yourselves ‘Hey man, there is
no way in this motherf----ing world this guy drank. I mean look at him, he’s
probably 45 years old and probably does this for a living, not knowing what in
the living hell he’s talking about.’
“Well, not only did I drink but I also did drugs. Mushrooms, coke, heroin, you
name it I had it in my system at least once. Now I’ll start with when I was
already the most active in this whole mess, which was fourteen, and later will become
a motivational speaker.”

“Geoffrey Goldman, you march back here this instant. GEOFFREY!!! If you walk out that door, you shall never come back into this house ever again,” yells my mother.
“Shut your face woman. I said I’ll be back at dinner time. Just me and the boys
got some bidness to take care of, ya hear? Peace,” I say and walk out the door.
Stupid mother, will she ever leave me alone? I think to myself. As I walk down
the street I see some new people moving in a busted old mansion that stands on
my street.
“Yo man, who the new folk that movin’ in that crappy house?” I ask one of my
friends as I reach the end of my block,
“Don’t know man. But the people that bought the place-,” Joe begins.
“Yeah,” I rudely interrupt.
“They’re daughter, is mad fine, son,” Joe continues.
“Yeah,” Joe tells me.
So we go about our business. We decide to hold up a drug store, go bungee jumping and drink
so hard core liquor. That night, after Joe dropps me of at my house, I decide to
check with my mom if she knows anything about the knew people that have just
moved in.
“Yo ma’, where you at?” I yell through the house as the door slams behind me.
“Well hello to you too,” my mom answers in her raspy voice from the top of the
“Ya, whatever. Do you know anything of the knew people that have just moved
in?” I ask.
“We’ll talk about it over dinner. It’s a long story,” she answers.
“Oh great, exactly what I need, a long story.”
As we sit down to dinner later that evening, my mom explained to me that the
people that have moved in where old friends of hers from college. I also find
out that I used to be best friends with their daughter when I was little but I
didn’t remember. All of a sudden, I got excited. My friend Joe told me that she
now is hot and my mom just told me that we were friends when we were little
“You know what mom, I think I do remember. We went to the same elementary
school and I remember that we had a science project to do in a group. See, we
had to make a solar system and my partner was this girl who you claim to be
the one that just moved in today. Oh man, we had some good times after that. Yes
we were only nine, but we had our fun. Oh, good times, good times,” I say, not
realizing that I was now day dreaming.
“Maybe you should go over there tomorrow and talk to her,” replies my mom.
“Nah, I can’t do that, the times have changed, women changed,” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous Geoffrey,” my mom says.

“Anyway, I went over and talked to her the next day, you see,” I say, glancing
at the already half asleep faces around me.
“C’mon man, when is the story gonna get good?” says some kid in a Fubu get up
and a backwards Bulls cap.
“When I go to boot camp. But not until I go on the Jerry Springer show,” I
“Man dog, you know Jerry? He the bomb. Did you see the episode where these two
chicks come out and beat the crap out of each other because their lover was
cheating on one of them and then announced on the show that he was gay? Man,
that was mad funny,” says the same kid, now sitting up in his chair, laughing
along with some other kids.
“Quiet. That’s not the point. My point is, I wanted to be with this girl, but
she didn’t want to have a relationship with someone who might get hurt, making
her emotionålly weak,” I reply.
“Women, man, always emotionally affåctionate,” says the same kid.
“Are you gonna be quiet or not? I wanna finish the story. After laughing some
more, the kid finally shut his trap.
Any who, I agree to change my life, for her, and go on the Jerry Springer show.
There, I meet some crazy people. Strippers, rejected circus acts, and dryg users and abusers. I goon the show and argue with Jerry about my life. He says I should change for the benefit of the doubt, and I say f--- you, this is who I am, so this is who I’m going to be. The audience begins to get irritated and Jerry brings out a “friend” of his, Sergeant Cornnuckle.

“Get up off of your seat, you little punk!” yells the sergeant in my face. You wanna be tough! Huh? You haven’t seen tough, little man! I’m tough! And as soon as your mother signs your sorry butt over to me, I’m going to be your mom!” continued the sergeant, yelling, pounding every word into my face.

Over the next several days, I pack off and go to boot camp. And what an experience that was, let me tell you. Besides prison, this is the last place you want to go to. They work your butt off like a cow plowing the fields. It’s frustrating. So after I get out of boot camp, this girl and me decide to go out.

We have our fun, we have our unhappy days as well. But everything turns out to be all right. When both of us grow up, we get married. Both of our lives are as happy as they could be. I become a motivational speaker, and she a lawyer. But you should see us, we are like a match made in heaven…

I stand in the waiting room of the Green Edge City Hospital, waiting for results. I just found out that my wife has been shot several times when she accidentally walked in the middle of a shoot out. The nurse reported to me that it wasn’t looking good, but we (her parents and mine) had to wait for the doctors report.

Everything seemed to move slowly for me. The clock seems like forever to go around in the single minute, and life itself seems to go by very drastically. I see the doctor walk out of the room, and leap out of the chair without noticing, and pounce on him like a tiger with questions.

“Is she all right doctor? Is everything going to be all right?” I ask.

“Calm down, calm down, Mr. Goldman. Maybe you should have a seat,” the doctor advised.

I did as he recommended.

“The problem is, is that a bullet penetrated the back of her neck and ripped the spinal cord in two. Another bullet hit her in the side of the face and went into the brain. The best we could do, if she doesn’t die, is save her but she will be, at most, brain dead and quadriplegic,” said the doctor.

The women in the entire family faint and I sit there in complete shock, mouth wide open, staring at the ceiling, slouching in the seat I was sitting in.

“So what shall we do?” asks her father.

“I don’t know what you want to do, but some families take their loved one off of life support because they don’t want them to suffer,” answers the doctor.

“Well, thank you doctor. Do you mind if we talk this problem over?” I say.

“Sure,” says the doctor and walks away.

Clueless of what to do, we sit there, emotionally uneven. As the women regain their consciences, we begin to talk this over. We all loved her dearly but did not want to kill her. On the other hand, as the doctor had said, we don’t want her to suffer. After careful consideration and analysis, we came to a conclusion.

“Doctor,” I say. “After a long talk, we have decided to let her go. We realize that everyone that has known her will miss her. But to let her live, brain dead and quadriplegic will not be correct. It is wrong of our doing to torture her so, considering the fact that she wont be able to get out of bed. So even though she is not going to be here with us, the memory of her will live on in our hearts as well as in our memories.”

Related Items


The following comments are for "Got Problems?"
by Mr. E

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.