Boat drinks and the birth of the Saint…

Posted: August 31, 2010 in Short Stories
Tags: , , , , ,

Today is the birthday of my good friend, “Nasty” Nate Marchese. July, 11th of this year, also marked the 4 year anniversary, of the tragic end to my good friend’s life. Not a day goes by, that I do not think about Nate, and the memories we shared. I decided it was better to share a story about Nate, on his birthday, rather than the day that marked his death, because I found it a more appropriate way to celebrate his life. It is also my present to him for his 33rd birthday.

I had originally written this story 4 years ago. But, I let some hack edit it. They completely took liberties with my voice and basically ruined a great story. Why would I allow someone to do this? Well, I was still wet behind the ears and was trying my hardest to break into writing more seriously, and honestly my total lack of technical skill, when it came to grammar was hindering this. So like a fool, I let someone destroy my emerging voice. A hard but good lesson learned. Now ,that I’ve grown into my own, I feel it only appropriate to pay tribute to Nate the proper way. So here it is. Happy Birthday, fat boy!

The birth of the Saint.

Many a person has asked how I got dubbed “The Saint.”  To tell this tale, we have to travel back in time to the year of our lord 1997.  I’m a wide eyed and young 21 year old, who’d just begun my adventure on the road. I’d also just touched down in Columbus, Ohio. I was living on the campus of one of the biggest party schools in the country, and was taking full advantage of the location. Drugs and the college experience go hand in hand. So I figured, somebody needs to be supply these kids with drugs, might as well be me. I’d surely be able to make friends that way. I didn’t know really anybody, but my roommate at the time, and his friend Hosh. Hosh, was this compulsive liar type. The kid was always telling this bullshit story, about how his dad was some high ranking Mafioso, in order to look tough, and impress people. Everybody knew it was bullshit, but he kept telling the tales. He also claimed to have tons of hook ups. I mean he did know a shit ton of fiends. So I figured, I could at least take advantage of that, and make some money.

I’d previously lived in Cincinnati. That’s where I first arrived in Ohio. But I had a taste for breaking into veterinarian’s offices and animal hospitals, to procure Ketamine to sell at raves. To make a long story short, one night the pigs caught me and my partner, breaking into one. I got away and he did not. I figured the heat was on, and I needed to get the fuck out of dodge. So I moved to Columbus. I did have more than a few hook ups in the Cincinnati area. One day I got a call from one of them, asking if I could get 10 pounds of regs for 10 grand in Columbus. They said they’d split the profit off the sale with me, if I could, of course I said, I’d see what I could do, even though I really didn’t know anybody, but Hosh.

When I went to Hosh with this proposal, he assured me he could handle this– no problem, and would hit me up later that day after he talked with his people.

A few hours later; I get a call from Hosh screaming and crying that he’d gone to talk with some people, and they thought he had the 10 grand, and beat his ass senseless, in an attempt to rob him. He also wanted to know what I was going to do about these people beating his ass! I wonder why he wasn’t calling his Mafioso daddy. That was the first thought that popped in my head. Of course I knew why, the guy didn’t exist. He told me it was this kid named “Nasty” Nate and his friend Chip. I knew Chip. I used to work with him at this pyramid scam business. You know the type that says if you build a team of 5 members and follow their patented system, they’ll give you your own warehouse full of overpriced knockoff garbage.  I never bought into the whole concept. I just needed a job and money, and these people gave anybody with a pulse a shot.

Now I really didn’t give a flying fuck about them kicking Hosh’s ass. In fact, I wanted to kick his ass for almost getting me involved with these assholes! Now that I’m older and wiser, I probably never would have done, what I was about to do.  But at 21, I figured I needed to make a name for myself, if I was going to be a successful drug dealer. I needed to show people, they couldn’t even think about robbing me and get away with it. So I asked around about this Nasty Nate character.

I asked several people that I knew about him, and every last one of them said the same thing. “You’d have to be completely and totally insane to fuck with Nate.”  Perfect, what better way for me to make a name for myself than to confront Columbus’s leading bad guy? I for one never realized, what the name I’d earn or the infamy that came with that name, would be what it was.

Later that evening; I’d been out at the bar drinking Strong Islands, sniffing meth, and eating rolls. So I was pretty pumped up, and over flowing with both the liquid and chemical muscles, I’d need to handle this task. So at 3:30 in the morning, I made my way to Nasty’s house to confront him on his own turf. I knew where he lived, because I had to pick Chip for work on a few occasions. I made my way to his house.

Once there, I took a few deep breaths, and made my way up the two flights of stairs that led to his door. The staircase was littered with empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, crack sacks, and the over powering stench of stale booze, urine and vomit.  Once at the door; I gave it 3 sharp raps.

Chip answered the door, drunk and stumbling with a puzzled yet happy to see me look on his face.

“Yo, Eddie what’s up dog? What brings you here? Man, you missed it we fucked this dude up today!” He exclaimed as he showed me his bloody and mangled knuckles.

“I know, that’s why I am here. I want to talk to Nate.”

“Sure, come on in.”

Now fear was definitely the fuel that was pumping my pistons, anybody who goes into battle and is not filled with fear is a fool, never underestimate your opponent. But I was remaining calm as a duck on the water; it’s all about controlling the fear. Any yelling, or anything like that, is an obvious sign of fear.

Chip invites me in, and brings me into the living room to meet his Nastiness. He explains he knows me from work and I want to talk with him. Nate’s response was a simple one. “Why the fuck does he want to talk to me? I aint buying none of that shit, and I sure as hell aint trying to sell it.”

My response was “I aint here to sell shit. I’m the guy you tried to rob today. I can’t be having that.”

Nate just looked up at me and said “Either you got to be the stupidest son of a bitch to ever walk the face of the planet or you’re just as gangster as me.”

I didn’t know where the hell this was heading and I was already planning out my attack in my head. He’s sitting down I’m standing. Kick him in the face, grab the 40 bottle on the table smash Chip with it. Then the unexpected happened. He hands me the 40 and says” Drink up Jimmie the Saint.”

I obviously accepted his offer. Over the course of the rest of that evening and well into the next day, I’d sit and drink with and get to know Nate. He explained to me the whole reason he’d done what he did to Hosh. He hated Hosh for all the bullshit gangster shit he always talked and decided to pull his card. He also told me he liked me, because I came to his house on my own, with full knowledge this probally wouldn’t end well, and did it anyway, solo. Nate and I were cut from the same clothe, I’d proved that to him.  We’d become the best of friends and he’d introduce me to my Columbus family. The best group of friends I could have ever possibly hoped to make. A family that would live the stories that I now am telling and make me into what I now am.

The name Jimmie the Saint comes from a movie called Things to do in Denver when you’re dead. This was Nate’s favorite movie. According to Nate I was the epitome of the main character Jimmie the Saint. Me coming to his house all alone in the middle of the night, to draw my line in the sand, was definitely something my big screen counterpart would have definitely done. I owe a ton to Nate Marchese, without him I probably never would have gotten half the respect I got in Columbus. I miss him greatly and really wish he was around to share the spoils of my success with me in the future. But he is not. So now just like in Things to do in Denver when you’re dead, I await to be reunited with Nate and have boat drinks in paradise.  Rest In Power until we meet again. Boat Drinks………

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Comments
  1. Steve-O says:

    Great story and incite into a man I knew only on a surface level. Until reading this, sounds like we lost a good one.

    r.i.p.

  2. rip that meatball loving wildman r$g

  3. ask says:

    This is one of the most incredible blogs Ive read in a very long time. The amount of information in here is stunning, like you practically wrote the book on the subject.

  4. paulie fingers says:

    Today is Superbowl Sunday and nate’s team is ging to win. Man I miss him. He was one of the most real people I ever had the pleasure of calling my best friend. I didn’t know you met him the same way I did.except it was over that kid Bud and my nitrus tank he had took of mine. Miss the hell out of the nasty one. Rest in peace homie. I know he’s saving me a seat. Thanks for posting this again .

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