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Lance Scurvin’s Favorite Bedtime Crackhead Story: It’s A Family Affair

Sly & The Family Stone – It’s A Family Affair

It’s a family affair………

It’s a family affair……….

It’s a family affair…………..

It’s a family affair……………….

“One child grows up to be somebody that just loves to learn, and another child grows up to be, SOMEBODY YOU’D JUST LOVE TO BURN!”

“Mom loves the both of them, you see it’s in the blood, both kids are good to Mom, bloods thicker than the mud, it’s a family affair…………”

When someone in your inner circle abuses drugs, a family member, a trusted friend, a neighbor etc….. anyone who is close enough for you to be a factor in their schemes to acquire the funds necessary to continue their destructive habit knows the pain that I felt growing up with an older brother who abused drugs like it was going out of style.

I was born in April of ’63, he came into this world in July of ’52, just three months short of being born a full eleven years  apart, I don’t know whether to be happy on his birthday or regret the day he was born. I’m being honest with my feelings, although I am not a hateful person at the core, I find myself right now waking up hours earlier than I should very angry at the most vivid dream that put me in the direct path of one of my brothers very aggressive drug driven money begging schemes.

I feel that my childhood experience and family life was as perfect as anyone else’s with so many pleasant memories that to this day can bring a warm feeling to my heart and an broad unscheduled smile to my face, but nothing is perfect in this world and I would be telling you a bold faced lie if I sat here and told you that the things I had to endure through my brothers drug use at a young age didn’t affect me in a very powerful way.

If truth be told I must tell you how much I love my deceased Mother, but her relationship with my brother showed me first hand how the hidden unseen tactics of enablers work and how complex a relationship can be when you have a substance abuser on the rampage and the enabler who loves them because she was a prime example of one.

If ever I was to be considered a nut or a psycho it comes out when I, at this adult age, are forced by circumstance to deal with a delusional enabler on any level.  And it’s not so much that I am ticked off completely at the enabler, what gets me going is how well the abuser of that enabler has them so well trained to jump and do their bidding at will!

(These next two paragraphs are very abstract so hold on for the ride!)

This goes as far as the enabler making excuses for the massive trail of wrong doings carelessly left by the abuser while they hunt down their next hit or prey without a worry in the world because the enabler will always make a way for them.

They will always have a seat at the table for them. You work hard as a person who is trying to show that you are worthy of respect and trust but the enabler can arrive torn and tattered, bloodied and beaten without as much as a question asked of them about their where a bouts as they take their place alongside you feeling very much entitled to enjoy the goodness of life that they never had to earn!

Maybe I am speaking gibberish but I know that someone out here reads me loud and clear because this is my hidden pain freely flowing.in therapeutic fashion for all the world to see. I look at it as taking an emotional crap, letting go and releasing all of the toxic residue that can and will build up in your heart if you don’t take action to rid yourself of these poisonous elements.

And just like the backed up feces in a bad case of constipation that makes ones breath offensive and bloats ones gut to the point of resembling a woman in her final trimester of pregnancy, these emotions that are held inside without properly expelling them will color your view of the world and eventually cause you sickness.

But I will never allow any dysfunction to thrive around me without speaking on it, that’s like someone passing gas in a crowded room only to hear me compliment the gaseous guilty party on how good the cologne smells that they are wearing while they’re haphazardly farting away like it is okay! ……….

No, its NOT okay stand here contaminating the air I have to breath and the spineless people who are standing around inhaling the “poot” are just as guilty, you WON’T be getting any damn cologne compliments from ME you rude uncultured bastard!

This is why I have so many haters that happen to be used to the company of enablers! They can’t have their way with me and get really angry after I school their former enablers to the game that’s being run on them!

Like I said before I know someone is out here feeling these words! In my case of growing up around my brothers tricks, it gave me the greatest lessons on the inner workings of dysfunctions overall because although it was drugs in the case of my brother it might be a situation that deal with an alcohol abuse issue in yours.

While in another it could be a wife who uses sex to control the husband and his finances or the promise of everlasting companionship to a woman who suffers from a bad case of daddy hunger and gives too much to the manipulative men who detect this void and use that against her to their advantage.

We all have our unique inroads into this intangible world of manipulation, dysfunction, substance abuse and blame. Its one big swirl that can suck you in at any point but as it does you will quickly learn the other components as I did observing the conundrums of my brothers nomadic lifestyle.

What made it so bad was that he is college educated, well spoken, knowledgeable in all current events, foreign and domestic, charismatic, personable, perfectly groomed, he is very engaging as he mastered the art of conversation and would always find an attractive “hook” to grab your mind and pull you in.

His intellectual range and chameleon-like abilities were second to none! I’ve personally witnessed him bedazzle arrogant corporate bigwigs with his unique input into their business matters that challenged their well groomed minds and just as quickly turn around within an hour or two, don his street garb to paralyze the brothers on the Harlem street corners with his gifted words of grimy street knowledge delivered in such a lethal never ending rapid fire cadence that will leave even the most hardened ex-con frozen in his tracks!

Fascinating stuff, isn’t it? And I have to admit, as much as my witnessing the effects of his drug abuse made me run in life’s opposite direction to become fanatical as to everything that I consumed into my precious body, his positive effect on my psyche at the same time was undeniable. I always possessed an intense admiration for his social/ intellectual abilities that didn’t mix well with the the level of disgust I had that cut so deeply to my core for the destructive  habit that he always maintained!

Seeing my brother constantly reading the Wall street Journal and the New York Times, then turn around to see him just as intensely absorbing the words and ghetto philosophies of Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines let me know at a young age that all perspectives were equally important as long as the one sharing their story spoke from the heart.

This is what made him such a lethal and undetectable conman, let me tell you! As much as I could warn you about his drug driven skills to literally hypnotized you into reaching for your wallet or purse to GIVE him what he set you up to give, you will nine times out of ten KNOW that you are doing the wrong thing but find yourself in zombie like fashion giving up your hard earned funds because he is JUST THAT GOOD!

And the funny thing is that he would NEVER ask you for money!

He’s one of those guys that the CIA would secretly hire even after knowing his dealings in the ghetto netherworld but would still set him up with an apartment, a regular allowance, a car, lots of drugs  and a couple of sexy hood-rat chicken-heads to keep him on retainer in case they needed someone of his vast skill level for their covert governmental purposes!

Before I sign off on my rant on this personal issue,  let me share with you a tale as to how cold, calculating and diabolical he really is.

My mother suffered two strokes, one in 1993, and the other one in 1994. The one in ’94 proved fatal, she was brain dead immediately and was on life support equipment that kept her breathing for weeks until I finally realize that she was truly gone. I felt that although her body was artificially kept alive with the oxygen pumped in and out of her, her soul could not go free and who was I to hold her back from going on to the level for my own selfish reasons? That being said, I hadn’t seen my brother for almost a year. The last time I had seen him, I went on a rampage at my mothers house when I realized that unbeknownst to her, he was slipping dozens of crackhead females a night past her bedroom door on the second floor of her house while she rested.

This was just after her first stroke……..

She was kind enough (Or foolish!) to let him stay on the floor above hers in the finished attic apartment “until he gets on his feet”, but isn’t that always the case with people who use enablers? They will NEVER get on their feet until you are OFF of yours from being tired and broken down in helping them as they drain you of your resources until you draw you last breath! This was a classic case!

Well I found out the reason he brought those characters up in the attic of my mothers house was because he let them “trick” with men for money!

Do you understand what I just said?

Maybe you don’t so allow me to clarify my expression in better terms that you can easily digest: My brother brought these slimy disease ridden woman to the attic of my mothers house at night so that these women can have a place to have sex with these strange anonymous men that in turn would “pay” my brother for the privilege of doing business their with either a few dollars or better yet some crack to smoke!

I was tipped off by a neighborhood crack dealer who refused to ever sell anything to him out of respect to my family because he grew up with us often eating dinner at our table and doing homework with me and viewed my mother as his and just couldn’t do it. He told me how the  operation went down in my mothers house and asked that his name be kept out of it. Not a problem I told him.

Now feeling like Sylvester Stallone’s macho mythical character, John Rambo, I got inside early and quietly took my position on the darkened first floor of the house and watched outside carefully through the venetian blinds as the sun went down, signaling for the nightlife of the streets to come alive!  And everything that my crack dealer friend told me would happen would transpire just as he said!

A car would pull up in front of the house, out came the crackhead prostitute, looking tattered, funky and drunk, eyes BEET red, wearing some dirty jeans and a scarf around her head complete with that universal crackhead herky jerky nervous body movement that indicated malfunctions and extreme damage to her nerve synapses. The man would usually stay in the car until after she threw a few pebbles to the attic window and got the “a okay” that my mother was fast asleep and the coast was clear.

The “John” was usually some weird looking white dude that could never get a blow-job on his own rap game and possessed a timid demeanor because he probably had a career of high standing and would be crushed if caught in this sodomite styled setup!  If not that type, it was some dirty mechanic looking pot bellied older black man that sported a wedding band for a marriage to a wife who “didn’t do those freaky things”.

After the front door key was tossed down for their entry, they would open the front door not knowing that I was RIGHT THERE lurking in the shadows and cover of darkness pissed off at the unforgivable violation of my wonderful God fearing mothers house.

Holding hands in one of the most twisted visuals that I could ever imagined seeing, they crept slowly up the stairs and by the way this woman avoided the squeaks in expert fashion, it told me that she had done this many time before and knew the drill WELL! Now I was really boiling because I watched this happen about 7 more times and 25 minutes hadn’t even passed yet!

I’ve seen enough! It was time for some action! I knew at least 15 people were now upstairs in my mothers house and if I stood there in shock and didn’t do anything that there would be so much more people coming.

I don’t know, maybe I flipped out or maybe it was temporary insanity, but everything started going in slow motion as I retied my Timberland’s TIGHT, put on my black leather gloves with the fingers cut out and tied the waistband of my thick black Carhartt sweat bottoms tight as well as my Carhartt hooded black top.

I grabbed my aluminum baseball bat and open the front door WIDE to allow anyone else who wanted to join the party to just come on in. Feel free muthafuckers………!

Tiptoeing up those carpeted steps effortlessly because of my adrenalized rage let me know to slow down as to not give my presence away just yet. I am now on the second floor and no one has a clue as to the disaster that is about to happen.

I couldn’t pass my sleeping mothers bedroom door without peeking in on her to make sure she was sleeping soundly, my eyes had already adjusted to the darkness and was not ready for the blinding glow of the television screen that she used to love to fall asleep to with the volume down low. I found she did this more so after my father passed away four years earlier.

She was in the bed on her side facing in my direction with the television behind her, so at first I couldn’t make out her features because her head eclipse the bright television screen, so as I looked closer at her face as my eyes adjusted, I could see that her eyes were open with tears streaming down her face!

She knew it was me!

She knew all along what was going on!

She never wanted to tell me because she knew someone would die!

As I drew closer to make sure what I was seeing, she said to me in the most loving voice of someone who just got rescued from a life threatening situation………: “Thank you”…..

I started to cry as her words validated my purpose and the rage within me grew to accompany my mission.

I said: “Mommy, it’s gonna be alright! Don’t panic because there about to be a lot of noise up in here! She slowly nodded in agreement as I locked her in the safety of her room.

I thought it was appropriate that the music video “Fight The Power” by Public Enemy was playing on the television behind her, and although the volume was down and I couldn’t hear a thing, I still heard it in my heart as I now faced the staircase that would bring me to the house cleaning that needed to be done.

What I first noticed was how quiet everything upstairs was, and although I didn’t get to the top of the steps yet, I knew how many people were up there and just couldn’t believe they didn’t make a sound! As my now hooded dome slowly peeked over the partition to view the inner workings of a real crack house setup, it baffled me as the first thing I noticed as my eyes had to readjust to the darkness was the small glowing fire in the crack pipes that grew in intensity as the smoker inhaled.

Everyone sat on the floor as I watched one crackhead girl with her pants off ride this white man furiously as he grimaced in pleasure while she smoked away! A Latina chick, on her knees about five feet over from where I stood, performed the most intense blow-job on this Middle Eastern man, she slurped, sucked and orally assaulted this older mans organ as though she were terribly sick and his eventual climax contained the sole antidote.

I noticed not one condom in these filthy and very risky transactions!

Three feet over from her, I saw that same funky crackhead that came in first, on her knees doggy style, catching it from behind from another guy that came with someone else.

As my eyes got focused in the dark, I saw it all! The “joys” of crack in all its glory! The broken dreams and empty promises. The crying mothers and the stolen goods. The hungry babies and neglected parental duties. My fist clenched that baseball bat as I felt like a panther, poised to devour its prey in one of those nature programs on a Sunday afternoon…….

.

All of this I internalized forever in my mind to relive. Now all I could think about was how low my sibling could be to do such a thing over his mothers head………

I shouted with every ounce of strength I could muster:

HEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!

The cracked out occupants and their johns all jumped like the roaches in a ghetto project apartment when you cut the lights on in the kitchen! And like an old roach in a new kitchen, they didn’t know WHERE to run because I stood at the only entrance! What shocked me was that for the moment I stood transfixed at the chemically driven lurid sex displays, three shadowy figures stood behind me eerily quiet on the stairwell just waiting to join the festivities.

Well who was I to not grant them their wish? They fell like dominoes in what seemed like an eternity after I kicked the closet one right in his mouth! My baseball bat took on a life of its own as I swung at every available skull that came my way. I know that I am not a violent person and would rather settle things on a more intellectual level. But tell that to a mother whose daughter just got raped! Tell that to a grandson whose grandfather just got mugged. Settling things intellectually and peacefully is the way to go but sometimes I think the dear Lord turns his back in certain situations when those GRAND violations happen to innocent law abiding people.

…….and I think this was one of them.

For the next 90 seconds I brought myself to the point of exhaustion from the butt whipping that rivaled the best Bruce Lee group level fight scene, not that I was some great fighter or something, but the level of intensity that moment possessed would be one of the things I speak on when I’m an old man in a rocking chair sharing my tales with others trying to top each others. It’s a shame that we didn’t have You Tube back then!

The screaming, the pushing, the terror,  the cursing that transpired as I watched these half naked crackheads and “in shock tricks” run past me, down the steps and flooding out into the streets left the ransacked apartment in a wreck with only my brother left to try to talk his way out of this one. It’s funny, we are eleven years apart in age and it was at that moment that I felt more mature than him, older than him and more responsible, although I had already displayed those traits for years.

He walked out of the darkness of his room and into the open living room that reeked of crack, slowly walked up to me and said ever so calmly: “It’s alright brother, it’s alright, I can’t believe you would even do something like this to me but it’s alright.”

Standing there in shock as to how he could be so cool in the midst of my now simmering rage, he walked right past me, down the steps and into the night with the rest of his friends while I flipped the light on to take note of the carnage that I knew I would have to clean up.

Crack pipes still lit, a bra, two pairs of panties, popcorn tossed all over the floor as well as three pairs of woman’s shoes that didn’t match were just a few of the things that were haphazardly left out and about as the tsunami called Lance Scurvin did what every loving son should do when there mother was taken advantage of whether she enabled it or not, your mother is STILL your mother.

No brother, no friend, no woman, no man, no fame, no amount of money and no position of power should EVER come between that!

It’s a family affair………

It’s a family affair……….

It’s a family affair……..

It’s a family affair……

“One child grows up to be somebody that just loves to learn, and another child grows up to be SOMEBODY YOU’D JUST LOVE TO BURN!”

“Mom loves the both of them, you see it’s in the blood, both kids are good to Mom, bloods thicker than the mud, it’s a family affair…………”

P.S: As an addendum to this posting I must share the news that I found out that my brother was released from Riker’s Island in New York City in May of 2009. Dear Lord! Aside from my children and cousin Laurel and family, he is the only family that I have as far as immediate kin who can go way back with me and reflect on my past as no other person can! Will my pain in this area ever end? Maybe not. But for those of you who are blessed to have brothers and sisters who are doing well PLEASE love them, cherish them, and thank God that you have the blessing of THEM! Because they are the precious few who are able to reflect the light of your parents, upbringing and past from their unique positioning. I have always yearned for that and never once had it except for the fleeting moments when he wasn’t chasing that elusive high that doesn’t exist! So if you have someone with an addiction in your family or closed social circle always look to help them find PROFESSIONAL help. But always know that God gave YOU your life and it would be an insult to spend your life enabling someone who will use you up and suck you down and continue on for many years afterward in their addiction LONG after you have been laid to rest and have passed on! I KNOW this because I have lived it by seeing MY dear Mother long gone while the foolishness continues on………

It’s a pain that is my constant companion and a yearning that you could never understand……..

Thank you for your time……..

Lance “Scurv” Scurvin


Contact Lance Scurvin At LanceScurv@yahoo.com

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About The Author

Culture Critic, Podcast Host, Blogger, Cartoonist & Social Media Activist who focuses on the issues that the Mainstream Media is deathly afraid to touch! Call/Text Direct: 407.590.0755

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