Me and Bruno – Chapter 1
Preview from Ron and Bruno: Against the Doctatorship
Bruno and I have known each other since our twenties. If you’d met us during the first few years of our friendship, you’d never guess we knew each other. Bruno wore jeans, a Pendleton, and army boots, while I looked like I’d just walked out of a business meeting. And our differences didn’t end there.
Bruno’s knowledge of the darker side of Seattle brought me to a more skeptical view of the world, a world of cronies and criminals. Maybe he got his information from overhearing the bosses down at the union hall, or from the regulars at the Doghouse Restaurant and Bar. Fact is, it could have been any number of places, Seattle has a large underbelly. But the stories he told me? I’d rather not have heard. It felt like my ears were burning, hearing the evil of the city just north of our suburb. But they were stories I needed to hear. Leave it to Beaver was a TV show. America was not like that. The America I thought I knew was a creation of Hollywood. Oh, there’s a good Old America, hidden in small towns, independent churches and families where people read the Bible and pray. But Bruno’s frankness about the world opened my eyes to the fact that there is a hidden government in every big city, one that cares more about political donors than citizens. Bruno knew of the corruption that was taking place in Seattle, even before the grand jury indictments of the 1970s. At least 260 so-calledcops were indicted. So called, because wherever there is something of great value, there will be counterfeits. And a real cop certainly is someone of great value. A dirty cop isn’t a cop at all. A dirty cop is a fake cop. Just like a lying reporter is a fake reporter. The only thing real about them is their prop: a camera for a fake news reporter, a badge for a dirty cop, and now an FBI badge for a stooge of the Communist National Committee. Oops, I forgot. They like to be called Progressives.
But I made up for my ignorance of political crimes with my knowledge of street crimes. I’d been driving taxi for years and had come across my share of criminals, of which Seattle had no shortage. And every so often, I’d share one of my stories with Bruno. Here’s one of them.
“So, me and my passenger are standing next to the cab and I’m waiting for him to pay me, but instead, he pulls out a chain. So I pulled out my .38 and say, ‘You just gave me permission to shoot you.’ Then he drops his chain and I say, ‘Take off your shoes.’ ‘What?’ He says. Now my gun’s still in my hand and I say, ‘I respectfully request that you take off your shoes.’ So, he takes ‘em off, and I say, ‘Walk that way and don’t turn around.’ So, he hunches over as he walks in the direction I pointed, as if I’m gonna shoot him in the back. So I pick up his chain. I get in the cab. I put it in reverse. And I slowly back it around the corner. Then quietly I drive away. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t see my cab. He doesn’t see my cab number. Who knows what that creep would have told the cops. No sense calling them. You know the rules. Never assume the cop will believe your side of the story.” Then I took out the chain to show it to Bruno and said, “I think he’d been a lot worse off if he’d pulled this chain on you.”
Bruno replied, “You’re not kidding! I’d a let him swing that chain around my wrist and used it to jerk his scrawny face toward me. Then I’d smash it in!” We both laughed. Bruno had a knack for delivering a clear and concise message. I’m sure he’d have done exactly that if he’d been the driver.
So that was me and Bruno in our twenties. By the time we were in our sixties, he’d been married once, and I’d been married twice. But a funny thing happened, rather than become more jaded, we’d become more idealistic. Seeing Trump turn our Nation around was not just heartening, it was exciting and fun. We loved the way he handled the fake news. And the more the fake news attacked him, the more we trusted Trump. It was a sad day when we all had the election stolen from us.
It had been over 20 years since I’d moved away from Seattle, but Bruno and I kept in contact with frequent phone calls. It was just a 3-hour flight from Phoenix Sky Harbor to SeaTac, but this was my first trip back.
I hated Seattle, but Bruno’s mom had passed away and I was flying up to help him with paperwork. I was providing moral support more than anything.
Now that you know a little bit about Bruno and me. I’d better introduce you to who I am today. I’m Ron, Ron Miller. I haven’t driven taxi in 35 years, and I don’t miss it. I write Christian stories that teach children good morals. I’ve had major tragedies in my life but my trust in God has only gotten stronger. The Bible is my reference book and guide for how I look at everything in life. I read it daily. I’m a sinner saved by grace, and I pray like I talk, a lot. So, here’s my story.
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