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Have You Ever Thought of Killing Yourself

(This is the Book Excerpt that tell the story about how the the sheriffin Parkland, Washington was used to try to commit me to a mental institution.)

One day the bitch from next door came over to pound on my door and complain about hearing my bass. Instead of just letting her get on my case, I snapped back at her, "Do you actually think I like living in this cage? Do you think it's my choice to live here?"
     "Well I'm going to call the police than," she said. "Go ahead," I said in return. (I think I just drove off one time and left the scene.) Check Journal The next time the same kind of thing happened, but I didn't leave, I just waited for the cop to arrive. A squad car from the Sheriff's department pulled up into the drive way, out stepped a big guy. He was quit polite and understanding.
       I got into my spiel and tried to push my 35 page booklet on to him, but he wouldn't take it. I said, "You probably already have one down at the station."
       He said, "Maybe."
       I didn't actually bitch him out personally, but I sure passionately let him know how disgusted I was with the local government he worked for. He got the strange look on his face and asked, "Have you ever thought of committing suicide before?"
       I laughed and said, "Hell no. That's what they wanted me to do though. I'm smarter than that."
       He let me yell all I wanted and as the noise complaint was concerned; he let me off with a warning. About an hour later the cop showed up at my place again, not only with another cop, but also with three women. The women were from the Pierce County Crisis Clinic. As soon as I learned where they were from I knew the pending questions I was about to be asked. If you would have asked me, it was a dead giveaway because of the extra cop. "Hold on," I said, "Let me get my journal, since you are all public officials, I want to get your names so I can put them in my book." Laughing I stepped inside my trailer and came out with my journal in hand. The girls had business cards so that made it even easier.
      As far as the cops, I didn't care because I figured they probably had phony badges if they had a special scheme in mind. I figured the real way to get their name is through police records at some point in time down the road. The extra cop stood in the background as he let the original officer introduce the girls. "How in hell do you think you can help me?"
      "We felt you might need someone to talk to," said another. I said, "Talking isn't going to do a bit of good as far as paying my rent and putting food on the table, not is it?"
     They couldn't respond to that question because anyone would know they weren't sent out to my place to hand out money. "I know something you could do; find me a job. And one that doesn't require a good foot!"
       They knew it they couldn't help me with anything that would do any good, I knew it, they knew it; therefore what was the point of them trying to come up with an answer to the question? As you could say, they were useless as well as speechless at that point. My truck was parked naked between my trailer and the shop so they all had to stand around it. All but one of the girls were standing in front of my porch as dealt out the questions to them, but the oldest gal kept her distance by standing over by the big cop at the rear of my truck as it sat backed into the driveway between the shop and my trailer. One of the younger girls spoke up again saying, "Well, we were hoping that we might help you by talking things over with you."
       As I stood on my make shift porch in front of them I said, "What are you going to do, tell me my problems are a result of how I was raised as a child?"
     As I was pacing back and forth I found myself doing my spiel about the conspiracy all over again. Then I decided to put the cops on the spot and said, "I'll tell you how you can help me. Why don't you read my lousy book?"
      They shrugged their shoulders as a response and one mumbled something about not having time to. We can all assume they were going to weasel out of reading it no matter what I said. "Come on, you’ve got plenty of time to read it! Crimes have been committed andthey're listed right in here. You're cops now aren't you?"
      They snibbled again, shrugging their shoulders and saying nothing in return. "Then why can't you do anything about it. Why can't you even try?" (No answers again.)
      "Yeah, it's because you work for a bunch of crooks. If you went to them with my book, they would throw the dam book back in your face, because they have it already. They know what is in it and they're not about to do a fucking thing about it! I was trying to make them feel like fools because I knew they couldn't arrest me and send me off to the loony bed as long as I answered the questions right. When the older gal at the rear of my truck asked me the question: "Have you ever thought of killing yourself?"
      "Hell no!"
      "Are you happy with yourself?"
       "Hell I love myself. Shit why would I want to kill myself? I'm a lucky man and a smart one at that. Heck, I'm driving the work truck of the future and you all are going to have to pay me for one, even though you don't even have them yet. Why in hell would I want to kill myself if I'm going to be the richest man in the world?"
      I began pacing back and forth on my porch yelling at the top off my lungs, "Shit, I heard if you kill yourself, you go straight to hell. Now why would I want to do that? I'm living in hell already. You say I should be happy? Tell me, would you be happy if you had to living next door to people who work for the city and they climb over their fence to snoop around in your home whenever they wanted to? Would you be happy if you lost your house to a fucked up fire department. Lose your butt because the government rigs your phone and runs your business into the ground. Hell, I've got to be happy; I got a life far more interesting than yours!"
      The cops started to back out a bit and made up an excuse as if they had to get going. "Yeah, you can't do anything to help me and you’re wasting tax payer's money coming around here like this. Your boss is just another one of the crooks involved in this conspiracy. You try to do anything and you'll be sitting without a job."
      As they were departing one of the girls said, "We fill sorry for you."
      I said, "Feel sorry for your selves. Your housing already cost more than it should because you’re over here making a freak-show out of the whole deal instead of doing anything to help me or your selves. You already bought the dam truck. All you got out of it is bigger house payments and higher property taxes. I feel sorry for you."
        As the girls walked away to get in their car, I manage to get them to except one of my books. (I think at 65 pages.) Within the next day or two, I tried calling one of the girls. I realized it wasn't even possible to get in contact with them. Apparently something was funny how third card was so genetic; I figured that they somehow were working for the city.
        A few days later I received a visit from the two younger girls. They wanted to see how I was doing and I assured them I was alright. I was doing alright considering that I'd just smoked a bowl and I was more upbeat without cops hanging around. I'm sure they realized the tantrum I threw during their visit earlier was an act because the cops were there. They too seemed different and I guess it had something to do with the fact that they had read my book and because of it they understood the things I was going through better than any knowledge they would have got by asking the conventional sicky questions. I informed them that they had been used by the crooks they worked for.
      I said, "Those cops brought you girls around for the sole purpose of trying to get me to say that I'd thought about committing suicide. If I would have said anything of that sort, they would have had me wrapped up in a strait jacket in a heartbeat and it's why there was a backup cop though the one had been by himself earlier. They would have used your testimony to throw me in the funny farm."
       They looked back at me with a creepy expression on their faces as if they realized I was probably right. No doubt, they were witnessing something going on that people don't experience every day, especially in their profession. They knew they had gotten sucked into a big conspiracy game and it was the real deal, not just a poor boy against a bad cop story and there was nothing they could do to help me. I asked what they thought of the book and they said, "Gee you've been through a lot, we feel sorry for you. Wish we could do something for you."
        One thing they expressed was something I didn't expect at that point in the game. One said as the other nodded in agreement, "You're a good writer."