BUSTED. Be Cool and Pray, Part 3.

By Cash.Nexus · Jun 22, 2012 · ·
  1. Cash.Nexus
    The Bad Guys were given 90% of the script but still fucked up their role in the movie. Cops knew who, where and when...but we skated.

    How did they miss an ounce of heroin, 60% pure Moon Rocks, stashed on my person?

    A magician shouldn't reveal techniques...but it's basically down to another bust a year earlier.

    Preparing for a long train journey, I had 22 small folds of good brown in a snuff-type box, as well as five foils interleaved in a book called "Four Basic Principles To Make Fortune Come Your Way." I never got to read it, but found out one of those principles is not to act like drugs are legal.

    An hour into a 36 hour journey, I was wrenched out of nod by the lapels. Piggy eyes staring into my contracted pupils. One of a pair of cops began a thorough frisk. Just before he got to the cargo pocket with my kit, I thought fuck it and grabbed the box of wraps. Before I could swallow them, the other cop punched my head and grabbed my wrist. The stuff flew in the air and onto other passengers, one lady shielding her baby from the evil shower.

    One cop tore my luggage to pieces, finding nothing. While the other took me to the toilet, for intimacy.

    "This will cost you a thousand dollars, or it's jail. Where's the rest of your money? Only $30 here."
    "There's no 'rest'. I'm a junkie, man, broke."

    He even checked under my balls, in case I had a wad of notes there. Sadly not. Had to be content with whatever stuff they picked up in the carriage, and my pocket dough. He kindly returned $5 for snacks, which I straight away offered back for just one bag of my stuff. Leaving with my drugs and money, he refused indignantly.

    "No. We are the police!"

    The rest of the journey was misery numbed by downers. Amidst a nitrazepam fog, I decided to improve concealment tech.

    This I did by stitching a credit-card-sized pocket inside my jockey shorts. Positioned a thumb length from the button and a finger-width down. The shorts can be maneuvered so that the package is covered by a belt, if worn. It should be safe from a pocket search, and from a ball-grope when cops 'check for an extra nut.'

    Saved my life literally, during a very thorough palm-frisk at Colombo Airport. The penalty for heroin trafficking in Sri Lanka is death; my fat personal supply would have qualified.*

    It also saved me at this Bridge Bust. As my partner in crime was stripped and searched, I was deploying a little charisma. My turn came and I wasn't stripped fully, but of course they wanted to look in my underwear. I undid my belt and jeans and hooked my thumbs in the shorts waistline, palming my stash. Lowering the ensemble, I stretched it out so a cop could look at my groin and down the legs.

    "See? Nothing much there, sad to say, ha-ha."

    As with any trick, it's partly about props but mainly in how the show is presented.

    Of course, the best tricksters seldom need props; they perfect 'mind-control'. But it's hard to control other minds when control of yours is lost to drugs...

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  1. OscarTheGrouch
    It sounds like you know me, "Jedi mind tricks".

    Got away with some shit in my day.

    I was headed north to go visit some family on a bus, passed out as soon as I got on, I knew before I went shit was going to hit the fan and I thought if only I could sleep through this.

    Got to the border, fat bag of dank and dogs alerting, but of course I had no time to wrap my stash propperly(about 2 ounces) and I had it in my cargo shorts with the fuckin top of the Zip Lock Poppin out!!!! Green and yellow.

    Not to mention I sat next to the heater on a winter night and my pocket was bluged quite obviously. Still my sly self played cool, envisioning perfectly calm waters and a mirror like reflection of the moon. I dressed propperly, lookin like an innocent wedo (white dude). They pulled everyone off the bus and there were 10 plus agents walkin around, they took the dog on the bus and it alerted at the seat I was sitting. In the mean time the agents were patting some of the 'suspicious' looking passengers down. It didn't take long for them pull the dog off the bus. I was shivering cold in the center of the crowd of passengers.

    They lined everyone up, I made a point to not be in the front or the back, agents at both ends and the dog at the bus's enterance, an old lady infront of me took it ever so slowly up the stairs, I allowed some distance before I quickly stepped up passed the dog (cargo pocket with stash on my left swang right infront of the dog's nose) and went to my seat. I figured they would think it was strange if I went somewhere else.

    This arab dude with some tacos was sitting next to me, I origanily had window seat, he took that seat I took the seat closer to the isle (left side if facing the front) center of the bus. Agents walked right up to me and asked to search my on board luggage, I had none, "All my stuff is down stairs" looking each other in the eyes for a moment I knew he was still processing, I stared blankly, he moved on to everyone else around me. Searching their bags. I sayed quite. They got to the arab dude next to me and he showed them a bag of tacos. The damn dog musta been hungery I thought, they did to. They imediatly left the bus and told the driver to go. I looked down and thats when I noticed how blatantly obvious it was that I had a stash, it stank, the zip lock was showing at the top of the pocket, it looked like I had a T-shirt in there.

    All they had to do was pat me down, but my boyish charm and innocent look bypassed their profiling technuiqes, they were after gangsters. I stayed calm, they smell fear. I kept it short and sweet, bullshit is in the details, they know this. But most importantly, in my mind, I didn't have anything.
  2. Cash.Nexus
    That's it. Crucial to stay cool with a guilt-free mindset.

    The dog's nose is only as good as it's master's eyes, especially the third eye.

    Note though the possibility of encountering a cop who is also a Jedi. This happened to me once, it was scary. Long story, but basically one of a group of cops was not buying my front.

    Despite being drunk, he read my mind. "You're guilty. You're dirty. I know."

    I denied it, polite and persistent. He brandished a large pistol in my face: "I will fuck you."

    I had to switch tactics, quick. But it was fine, he didn't give a shit I was guilty. He just wanted me to acknowledge his power.
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