Welcome back, believers. Get ready for episode 8 of the Crossing Guard Tapes. We are coming to you from an undisclosed location. What you are about to hear is true. This is an unauthorized account taken from the diary of Mike Limbo from his time as an operative in a deep state organization known as the Guards of the Realm. Mike is running out of time. He needs our hope and support. Help us get the word out. Join us as we bring you episode 8 of the Crossing Guard Tapes.
Speaker 2:November 23, 1988. This morning after breakfast, a few guys in suits and ties came in to have a little talk with me. I tried to ask them some questions but they gagged me before I could finish. One of them jammed a rag in my mouth, while another ran a couple laps of duct tape around my face's neck. They told me we talk, you listen, there were three of them. All together they look like FBI agents with their suits, their sunglasses and their fancy haircuts, like that guy on Hawaii 5-0. They were all business with their yes sirs, no sirs. They were serious all the time, kind of like me and Eddie were with our kids. We weren't fucking around, and neither were these guys. You have to respect that. After they gagged me, one of them started poking me in the chest with his finger like he's trying to pop a hole in my fucking rib cage. He gets right in my face and says what in the fuck were you and your?
Speaker 1:buddy thinking when you showed up at that party and started beating the hell out of your fellow crossing guards.
Speaker 4:Crossing guards are your own people, you ignorant shit.
Speaker 2:I figured he was the boss because he was the biggest and the loudest and he had some sort of badge hanging from the pocket of his suit coat. Then he opened his briefcase and took out a whole shitload of file folders and held them up for me to see.
Speaker 4:Look, I got a ton of shit on you, and I'd be honest if I told you that it's not worth the paper at Spray. You're one sorry ass, little turd. The fight terminated. You right now, nobody but nobody would give half a crap. You've been a total pain in the ass from day one.
Speaker 2:Man, was he pissed off. He started off speaking in a normal voice but by the time he was finished he was practically screaming at me. His face was so red I thought he was gonna pop a fucking vein in his neck. My face was dripping with his spit when he finished. It made me sick to my stomach actually. I gagged a couple times. I wish he would have died of a fucking heart attack right then and there. If I wasn't gagged. I would have told him so right to his fucking face, that fucking face. But he didn't stop there. He goes. Do you have any?
Speaker 4:idea what kind of shit you're dealing with and how deep in it you are right now Buster.
Speaker 2:I must have shook my head. No, because he kept right on screaming as a matter of fact, your neck deep in shit right now and you're half a turn away from drowning in it.
Speaker 2:Just then Mr Jakeman came into the room. To my surprise, the other three turned around to salute him. My jaw just about dropped to the floor. I couldn't believe it. I mean, mr Jakeman, I had absolutely no idea he was even in the military or a prison warden, or whatever the fuck he was. The salute caught my attention too. They saluted with just two fingers. It seemed kind of odd at the time, but then I remembered that we used to use the two-fingered salute in Cub Scouts. They stood there at attention waiting for him to respond. Finally he saluted back and said At easeman Boy, was I glad to see him. I tried to talk, but before I knew it Mr Jakeman jumped up and gave me a full-on taekwondo kick right in the nuts. I swear to God, I was seeing stars after that. And then I blacked out.
Speaker 2:They threw a cup of cold water on my face to bring me to though.
Speaker 4:I owe you that and a few more, just like it.
Speaker 2:He said I thought he was making a joke. Turns out that he wasn't. So, mr Jakeman says.
Speaker 4:I wanted to fire your sorry ass so many times, but the bosses wouldn't let me. They told me to keep an eye on you and report back to them. I told them that I thought you were way too old to be trained, but they disagreed. You're lucky. They could have had you liquidated long ago if they wanted. You're the perfect candidate. No family, no friends, well, and reprobates like yourself. No one would have missed you. Like I said, you're one lucky son of a bitch. Funny thing is.
Speaker 2:I wasn't feeling all that lucky at the moment. Next, he reached over and grabbed the corner of the duct tape that was stuck across my mouth from ear to ear.
Speaker 4:He grinned and said this is gonna hurt you a lot more than it's gonna hurt me.
Speaker 2:Then he yanked the duct tape off, grinning like a five year old in a candy shop. It hurt like fucking shit. It hurt like shit Tore all the loose skin off my lips and blood drip down my chin. Ouch, ouch, mother fuck, mother fuck. What a sadistic motherfucker. Then he mumbled something in Latin or some sort of shit like the crap they talk in church, and gave me a kiss right on the lips what the fuck? Then the other three did the same thing. They all kissed me and said the same stuff that Mr Jakeman said. You know the Latin church stuff. I figured it was all over by then. I've seen that stuff in the movies, where the mafia dude gives his friend the kiss of death and then blows his head off with a machine gun.
Speaker 4:Instead, he said you are now a member of the guards of the crossing and hold the rank of guard of the realm, Michael Limbo first class.
Speaker 2:I could not believe it. I definitely wasn't sure whether I even wanted to join their club in the first place, but the way I figure it, it was way better than being killed. Then they told me I would have to start going to school and taking classes. They also said that I'd have to get in shape and the training would begin immediately. To top it off, they said that I'd have to start wearing a uniform. Mr Jakeman told me.
Speaker 4:You must wear your uniform proudly at all times. If you're caught out of the uniform, appropriate measures will be taken. Do you understand? And I said, yeah, sure, from now on you will answer. Yes, sir, do you read me?
Speaker 2:Mr Jakeman just stood there in front of me waiting for a response. Yes, sir, I replied. What else was I going to do? I just wanted them all to leave before they started kissing me again or God knows what else. They saluted me and left All of them, except for guard of the realm Hansen. He was just a cadet like me. Mr Jakeman told him to show me around. He didn't seem too happy about it.
Speaker 4:Though he goes, let's get down to brass tacks. We've already wasted enough time today.
Speaker 2:Then he told me to follow him to the barracks. He was trying hard to sound like a tough guy, but his voice was just so wimpy I guess he'll take practically anybody in this place. He kind of looked like a scared rat, a pear shaped scared rat. I couldn't tell how old he was, but I guess he was probably in his mid to late twenties. I wasn't sure he was trying to grow a mustache to make himself look like a hard ass, but it just looked like peach fuzz. Maybe you'll have better luck with that in a few years After a spals drop. Come on. I tried following Hansen the best I could, considering that I had been bound and gagged for however fucking long. My legs started cramping up immediately. I could barely move him. Hansen kept shooting dirty, looks back at me and looking at me like I was weak. Fuck him Fucking hurt, though In a way his dirty looks kind of got me going. Just what I fucking needed to let a fat ass like him make me feel like a wimp. I sucked in my gut and kept walking.
Speaker 1:Even though it fucking hurt like a motherfucker.
Speaker 2:I actually forgot about my pain for a while as I looked around at my new home. It was impressive. The hallways were wide Wide enough to drive a truck through. Couple of them. Side by side, the walls were covered in white tile. Floor was covered in white tile, ceiling was covered in white tile. Everything was white and super clean looking like a dentist's office Made it feel cold and drafty.
Speaker 2:He led me down corridor after corridor, past all kinds of offices, laboratories and classrooms. I never would have imagined how huge this place was. It's not that big. I asked Hansen what all this shit was. He actually totally annoyed, like I was an idiot, for not knowing this is district 18. He said and kept on walking. Keep up, it looks like some kind of school. He shot back a dirty look.
Speaker 4:District 18 is the school, a university actually.
Speaker 2:A university. That's what I said. Any more stupid questions, or can we keep going? Not right now, do shit. We came to a bank of elevators where a uniform guard was standing Holding the door open for us. We got on and I leaned back against the wall. Oh, felt good to take the weight off my aching legs. Some doctor and nurse type people tried to get on our car, but the guard warned them off. This car is out of service.
Speaker 2:He told them. He pressed a button and the door started to close as the doctors protested.
Speaker 1:What do you mean? It's out of service. Come on man, just let me out.
Speaker 2:Hey, hey, come on. The guard was having none of that.
Speaker 4:This car is out of service. Take the next one. Thank you.
Speaker 2:I'm going to lead you. Where am I, I'm sorry? And the doors closed. Despite their moaning about it. Come on man. The elevator ride seemed to go down forever. My ears even popped a few times on the ride down and my knees buckled once or twice, but I caught myself in the nick of time when it finally stopped moving we got out and went through a few checkpoints when uniform guards checked our IDs and made us walk through metal detectors. What is this place, I asked? Hansen rolled his eyes.
Speaker 4:We're in the pits.
Speaker 2:The pits, district 35, the barracks. My legs were wobbly and unsteady and I felt like they were on the verge of falling out from underneath me. I had to lean against the walls to steady myself as I stumbled down the hallways. I was still wearing my Halloween costume too, so I felt like a fucking idiot. I must have looked something like a crippled grim reaper If I wasn't hurting so much. I would have felt like a total jackass.
Speaker 2:Everyone saluted Hanson as they walked past, but just kind of rolled their eyes at me, and I could hear them snickering behind my back. I actually did fall once. I tripped and hit my head on the concrete floor. Goddamn did it hurt, practically knocked my brains out on the floor. I tried to get up, but my body just wouldn't budge. Hanson didn't budge either. He just watched me laying there for a while, acting annoyed. Finally, when it was obvious that I could not get up by myself, he grabbed me by the arm, picked me up and shoved me into a room where a bunch of men in white lab coats were waiting. They grabbed me and wrestled me into a chair like the kind you see in the dentist's office. They pinned me down and held me so I couldn't move a muscle. I closed my eyes. I tried to put up a fight, but they had me good. One dude came at me and I screamed I am guard of the realm, limbo, first class. The guy goes piped down, you're just getting a haircut. They didn't hear another peep out of me until they were finished.
Speaker 2:Afterwards, hanson took me to my new quarters in the barracks. He showed me my bed, which was in a long rectangular room lined with about a dozen bunks. I was in row 5, bottom bunk. My name had already been painted on the locker next to my bunk. Inside the locker was a pair of tan camouflage fatigues, matching camouflage underwear and one pair of shiny black leather army boots. Laying right on top of my new clothes was a fancy looking book, like an encyclopedia or something. The book itself felt very solid, like it could stop a bullet. It was bound in a dark red leather cover which was puffy and smooth to the touch. It must have weighed at least 20 pounds. The front cover had some seriously weird stuff printed on it, some fancy gold lettering that I could barely read, which, once I could make it out, said the guards of the crossing. You could actually run your fingers over it and feel it. It was cut so deep into the leather. Underneath the lettering was a silhouette of an owl with its wings spread out and one of its claws outstretched as if it were attacking something. The other claw was clutching a crossing guard stop sign. I almost felt like I was holding an old, dusty Bible, like the one my grandma had.
Speaker 2:I used to like checking it out when we went to visit her at Christmas time or at funerals. It had all these weird old-timey paintings that Moses Guy and the Ten Commandments, noah's Ark, shit like that. Those were really strange. People used to dress so fucking weird Memoir dresses, but so did the women. To each his own, I guess.
Speaker 2:Then there were all the Roman guys with the helmets whipping the hell out of old Jesus the crucifixion. The one that really got me was the crown of thorns, the blood dripping down his face. That must have stung like a motherf-. I gotta stop using these words, especially around all this God stuff. But the stuff I really like to check out were all the pictures of the baby Jesus. For some reason there were always lots of naked chicks with huge, wide asses hanging around. I used to look through those for hours on end. I mean, what else is there to do at grandma's house? And no one ever said a word about it. Leave me alone. I'm reading the friggin Bible and now this book felt kinda like that, like it was full of holy hocus, pocus stuff, but I didn't really want to look through it or jerk off to it, I just wanted to put it back in the locker where it belonged.
Speaker 1:You have just heard episode 8 of the Crossing Guard tapes. We are shutting down our transmitter now to prevent the DOJ from tracing our signal and, dear listeners, due to the FBI's unrelenting effort to recover the tapes, there is a risk that they could be monitoring our site. So be sure to keep a low profile when sharing, subscribing and liking. Until next time. Co-conspirators, stay alive and spread the word. The Crossing Guard tapes was written and produced by Jim Waters, featuring the voice talents of Tommy Nicolai, pat Waters, cliff Taylor, anthony Degrassia and Jazz Garowall, with original music from Pendulum Incorporated. All support and marketing courtesy of Jazz Garowall. The number you have dialed has been changed. The new number is Deep State Chronicles.