Tin Can Louie
Originally Written: July 12, 2008
This is and will most likely remain my classiest story to date, so it only makes sense that I use British English spelling rather than American if I want to do the post justice. So here now is the not-so-humourous tale of how Louie got his nickname ‘Tin Can Louie’:
Decades ago, in the centre of Staten Island, Willowbrook State School was built to house a couple thousand mentally retarded people. The officials and employees treated these retards awfully, overcrowding them, sexually abusing them, and kicking their arses. These offenses continued until 1972 when Geraldo Rivera came to the mentally ill’s defense. Once the world saw the unfavourable behaviour occuring at Willowbrook, it only took another fifteen years before the place was shut down.
The government wasn’t sure what to do with all these now-homeless challenged people so it offered money to any locals who would take them in—like foster parents. While some genuinely wanted to help these mistreated citizens, others wanted those government checks. In many instances, the government would give monthly checks to families who would house these retards but just minimally enough to keep the money. At eight AM they’d kick the retards out into the neighbourhood, give them two bucks for lunch, and wouldn’t let them back in until eight PM. They wanted to see them as little as possible, and would spend as little of that government money on them as possible. Bloody hell.
So what would these retarded refugees do during the day? Obviously, that’s where OTB comes in. No cover charge, heating and/or air conditioning, a dozen TVs, and plenty of people to talk to. These guys barely knew what horse racing was, but they quickly learned, or pretended to learn. A few of the customers with consciences gave these Willowbrooks a buck or two to bet. A lot of OTB employees would do the same, or have the Willowbrooks get them a coffee with a five-dollar bill and let them keep the change. But this wasn’t enough to sustain them all day every day. This is where the story gets its class:
One of the Willowbrook refugees was a thirty or forty something woman with the mind of a seven year old. She loved to watch the ponies, and like anyone else, got an even bigger thrill seeing a race when she had a few bucks riding on it. The problem was, of course, where to get the bucks to ride. It didn’t take long for her to learn that she could get the bucks by letting guys ride her, and so she and a random customer would walk a few metres to the parking lot and bump nasties for a few George Washingtons and the occasional Abraham Lincoln. She earned quite a few shillings this way—like many Willowbrook patients, she had most of her front teeth removed so she couldn’t bite the orderlies, and this was an obvious plus to customers looking to use her mouth for other purposes. So to review, customers from our branch would take turns shagging Willow in their respective autos or in the loo—knowing full well she had the mind of a child—give her a few bucks, she’d come back in, make a few bets (or sometimes use the money for food or medicine), then go out with another customer to make a few more bucks so she could bet another race. Eventually, her foster caretakers would allow her back in the house where she’d get some sleep and come back to OTB when she’s kicked out the next morning.
Oh, right, Tin Can Louie. Yeah, so Louie was one of our customers and was pretty broke himself so one time he paid Willow for a blowjob with a bag of soda cans from the trash. You know, so she could go to the supermarket next door and claim the 5 cent deposits and make her money.
And that’s how Louie got that honourable nickname.
