(From last week's column):

"I spun to face the group that was stopping my entry to the car, my mind racing wildly.  With my back to the car I reached into my jacket and produced the eight-inch blade.  Someone yelled, "He's got a knife!" and I lashed forward at the nearest threat while reaching for the door handle with my free hand.  Another explosion of pain, this time in my left shoulder.  I spun to the left with the knife, cutting a wide, swooping arc through the air.  I pulled back to lunge once again, and in a blinding flash everything went black."

And now for the conclusion of Adventures in Stupidity, The Hard Lesson:

By all rights, this story should end there.  Perhaps a brief epilogue about "live by the sword, die by the sword" or "life cut short at such a young age" or maybe even "stupid is as stupid does".  But the fates smiled upon Ash Lee in those early morning hours so many years ago, and I slowly regained a state of semi-consciousness.

The first thing I remember is hearing the muffled chatter and static of a police walkie-talkie.  My head throbbing and my vision blurred, I opened my eyes and my dark blue dashboard slowly came into focus.  I was lying on the front bench seat of my car - on top of shattered window glass.  A police officer told me to lay back down, the ambulance was on its way, and not to worry: it was all over.  I remember replying through the haze, "It's not over, it's just beginning."

It was hardly over.  Even in my bleary frame of mind, I knew I'd have to explain what I was doing there to the police.  I knew my car windows were smashed out (it turns out that was the group in the car that pulled up after) and my car was probably damaged beyond just the glass (it was - to the point of totaled).  I had just started a new job (moving furniture) the week before - so much for that.  Then there was my mom, who would have to come pick me up; and, I was sure, would want an explanation as well.  No, it wasn't over, it had all just started.

As I was loaded into the ambulance, John (who I hadn't seen since I entered the house) climbed in beside me - he was okay, but his elbow was hurt.  He told me that after I went into the house, the other guys just milled around my car.   He saw me bolt out of the house toward the car and when he realized they wouldn't let me in, he got out and came around the front to help me, only to get have a shovel swung at him which he blocked with his elbow.  Seeing that we were vastly outnumbered, he turned and ran two blocks to where his sister had moved only a month before and called the police.  Meanwhile, when his cousin Tim saw what was happening, he ducked down to the floor in the back while glass rained down on him.  When the opportunity presented itself, he opened the door and slipped off down the street.  I don't hold it against him in the least.

At the hospital, all x-rays were negative and the bleeding was stopped with about two dozen stitches to the head.  The police said they had arrested three of the guys, but the rest got away.  They said they had questions for me but I could recuperate for a day before coming in to answer them.  When I did come in to answer them, the police already knew the answers and had a few facts for me.  First, conspiracy to purchase a controlled substance is a crime for which I will be arrested.  Second, when I lunged with the knife, I stabbed a man and when I swung with the knife I cut another.  I was subsequently arrested and charged with conspiracy to purchase a controlled substance and two counts of assault with a deadly weapon.  John was not charged, Tim, it seemed, had simply vanished but the other three guys (one of which was my "new friend") were also charged with assault and conspiracy.  With the help of my dear, sweet mother, I posted bail, got a lawyer and prepared to go to trial - with the distinct possibility of spending some time in jail.

Shortly before we were to stand in front of the judge, the lawyers and several court officials decided to sit us all down together and see if we could work something out.  I walked into a conference room and sat across the table from three of the guys that had beat me senseless not six weeks earlier.  As I sat down, my "friend", we'll call him Steve now, apologized to me for what happened.  I immediately asked him why he did it and he said that's what they do for kicks - beat people up.  My jaw must have hung open a little too long as I stared at him, because he appeared to get uncomfortable and mumbled, "I know, it's stupid." as he looked at the floor.  To this day I simply cannot understand the mentality behind hurting someone for pleasure; I just don't get it.

Then I asked Steve to tell me what happened after I blacked out.  He said that by the time he got down to the car I had already pulled the knife and lunged, stabbing his friend.  I then got hit by a shovel on the left shoulder.  I swung the knife left, then pulled back to reload when I took another shovel to the back of the head, ending my memories of the moment.  According to Steve, I didn't fall down, I swung again.  And got hit again.  He said they kept trying to get the knife away from me, but that I wouldn't let go.  With more pounding from bats and shovels, I fell to my knees and started crawling toward the back of the car.  They finally kicked the knife away from me as I tried to prop myself up on the rear bumper.  They thought I might have another weapon in the trunk, so they kept striking me until I collapsed on the ground.  Then they ransacked my car with the gang of other guys.  He said that when the cops showed up, he saw me crawling back toward the driver's side door as he ran off.  While I cannot vouch for his honesty, his description of the events fit the injuries I received.

The court officials felt that since all our charges basically cancelled each other out, we could save the court some time by "trading off" our charges.  They flew it past the judge who agreed to seal the record and drop all charges if we could "keep our noses clean" for one year.  I kept mine clean and have maintained a clean police record ever since.  More intervention from those smiling fates.  By all accounts I should have died there in the street.  Brain hemorrhage.  Stabbed with my own knife.  Shot.  It could have easily gone that way or many others just because I wanted to get high and didn't consider the gravity of my actions.  I never thought for a moment that things would go bad, regardless of the situation - this is ME, after all.  Bad things only happen to other people - but we're ALL other people.  Granted, I put myself in that position, and I assume all responsibility for it, but other situations can pull you in and before you know it, everything is going spiraling downward and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Just believe that bad things can happen to you as well, no matter how worldly-wise you may be.  So use the brains God gave you, stay away from drugs and don't talk to strangers.  Lesson learned.