Being raised amongst hundreds, if not thousands as a kid, I would study them everyday. It was a matter of survival. Now, lots of doctors and psychologists have many reasons why a person becomes a psycho. They’re all way off the mark. Most of these creatures are BORN that way guys, sorry, no ones fault. Usually a genetic trait, or, some injury in the womb maybe. Spending a lot of time in juvenile facilities, Sheriff work camps, boys homes, half way houses, ‘special homes’, and such, I feel quite qualified to remark on the subject. Running into one of the top ten psychos I’ve known, recently, really got the old brain humming. So, lets get the ball rolling on memory lane…If there was ever a complete opposite of the ‘Horse Whisperer’, this guy was it. I first met him at Father Garret’s Home for Wayward Boys, off Soledad Cyn, back in the early sixties. Since he was always screwing around with the power, he got the name, ‘Sparky’…I lost track of Sparky after getting transferred to another home for nut case kids up in Lebec. That’s a whole different story. The next time I see Sparky is at a big horse ranch up Vasquez Cyn in Saugus. Like most successful psychos, he didn’t look like one at all. Sort of like a young Gary Cooper, but not as tall. I was at the ranch cutting weeds around the stables. He was there to take care of a little problem the owners had. Yakking it up like we had just seen each other, Sparky wonders if I would like a better job as an assistant working for him. I ask what the job is, and what I can make. He tells me ten grand for five minutes work, I’ll get ten percent at first, then, a lot more later. TEN GRAND! He had me hooked. He has a conference with the owners in their kitchen, then winks at me as he comes outside. He tells me to go to his van and get a small black bag, then, meet him in the green stable. So, I do just that. No one is inside the small, well kept, six stall metal building. It’s almost new, and has concrete floors. Nice. He then opens a paddock door to lead out a nice looking horse. It just has a rope halter for control. Now, I’m about seventeen years old. I figure in experiences, I’m actually about a hundred and fifty. Nothing could ever surprise me was my attitude. I was about to learn how wrong I was. Tying a loop of the halter to a post, Sparky then opens his small, medical looking bag. Like a vet would carry. Inside was just a twenty five foot, heavy duty orange extension cord. It had a large alligator clip on the female end. Taking a bucket of water, he then splashes the horse, hooks up the clip to the horses lower lip, then walks over to an electric outlet. He tells me to get off the concrete just five seconds before he plugs in the power cord. The horse drops like a rock in one second. Sparky unplugs the cord, wraps it up, puts it back in his little black bag, takes the rope halter off the now dead as a door nail horse, then, smiles at me and says, “Easy money!” I try and act like I see this every day. One thing about psychos, never act better than them. EVER. A bit of advice…How could such a thing happen? Well, rich people are rich for a reason. They will do ANYTHING not to be poor. Simple. So, you invest in some nag that can’t win a race, or, won’t drop a good colt, and, presto, a call goes out to a Sparky type to get your dough back from the INSURANCE on said nag. If you have a really proficient nut like Sparky, he knows how to give a heart attack with no ‘evidence to the contrary’ and every one is happy. Except the horse…I passed on the job. I didn’t tell him that though. Just gave him a made up phone number and hoped to never see him again…To give you the correct low down on a Psychopath is simple. In his/her mind, ANYTHING THEY DO can be justified. Get it?
