My mother used to say “you never know which decisions will change your life until you've already made them.” Unfortunately I found out just how true that was when I decided to get a cup of coffee at the local farmers market. I had been living off the grid for over five years and did all my shopping at local farmers markets and craft fairs, they were some of the only places you could use cash anymore. I had been having a good day. I just traded some wild blackberries and a couple of jars of wild honey for a month's worth of staples and fifty dollars in cash. Honey was hard to come by these days and I might have been able to hold out for more but I figured the good will was worth it, besides I couldn't carry much more.

I liked this particular market because almost everyone was from a small family operation, no corporate farms looking to mark up what wouldn't fit on the truck. Just people like me trying to get by.

The only exception to this was the row of food trucks parked along the road next to the entrance, wafting their deep fried ultra processed homogenized scents in defiance of the natural bounty displayed inside. Normally, I wouldn't have given them a second look. I didn't have the money to waste and couldn't stand the preservatives anymore. But then I smelled the coffee. Real coffee, not the roasted chickorie crap I can make myself. It had been years, and I had a windfall burning a hole in my pocket. I argued with myself the entire walk over but I knew I was going to cave in to my oldest vice.

The girl behind the window breached the seal on her little air conditioned box when I tapped on the window and said with a plastic smile, “Welcome to CaféontheGo, would you like to try our new Cherry Mocha Espresso today?”

“Just a large black coffee,” I said, “no frills.”

Without even looking up from her register she intoned, “would you like to try one of our signature pastries?” and once I had declined, ”three fifty four is your total.”

I handed over the crisp fifty dollar bill I had just been paid and watched as she changed my life with a pen. We both watched in shock as the little test mark went from a brownish smear to black and then to a bright red. “I'm sorry sir,” she said, “but I think this bill is counterfeit. I can still scan you if you want to pay by credit.” she already had the scanner in her hand.

The idea of getting scanned had me looking around nervously. Just in time to see a cop car pull up a few spaces ahead of the food cart. I had to stop myself from raising a hand to the stylized hammer I wore under my shirt as i prayed that they wouldn't get involved.

“Forget the coffee,” I said, “just give me back the fifty and I'll straighten it out with the guy who gave it to me.” I knew I should have just walked away, but I needed that fifty dollars.

“I can't give you back a bill we both know is fake!” she said just a little too loudly. I start to back away but the skinny local cop was already there asking what's going on.

“This creep just tried to pay for his coffee with a fake fifty,” she says, brandishing the bill like exhibit one.

“This is all just a misunderstanding. It's not mine, I just got it off one off the vendors, let me get him and I'm sure we can clear this up.” I knew my babbling was only making things worse, but I couldn't seem to reign in my tongue.

“Maybe we should clear this up back at the station.” the cop said, and it is not a question. I deflate as he takes hold of my arm. A moment later, when he reaches for his cuffs, I spin around and punch him in the face with everything I have.

He fell flat on his ass with blood already pouring from his nose and I ran. Down the row of food trucks and around the back of the Nathan's Hotdog truck. The whole time I was thinking if I could just make it to the woods I might have a chance. That was when I ran into the cop's partner, and unlike the skinny guy I just layed out, this guy was built like an old school tank. It was like hitting a wall and before I got my breath back he had me in cuffs. I keeped struggling for a few more seconds then heard an electric crackle and everything went away.

You might be asking yourself what kind of guy risks assaulting a cop to avoid a counterfeiting charge that probably wouldn't stick. I mean, despite everything it is still America, right. Well, let me tell you, that kind of guy is the kind that is already supposed to be behind bars. I guess now is as good a time as any for the obligatory back story flashback.