getting mugged
i fought crime, finally, swiftly, no regrets, no regard for oneself, only quick judgement, immediate consequence.
he said he had a gun, he was 6'8.
coloegero works in our building. he's young, maybe 23, always wears a tyler durden red leather jacket with a throw over army bag, and fbi tobogen. he buzzes people thru the door, lets them into riverside. he also lives in the building, on the 4th floor, thats the floor shashana lives on, the alcoholic, the crazy.
i had french lessons tonight, i took my vacation, my break from everything, for an hour and a half, learning the language, thinking of nothing else. on my return i came up out of the subway tunnel and turned the block heading down 94th.
i saw collie (coloegero), he was about a block ahead walking home too, i wonder if he had french tonight, had he been on holiday as i had. vacation. france. france, in harlem.
he walked past a large man, 6'8, maybe 6'8, doesn't matter, he was big, huge really, and i saw him ask collie something. cal (coloegero) replied and attempted to keep walking. the man, the large one, remember, the 6'8 one, he continued to walk with cal, closely, talking, saying something, collie tried to keep walking, the man put his hand in his pocket, i walked faster. there was trouble, this was trouble, i had heard about this, seen it in many movies, several really, not all that good, some decent, i walked even faster. i heard him saying things, not terribly polite things to cal, cal tried to get away but the man, the large man wouldn't have it.
heres the dialogue:
me: whats the problem?
6'8: keep walking.
his hand in his pocket, his gun pocket.
6'8: if you don't want to catch a bullet you better keep walking.
me: i think i'll stay.
the man can't believe i'd chosen this option. he seems confused momentarily, his face looking as though he's working something out in his head, logorythms without the calculator.
coloegero touches the mans pocket, his gun pocket. why did you do that cal. why would you feel the gun pocket? are you a crime fighter too? do you also have the incite, the spidey sense.
me: this is my friend, whats the problem?
6'8: i got a dead mom, family, and i need money, give me your money.
the guy turns to me, its my turn, i get a shot. cal takes the oppurtunity and starts walking. its me, i get a chance, all me, me versus 6'8. cal turns around about fifteen feet down, he's seen this in movies, he watches, what will happen, is there danger, should he stay, should he run go call the police.
the guy keeps telling me to give him money, he needs it, his dead mom, his family, the gun. this doesn't seem like a movie. not really. i feel casual, calm, i had french tonight. vacation.
me: no, i don't like it when people harrass my friends, hold em up with guns. i'm not giving you money, you should've asked nice. i understand what its like to not have money, to have alot of family, i've got a big family, nine kids and everything.
6'8: look, i'll take my hand out of my pocket, i just need like 60 bucks. help me.
i consider my options. the quick face punch. he is wearing glasses, i could get him there, that'd hurt, that'd give me a chance to do anything, run, keep hitting. maybe the chest shove, shove him right in the chest, why, thats retarded. the nose.
me: i'll tell you what, i'll give you a dollar. you pissed me off, you don't fuck with my friends, not on my street.
i may have said that too casually, but still, my body is warming up, its freezing out, 20's, but my blood is moving fast, racing thru my veigns, encouraging my muscles, my brain is shooting, this/that, this/that.
6'8: gimme 10 or 20 man, come on.
the hold up is changing from demands to pleading. i begin to doubt the existence of a gun, at least of guts. i don't like him, we're not friends nor will we be, as i reach into my wallet i start talking again.
(caution) in this next dialogue the language is not church going. i do not condone it, nor believe it should be practiced so carelessly, but in this particular instance, it not only seemed ok, but perhaps needed.
me: i can't believe you pulled that gun shit here, with a friend of mine. if you ever do that again i'll fuckin kill you. i'm gonna give you two dollars. then you're going to leave and if i ever see your face on this street again theres gonna be shit. you hear me. stay the fuck away from here.
he's nodding. who the hell am i. the mob. deniro. deniro wouldn't have given him two dollars. deniro would've gone for the glasses. smacked him right in the eyes.
i hand over the two dollars.
i go on for a bit, i tell him i'm not happy, that he better stay far from this block or some terrible things are going to happen.
me: now get the fuck outta here.
he shakes my hand. he hugs me. yes. he hugs me. who am i? dr. phil. hard lessons, but you grow, he'll be a better man. he seemed scared now. this is odd.
i am dr. phil. i'm oprah, this is a cleansing.
me: get outta here.
he leaves and i walk, cal starts walking with me. he thanks me. i'd seen this in movies i'm almost sure. probably one with deniro. cal's short, i'm tall, not 6'8 or anything but maybe i could look after cal, really take care of him, watch his back. i consider buying a costume for a moment. a disguise. am i a cape type? would i wear a mask? what would they call me? captain rescue? big brother? dr. phil.
he said he had a gun, he was 6'8.
coloegero works in our building. he's young, maybe 23, always wears a tyler durden red leather jacket with a throw over army bag, and fbi tobogen. he buzzes people thru the door, lets them into riverside. he also lives in the building, on the 4th floor, thats the floor shashana lives on, the alcoholic, the crazy.
i had french lessons tonight, i took my vacation, my break from everything, for an hour and a half, learning the language, thinking of nothing else. on my return i came up out of the subway tunnel and turned the block heading down 94th.
i saw collie (coloegero), he was about a block ahead walking home too, i wonder if he had french tonight, had he been on holiday as i had. vacation. france. france, in harlem.
he walked past a large man, 6'8, maybe 6'8, doesn't matter, he was big, huge really, and i saw him ask collie something. cal (coloegero) replied and attempted to keep walking. the man, the large one, remember, the 6'8 one, he continued to walk with cal, closely, talking, saying something, collie tried to keep walking, the man put his hand in his pocket, i walked faster. there was trouble, this was trouble, i had heard about this, seen it in many movies, several really, not all that good, some decent, i walked even faster. i heard him saying things, not terribly polite things to cal, cal tried to get away but the man, the large man wouldn't have it.
heres the dialogue:
me: whats the problem?
6'8: keep walking.
his hand in his pocket, his gun pocket.
6'8: if you don't want to catch a bullet you better keep walking.
me: i think i'll stay.
the man can't believe i'd chosen this option. he seems confused momentarily, his face looking as though he's working something out in his head, logorythms without the calculator.
coloegero touches the mans pocket, his gun pocket. why did you do that cal. why would you feel the gun pocket? are you a crime fighter too? do you also have the incite, the spidey sense.
me: this is my friend, whats the problem?
6'8: i got a dead mom, family, and i need money, give me your money.
the guy turns to me, its my turn, i get a shot. cal takes the oppurtunity and starts walking. its me, i get a chance, all me, me versus 6'8. cal turns around about fifteen feet down, he's seen this in movies, he watches, what will happen, is there danger, should he stay, should he run go call the police.
the guy keeps telling me to give him money, he needs it, his dead mom, his family, the gun. this doesn't seem like a movie. not really. i feel casual, calm, i had french tonight. vacation.
me: no, i don't like it when people harrass my friends, hold em up with guns. i'm not giving you money, you should've asked nice. i understand what its like to not have money, to have alot of family, i've got a big family, nine kids and everything.
6'8: look, i'll take my hand out of my pocket, i just need like 60 bucks. help me.
i consider my options. the quick face punch. he is wearing glasses, i could get him there, that'd hurt, that'd give me a chance to do anything, run, keep hitting. maybe the chest shove, shove him right in the chest, why, thats retarded. the nose.
me: i'll tell you what, i'll give you a dollar. you pissed me off, you don't fuck with my friends, not on my street.
i may have said that too casually, but still, my body is warming up, its freezing out, 20's, but my blood is moving fast, racing thru my veigns, encouraging my muscles, my brain is shooting, this/that, this/that.
6'8: gimme 10 or 20 man, come on.
the hold up is changing from demands to pleading. i begin to doubt the existence of a gun, at least of guts. i don't like him, we're not friends nor will we be, as i reach into my wallet i start talking again.
(caution) in this next dialogue the language is not church going. i do not condone it, nor believe it should be practiced so carelessly, but in this particular instance, it not only seemed ok, but perhaps needed.
me: i can't believe you pulled that gun shit here, with a friend of mine. if you ever do that again i'll fuckin kill you. i'm gonna give you two dollars. then you're going to leave and if i ever see your face on this street again theres gonna be shit. you hear me. stay the fuck away from here.
he's nodding. who the hell am i. the mob. deniro. deniro wouldn't have given him two dollars. deniro would've gone for the glasses. smacked him right in the eyes.
i hand over the two dollars.
i go on for a bit, i tell him i'm not happy, that he better stay far from this block or some terrible things are going to happen.
me: now get the fuck outta here.
he shakes my hand. he hugs me. yes. he hugs me. who am i? dr. phil. hard lessons, but you grow, he'll be a better man. he seemed scared now. this is odd.
i am dr. phil. i'm oprah, this is a cleansing.
me: get outta here.
he leaves and i walk, cal starts walking with me. he thanks me. i'd seen this in movies i'm almost sure. probably one with deniro. cal's short, i'm tall, not 6'8 or anything but maybe i could look after cal, really take care of him, watch his back. i consider buying a costume for a moment. a disguise. am i a cape type? would i wear a mask? what would they call me? captain rescue? big brother? dr. phil.