Not-So-Smooth Criminal
I almost got mugged today. Keyword “almost.” It was a pathetic attempt at a mugging. I find it increasingly hard to be threatened by a guy who is shorter than me, couldn’t weigh more than 70 lbs, has me “cornered” beside a very public statue of Simon Bolivar, and whose only weapon is a plank of wood. Yes, a fucking plank of wood, and when you consider the size, build and race of the guy, he was sort of like Johnny 2-by-4 gone bad. (“Plank says give us all your money or he’ll fuckin’ bust a cap in yo’ azz, bitch!”) It was pretty scary at the time, but in retrospect, just really, really sad. I screamed and this lady who happened to be passing on the other side of the street at the time came by and chased the weedy little “mugger” away, made sure I was OK and told me not to walk around this neighborhood alone. I think I’ll stick to walking home, even if it is through Junkieville USA, but maybe next time I’ll take a switchblade with me and show these saps how to mug people the New York way. The proper way. The American way! I never did get around to calling the police, though, and to me there doesn’t seem much point, because they’d never catch the guy if I did tell them, anyway. However, my nerves are still shot, and my body’s stuck in fight-or-flight, so if the phone even rings, I freak out and scream. Maybe I will call the police, I’m not sure. Thing is, I kinda feel sorry for the guy, now, because he must have been really poor and desperate if he thought I had money. :p I mean, the only thing of even relative value was my soccer dog-tags, but you couldn’t resell them or anything, because they have my name on it.