I’m a reporter. I keep an eye on the street. I write down everything I see and all the people I encounter. I’m also a lecturer and essayist, so, when I compose my addresses, I talk about what I know: Drugs, guns, and thug life.
Once, I was holding the door open for some gang members who were hastening out of a house: they were stealing a couple of kegs of malt liquor. They then threw a big party and invited many women to come and dance.
At a certain point in the festivities, everyone decided to celebrate by throwing their firearms in the air and then catching them again. Since I myself was unarmed, a nearby gangster lent me a handgun, so that I could participate in this tradition. Therefore I joined the fun and tossed up my pistol; but, when it began to fall back down again, I was unable to catch it, so it landed on the ground and discharged. The bullet ended up ricocheting off the side of an automobile, then it shattered the window of a house and killed a family of four. From the sound of the shot and the resultant screams, within a matter of minutes the cops pulled up and instructed the crowd to identify the culprit. Everyone pointed at me. So they hauled me off to jail, where I served a lengthy sentence. Yet, after paying my debt to society, they released me to freedom.
No comments:
Post a Comment