So I was in the city minding my own business getting my quarterly payroll done by my accountant. I parked my Vette in one of those $20/all day type lots only because I was pressed for time. Mind you I was about 4 blocks from where I should be but hey, what the fuck.
The black boy at the lot took my money no problems. In hindsight I remember him being overly smiley and possibly picking up his cell phone and making a call although much of that is a little blurry. Anyhow...
I got a block and a half away and this dark brother comes out from an alley (right before I got there) and asks me if I smoke. Well of course I do, I have a Camel hanging from my lip. He asks me if I am looking for some Marlboros in the box. Apparently he has a shitload, and can tell that me in my Armani and his monkey son at the car lot that I have the dough... at least I can get it.
I tell this boo that I have no interest in his bullshit smokes and that I have a place that I need to be. He sees me carrying my briefcase and most likely thinks I am some kike diamond merchant and pulls out asome piece of shit nickel plated .22 from God knows where.
I hit the deck, slapped open my Samsonit, grabbed my Glock .44 and popped a cap between that Neanderthal's eyes from about 4 feet. His buddy ran, I collected my self, brushed off my suit and continued on to my accountants offie (sweating all the way and back).
No red and blues, no nothing. Fuck the monkey.
The black boy at the lot took my money no problems. In hindsight I remember him being overly smiley and possibly picking up his cell phone and making a call although much of that is a little blurry. Anyhow...
I got a block and a half away and this dark brother comes out from an alley (right before I got there) and asks me if I smoke. Well of course I do, I have a Camel hanging from my lip. He asks me if I am looking for some Marlboros in the box. Apparently he has a shitload, and can tell that me in my Armani and his monkey son at the car lot that I have the dough... at least I can get it.
I tell this boo that I have no interest in his bullshit smokes and that I have a place that I need to be. He sees me carrying my briefcase and most likely thinks I am some kike diamond merchant and pulls out asome piece of shit nickel plated .22 from God knows where.
I hit the deck, slapped open my Samsonit, grabbed my Glock .44 and popped a cap between that Neanderthal's eyes from about 4 feet. His buddy ran, I collected my self, brushed off my suit and continued on to my accountants offie (sweating all the way and back).
No red and blues, no nothing. Fuck the monkey.
Comment