So friday night I get a call requesting my presence at a birthday party down the way a bit. Lots of people I like are gonna be there so I gladly accept. I put on a creamish ten dollar suit, my fake rolex and some purple socks with a shirt to match as I'm feeling a bit osmond. I walk out my front door and what do I see? That's right smart ass---I find a brand new, crispy twenty dollar bill right there on the sidewalk. I look both directions --- nobody -- pocketland.---- Cool---- the night starts out right.
2 blocks later as I contemplate my luck, I do as I always do and look around at all the wonderful architechture. I scan up an old victorian to a top floor window and just as my eyes land, a woman removes her shirt and she is completely topless-----annnnnd shes not fat. Full view---just for me. But I don't fuck with luck nor am I a peeping tom so I keep walking (perhaps with a bit more bounce in my step).
1 block later a scraping metal japanese sports car sound approaches on the street from the rear. It is a tricked out homey type car driving faster than he should as his front two tires are flat, burning and coming off of his 18 inch rims. Burning rubber smells weird. He peels out on his rims as if he's in a real hurry. I'm wondering where the cops are. At this point I'm walking
in front of project keep-the-brother-man-down a.k.a. just-about-jail a.k.a. thanks-fer-nuthin. a.k.a---the projects---so I consciously change my bouncy step to a bouncy strut and grip my pretend ten dollar pistol under my five dollar jacket.
1 block later---look who's parked on the side of the street---it's flat-tire-homey-car and the black man in the drivers seat is punching the woman in the passenger seat. So my strut gets more aggressive and I walk sraight up to the car and pound on the window (I forgot to mention that I already had three cocktails with a friend at the house before I left.) bang bang bang..
"You better lay of right now cause I'm callin 911" I shout.
"Fuck off man----" and he does middle finger things and some black lookin'
stuff that I don't understand.
So I pull out my pretend ten dollar pistol which turns out to be just my cute little champagne colored phone and I dial 911. Homey jumps out and takes off runnin towards the projects, ---- gee, -- I think,---- that was easy.
I wait until he clearly is around the corner and decide that I don't need to press talk to complete the call to 911. After all----I'm late for a party---I'm in no mood for police reports or crying girlfriends----(besides, the car was next to a pay phone) --so I bail. My strut has now become a full on heroes gait. I am after all a hero. I arrive at the party and walk straight to the bar-- I order a drink and before I could even pay === the guy hands me a drink and somebody elses change for a hundered bucks. ---- My luck has been good enough so I scan the bar in both directions, I do some math and some guess work and spot the poor sap who gave the Benjamin ---
"I think that change is his" as I point at the dude.
I was right. He notices--walks over and says:
"Thanks dude, my name is Dave"
---- I say---
"My name is merkley" and then I excuse myself as I finally have a story to
tell the cute girls at the party.
That's all. Except I kinda want to just keep that twenty dollar bill.
I don't belive in karma ---- I think Jesus did it.