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The Gun

As we got closer to our destination, dusk started to descend, and it was becoming dark quickly. I was thinking that I had the right turn-off to exit, placing us exactly at the proper location. I was anything but correct. I got off on the wrong exit and had to go down a dark street in order to turn around and get back on track. As we proceeded to turn around on this dark alley-like street, some gang-bangers popped out of nowhere, blocking the street totally (all ten of them) with guns drawn and fully loaded. Nowhere to go but straight forward, I stopped for a slight moment, knowing that these bastards wanted to steal my uncle’s brand new Jaguar. Either stripped the car for sale in expensive car parts, or sale the whole vehicle as one and shipped it overseas, while killing us in the same process as to leave no witnesses.

I thought about plowing right through them, but they all had guns, and I knew that one of us would get hit from bullets flying with that many people firing at us at such a close range. I cautiously steered forward, my mind racing one hundred miles per hour and scared as shit, knowing that we were doomed. And for sure my Uncle’s brand new Jag was gone. They had to be at least twenty to twenty-four years of age, and we were only fifteen at the time. As we pulled up and came to a complete stop, they all completely surrounded the vehicle with guns cocked. One of these assholes came up to the car and butted his gun against the driver’s side window, telling me to slide the window down. I complied, without a choice in the matter. Then, this bastard placed a gun straight at my temple and cocked it, telling me to get outta the “MF’n car”, and I did. He continued yelling at me, telling me he was about to “blow my MF’n head-off.”

Then, out of nowhere, I just snapped with rage and anger beyond my control. I told that punk MF’er, if he did not remove that gun from my head NOW, I was going to kick his ass right then and there. I then said, “and when I kick your ass, you let us go…but you are not going to take my Uncle’s Jag.” The ring leader stepped forward and commanded this bastard to take the gun from my head, yet the punk insisted on shooting me right then and there. Again, the ring leader said specifically, “Something tells me, if I let you guys fight, this little young brother would kick your ass.” I would have, too…I wanted to kill that nigga that night. The ringer leader continued to say to me, “Young brother, you guys are looking so good and clean, I am going to let you go this time.”

I said, “Thank you very much boss,” while not taking my eyes off that punk for one second who put the gun to my head. All of his boys stood there in amazement that he let us off the hook, saying “Hey Chief, this is at least twenty thousand grand in our pockets.” He just smiled and waved us on, and without any more hesitation, I GOT THE HELL OUT OF THERE…LIKE YESTERDAY, THANKING GOD THAT WE WERE STILL ALIVE TO TELL ABOUT IT. As soon as I got back into the car and drove down the road away from them, Kim and the rest of my companions started yelling at me, “Are you fucking crazy? I could not believe you confronted them that way!” We were scared to death and feared for our lives that night.

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