Claude Clay
Member
Walter is played by PPK/S. Car by Monte Carlo
Late summer 1976, 3 family house in a 5 corner area where for a couple of years 3 different gangs have been trying to decide who controls what. This in a time during which the youth gained statue in their gang by hurting, stealing & well, you get the idea. The stairs have two landings per level and I’m coming down from the second floor-customer wasn’t home. I start to make the 2nd turn as I get drift of company—couple more steps and I spy 2 youth in the vestibule leaning against the door. Through the door glass I see another shape leaning back from the outside. He would be the look-out dude. Inside, lefty has a steak knife making cool like he’s paring his nails. Righty has one empty hand and the other in a wind breaker-- the pocket is too small to contain a gun and his hand is not positioned as if to be holding one—worst he could have in there is a very short or folded blade.
Now Walter is part of my custom belt holster; above my front left pants pocket and covered by my straight cut untucked shirt. I’m standing with my left hand clasping my right wrist; right hand is on Walter’s butt. I look rather undangerous standing there thusly. Knife guy says kinda softly ‘this is a stick up.’ I’m thinking he ain’t right for this speaking part. I say ‘speak up…..this is a what??’ he says with a bit more vim ‘stick up’ and other guy says ‘ I got a gun’ to which I respond ‘ better be a sandwich in your pocket cause whatever you take out, your eating’. This being said as Walter makes eye contact with him.. I don’t think they had ever heard a safety snick so loudly. A lot happens now as look-out dude hears/ turns/ sees gun and is gone in a flash. And a puddle is forming at knife guys feet as his friend, whose back was against the doorknob, joins the flash. I’m feeling kinda bad for pissy guy, what with him being all alone now with me. tears are forming but thankfully he’s not leaking anything else. Though he did drop his knife without me telling him to, I figured that was no cause for me to chide him. I tell him he can’t go outside in piss pants; to take them and his sneakers off and then leave. He does.
As I make my way over to Monte ( nope—no one lurking in the tall bushy bushes lining the walk) it is rather festive outside; what with all the whistling and laughing by the resident hanger-abouters. I guess some peoples are easily entertained.
I add another knife to my collection--I now have 2 plus a cute little wood bat. But, sadly what was in the other dudes pocket remains a mystery. Just for the halibut I’m gonna figure it was a PB&J. Must be I’m hungry what with all this thinking about food.
_________
Maybe 3 years later pisser gets my attention from across a street and we talk. He tells me that that was the first time he ever tried a stickup and as I scared the-----I ain’t gonna say it—out of him, he is truly proud to have graduated high school and tech college. His two partners-in-grime he had long since lost track of and to the best of his recollection pocket guy was holding hands with himself.
Gets me to thinking that perhaps we ( Walter and I ) maybe makes for a good social reformation team.
Say good-night Gracie
Late summer 1976, 3 family house in a 5 corner area where for a couple of years 3 different gangs have been trying to decide who controls what. This in a time during which the youth gained statue in their gang by hurting, stealing & well, you get the idea. The stairs have two landings per level and I’m coming down from the second floor-customer wasn’t home. I start to make the 2nd turn as I get drift of company—couple more steps and I spy 2 youth in the vestibule leaning against the door. Through the door glass I see another shape leaning back from the outside. He would be the look-out dude. Inside, lefty has a steak knife making cool like he’s paring his nails. Righty has one empty hand and the other in a wind breaker-- the pocket is too small to contain a gun and his hand is not positioned as if to be holding one—worst he could have in there is a very short or folded blade.
Now Walter is part of my custom belt holster; above my front left pants pocket and covered by my straight cut untucked shirt. I’m standing with my left hand clasping my right wrist; right hand is on Walter’s butt. I look rather undangerous standing there thusly. Knife guy says kinda softly ‘this is a stick up.’ I’m thinking he ain’t right for this speaking part. I say ‘speak up…..this is a what??’ he says with a bit more vim ‘stick up’ and other guy says ‘ I got a gun’ to which I respond ‘ better be a sandwich in your pocket cause whatever you take out, your eating’. This being said as Walter makes eye contact with him.. I don’t think they had ever heard a safety snick so loudly. A lot happens now as look-out dude hears/ turns/ sees gun and is gone in a flash. And a puddle is forming at knife guys feet as his friend, whose back was against the doorknob, joins the flash. I’m feeling kinda bad for pissy guy, what with him being all alone now with me. tears are forming but thankfully he’s not leaking anything else. Though he did drop his knife without me telling him to, I figured that was no cause for me to chide him. I tell him he can’t go outside in piss pants; to take them and his sneakers off and then leave. He does.
As I make my way over to Monte ( nope—no one lurking in the tall bushy bushes lining the walk) it is rather festive outside; what with all the whistling and laughing by the resident hanger-abouters. I guess some peoples are easily entertained.
I add another knife to my collection--I now have 2 plus a cute little wood bat. But, sadly what was in the other dudes pocket remains a mystery. Just for the halibut I’m gonna figure it was a PB&J. Must be I’m hungry what with all this thinking about food.
_________
Maybe 3 years later pisser gets my attention from across a street and we talk. He tells me that that was the first time he ever tried a stickup and as I scared the-----I ain’t gonna say it—out of him, he is truly proud to have graduated high school and tech college. His two partners-in-grime he had long since lost track of and to the best of his recollection pocket guy was holding hands with himself.
Gets me to thinking that perhaps we ( Walter and I ) maybe makes for a good social reformation team.
Say good-night Gracie
