It Takes Malice

My old neighborhood street corner is a scene that made me feel threatened .It was regular business fights over drugs territories, almost like a Hollywood movie being film outside my doors step. The gun shots, there, were loud and frequent. It felt like it was Fourth of July every day. The police radios, sirens, people screaming and fighting, loud music, and cars rubbing engines were all over the neighborhood. The bitter smell of death was in the air. The ambulance sirens overwhelmed the road, and I felt threatened may be they are coming for me, and I reached for my steel, cold and deadly, and fear because I don’t know when is going to be my time to die. I want it to get out, but I couldn’t.

The only thing I could do is hustle. This threatened sensation runs through me, it felt like an army of ants crawling all over me. When will be the day “I meet the creator”? I used to ask. The only thing I knew was to hustle. I hustled every rich kid I came across with money, the more money the better chances I got to get out of that shit hole. I’m not proud of what I did, but I did it. This threatened sensation makes a man do really bad things to survive. Would I do it again?

It takes malice to hustle is one those things; that you need a partner in crime. I met Papo when I was 15 years old. His family wasn’t different then mine poor and starving it was our similarities. The only difference about us was that he knew the streets. He introduced me into the life of crime that later I will become addicted to. The first time, I held a gun to this kid, and took his bicycle. At that time my hands were sweaty and my knees shaking as I held the steel towards his head and told him get off the bike. After that a sense of adrenaline rush ran through my body, and it became a habit that I craved.

After that incident we went on into bigger things like robbing convenience stores, gas stations, high jacking cars. Pretty soon I grew calloused and my street knowledge was required to perpetrate all the crimes that later I will be ashamed.

As a consequence of our endeavors we acquired a fame that comes along with the trade. It connected us with body shops that were buying stolen cars for parts. We concentrated on “jacking”, a term well known for robbing a car at gun point. At times we bumped people on their rear bumper, and when they got out checking for damages I got close and requested to step away from the vehicle at gun point. Another trick was to throw an egg to the windshield. The driver activated the windshield washer and a mush of egg was created all over the windshield making them stop. Allowing me to hold them at gun point and taking their car away. Shamefully fame was created and other kids soon started their own crime spree.

Finally one day, after been all day in the streets and with our pockets full of money we decided to stop at the corner from my house. Different from that day, something was lurking all around us. Cars with their loud music cruising up and down the street and I felt that threatening sensation one more time, while Papo is staring at a 1976 Dodge Lancer with Saab rims. Excited with the car rims he said, “Let’s go”! “I’m seating this one tonight, I don’t like this sensation I got about this”. I said. With that he proceeded to get in the car. Gary, who heard the conversation, didn’t wait for an invitation and he jump in the passenger seat of the car. I could hear Papo saying to Gary “I need those wheels for my 1995 Celica GT Twin Cam” as he get in his car. The scream of the tires and the smoke was our pay for staying behind.

Soon they disappeared in the shadows of the night and we began drinking heavily. Stories of our endeavors were the topic making them look bigger than what really happened. Music friends, dancing, drugs, is all you need, and still this threatening feeling. We were having so much fun. At the distance this particular noise was screaming in our direction. The red glare of the lights and the screaming of this vehicle made us realize it was an ambulance.

Generally I’m cool with this scene. I lived it every day, but this time it came with stomach pain and cold sweats. “Guys I think something really bad has happened to Papo and Gary”, I said. Some of the guys answered, “Don’t say that it will bring them bad luck”. The ambulance drove right in front of us empty, and a sigh of relief came all over us. The party continues, the drinking, and dancing was all we wanted to do. But about fifteen minutes later the same screaming from before made its presence.

Subsequently, it was clear through the window of the ambulance. You could see the paramedic pumping the chest of a lifeless body. We ran to the cars and got in them, and followed the ambulance. Once in the hospital we didn’t hear any news until the family arrived and confirmed. It was Papo shot by a cop. Two bullets one entered the neck on the right side, and exited left side temple, almost forehead. The other bullet entered the center in the back and exited left shoulder was the forensic report giving by the relatives.