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You have one second to decide. Actually, it is less than a second. Get involved or become a sideline eye witness. My beliefs have a tendency to get me into complications even though they are aligned with “good”, but isn’t it always the good guys that have more problems?
After getting out of work for the night I went to my local grocery store, Stop & Shop. I picked up some Half&half and checked out. I went outside the store, lit a Black & Mild cigar and sucked in a puff of smoke and humid summer night air. I watched some kids on skateboards stroll pass me, catching an ear full of a conversation about some girl named Megan and how huge her tits were. This night time adventure appeared to be routine until I stepped into the parking lot.
"Sir, can you put your hands around your back for me?"
The parking lot is expansive, as you have Stop & Shop, Staples, TGI Fridays, Old Navy and two other major retailers located in this plaza. Sometimes at late night, the parking lot plays host to makeshift car shows and/or a drag strip raceway. On this particular night, around 11:30pm, a crime by three young males against a woman took place. Normally I would say allege crime, but I was there, right in the “action”.
I heard a woman shout stop. Curiosity propelled me to take a closer look. Initially I thought the woman was playing around with a boyfriend or some friends. I had to move from the left entrance of Stop & Shop to the front entrance of Old Navy since some vehicles blocked my viewpoint from where the shout originated. I saw a woman that looked in her mid-thirties surrounded by three young males, all wearing white T-shirts and blue jeans near a late model white Honda Civic. One of the males was struggling with the woman, his hands wrapped around her handbag. She shouted someone help me, this time much louder than before. At that very moment, I realized she wasn’t kidding but being mugged.
Instincts kicked in and my normal somewhat passive demeanor dissipated quickly; what happens next makes me feel slightly guilty. I discarded my cigar and dropped my bag containing the half&half and I ran over to their location, slammed a left and right fist into the face of the teenager that was pulling the handbag with enough force that he dropped in an instant. The other two teenagers tried to land punches, but my boxing background helped avoid all but one kick to the shin. Behind us I hear an older male shout “Hey you, stop that” as he hurried to where we were. The last two teens see the man running to our location and decide to bolt. I gave chase but stopped, worried that the teenager on the ground may get up and run himself. I walked back in a backwards motion, assuring the other two males didn’t change their minds about running away.
I stared at the teenager on the ground with distrust and yet an urge to make sure he was alright. His body swayed side to side, while his hands covering his face muffled his sobs. A small crowd was forming around us and I thought about leaving. Bewildered faces surrounded me; some people asked others what happened. I kneel beside the guy and asked him if he was alright. “A fucking nigga punched me in the face. What do you think?” he said through the sobs. I don’t think he knew it was me who put him there, but I didn’t say anything else to him after that.
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