My Friday evenings weren’t like most typical Friday evenings kids my age had. Instead of being out at a bar drinking and socializing, I was usually stuck working the late shift at Super Mart talking to overworked single moms who know nothing about technology but are trying to buy a gift for their spoiled teenage kid who does nothing more than nag the entire time they’re there. There would occasionally be a pretty girl or two walking around the store, but usually too young and accompanied by their parents and/or younger siblings. Since Super Mart opens 24 hours, my shift usually ended around 2:30 or 3 in the morning and by that time I was usually too tired to go out.
I got out of work last Thursday night and was a bit irritated when I walked up to the bike rack in the front and saw the front tire of my bike was flat. Since I only lived but 5 blocks away, I decided to walk home. It was a nice night, pleasant temperature and there was a nice breeze that made the mid-summer heat feel more like early Spring.
I had almost made it home when I noticed two thugs standing at the corner of the street I lived on. They looked a bit shady, but I’m not really one to judge.
As I got closer, I noticed they had begun walking toward me and I was instantly alarmed. My heartbeat sped up and I could feel my palms begin to sweat. At one point I remember tripping on a crack in the pavement. I decided the best thing to do in this situation was to take initiative and show them they don’t scare me and with that thought in mind, I quickly blurted out, “good evening, gentlemen.”
One of the two thugs, the taller one with a really shaggy blonde mullet, yelled out, “yea, right!” and began laughing hysterically. The other pulled out a switch blade and growled, “GIVE US ALL YOUR MONEY, PUNK! AND THAT PRETTY LITTLE WATCH, TOO!”
My mind went blank, and I didn’t know what to do. I stood there frozen without moving a muscle. I thought about yelling for the police, but even if I did, I didn’t think anybody in the neighborhood would be awake to hear it.
The momentary silence was broken by the blonde thug, who was also much thinner and taller, when he walked so close to me I could smell the cheap whiskey in his breath and in a much less enthusiastic, but threatening voice said, “well, bitch, give it here… we want your money!”
I put my hands about halfway up, just about in front of my chest and in a trembling voice I cried out, “h-hold on, here… I don’t have any money on me, I only use my debit card!”
“THEN GIVE US YOUR FUCKING WALLET, PUNK!” – yelled out the fat thug, who I suspected was in a bad mood because he hadn’t been fed in an hour or so. “DON’T MAKE ME FUCKING HURT YOU!”
Then, at that very moment, in the blink of an eye, my whole life changed with one decision which, considering I am now looking at death or time in prison, I still don’t know how to feel about it. I made a fist and I don’t know where the hell it came from, but I found the courage to deliver a cross punch to the fat guy and I took off running across the street immediately. I didn’t even look back to see if they were chasing me… I just ran as fast as I could, turned as many corners as I could and jumped as many fences as I could.
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