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October 25, 2005
Orange Crates And Broken Glass
It was Sunday night, and we needed to keep the bitches happy. Plain and simple. The rewards were too great. You know how Boy Dogs can be.
This little story is actually about the first, and only, time I robbed a liquor store.
We’d been doing everything all day long, and were out of beer and liquor, but we weren’t ready to call it quits. We needed some more action. We needed another good laugh, another thrill. Drink another beer…do another shot…do another line…burn another. We were quadruple fucked up. That’s a fact.
We decided we’d head on down to the Mom and Pop package store out on the island, break into that fucker, and help ourselves to some cases of bottles and cans. It wasn’t like we didn’t have the money, but it was Sunday, and they were closed.
My friend, who was driving a pickup, also sold oranges when he wasn’t selling herb. He had a bunch of classic wooden fruit crates in the bed, so, with six of us piled in, space was tight. We left the cuties to hold down the fort.
We knew that Mom and Pop lived above the store, and we also knew they were older. Nice folks, actually, but pleasing the girls won out.
The plan was for my friend to pull onto the manmade hill between the boat dock and the store…cut the engine, and coast, silently, into the parking lot. From there, we’d be manning the crates, and just break the front window…run in and grab what we wanted, and be gone.
There we are…undetected, in the parking lot, in front of the window, and my boys got cold feet. I was barefooted, and before I could let my brothers back out; I executed a perfect spinning heal kick right into the damn plate glass window. I’m here to tell you; I’m damn lucky I didn’t cut my fucking foot off, but the window was history. Gone.
Two to a crate (these were double, two man, crates), we ran in over a shitload of broken glass, and liberated what we wanted. Six cases of whiskey. We went back in again to get about fifteen cases of beer. Talk about laughing…I’m here to tell you.
The last thing we heard was a shotgun blast that hit the tailgate. No shit, we were very very lucky no one was hit. The truck was fucked up though. The gate came off that night, never to be seen again. It was at the bottom of the Atlantic…for sure. To this day, I believe he aimed at the gate, and not us.
All said and done: We left a couple cases of liquor, and about five cases of beer, broken in the parking lot. What’s a little more glass?
My feet were sliced up pretty bad, and there was no way I was going for stitches, so I was hobbling for a couple of weeks. I did get some dedicated attention.
Amazing what women will make you do!
Was the mission a success? Hell yes, but I guess it depends on how you value the good things in life.
Posted by Yabu at October 25, 2005 05:14 PM | The Past
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.. yep... there is a leader in every bunch, man...
.. but walking over broken glass for booze?... that barefoot story was hardcore...
Posted by: Eric at October 26, 2005 08:02 AM
I kicked out a window once, but wearing the biggest ol' pair of waffle stompers you've ever seen. I was never quite hardcore enough to try something like that barefoot.
Posted by: Frank L. at October 27, 2005 03:01 AM
"Amazing what women will make you do!"
Please tell me you got some after all that...
Posted by: Kelly at October 27, 2005 11:36 AM
