Read Online American Desperado by Jon Roberts, Evan Wright - Free Book Online
Authors: Jon Roberts, Evan Wright
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friend they had and tell them to bring all their money because they were going to sell them the best pot in the world. We’d grab every moron college kid that came through the door. We tied up so many in one house, we ran out of electrical cords.
We knew these kids would be too scared to call the cops after we left. They couldn’t. They were doing an illegal thing. If any of these kids wanted to be tough, they’d never seen animals like us before.
At sixteen or seventeen I was now a very bad person. My friends were the same. Our attitude was, You want to fight? We will break your hands, bite your ears off, whatever we need to do to make our point. We have no feelings. We are from the street . Half the Outcasts were junkies at this point. When they saw money in front of them, their eyes blinked like pinball machines. I introduced these college kids to my way of thinking. Evil is stronger than good. When I am alone in your house with you, you will learn this, too .
I’m not proud of the way I acted, but I can’t take it back. I did this.
A few kids tried to be brave. One kid told us he was a fifth-degree black belt in karate. Dominic, the best fighter in the Outcasts, said, “Okay. I’m going to give you the best shot you got. After that I’m going to fuck you up.”
We had guns, so we knew if the kid by some miracle actually knew karate and hurt Dominic, we’d shoot him. We let the kid loose. He asked if he could warm up. We sat back and watched as he did some kicks and stretches, like he’s giving a class in Princeton karate. Finally Dominic walks up to him and says, “Okay.”
The kid gives Dominic his best kick to the chin and misses.
“That’s your Princeton karate?” Dominic asks.
Dominic gives him some Jersey karate—he kicks him in the balls. He throws the kid through a door, beats him down, stomps him. I’m laughing my ass off when I feel my shoe crunch on the floor. Dominic had knocked the kid’s teeth out of his head. Dominic got so crazed with beating him, he broke the kid’s arms, his legs. He fucked him up to the point where I’m sure he never told anybody ever again he was a fifth degree in anything.
We had an incident where a college kid pulled a gun. He was so excited, he shot himself in the leg. We took the gun from him and shot him in his other leg. When it comes to defending himself, the average college kid isn’t worth three dead flies.
There are not a lot of tough people in normal society. Many guys will act brave for a few seconds, but as soon as you hurt them, all that bravery goes out the window. You bite someone’s ear off, you break his fingers, shoot his legs, and he will come around. A guy who fights every day of his life reacts differently. This guy, when you hurt him, he fights harder. Very few men react like this. And those who do are dangerous people.
For me, robberies were my amusement. Jack Buccino was as sick as me. Since he fancied himself an actor, his enjoyment was the acting we did to befriend our victims. Jack always thought he was on stage. After we were done, he was so out of his mind, we’d be in the attic of his mother’s house counting the money, and Jack would ask me, “You think I played the part good?”
Sometimes, just to eat his guts out, I’d tell him, “You didn’t do a good job acting today.”
When Jack and I went out to set up different kids, we would have contests to see who got bigger rip-offs. That was our game. Most kids our age were competing in things like “Hey, I got six home runs.”
With Jack it was “I stole $2,200.”
“I got $3,000.”
“You won, motherfucker.”
That was our fun.
M Y SISTER did not give up on me. When I was seventeen, she came down to New York. She saw my apartment, the nice clothes I had, and she knew I was not doing things legally. She begged me to get a real job. She actually believed I could go into the straight world. That’s how good my sister was. Good people can’t understand how truly
We knew these kids would be too scared to call the cops after we left. They couldn’t. They were doing an illegal thing. If any of these kids wanted to be tough, they’d never seen animals like us before.
At sixteen or seventeen I was now a very bad person. My friends were the same. Our attitude was, You want to fight? We will break your hands, bite your ears off, whatever we need to do to make our point. We have no feelings. We are from the street . Half the Outcasts were junkies at this point. When they saw money in front of them, their eyes blinked like pinball machines. I introduced these college kids to my way of thinking. Evil is stronger than good. When I am alone in your house with you, you will learn this, too .
I’m not proud of the way I acted, but I can’t take it back. I did this.
A few kids tried to be brave. One kid told us he was a fifth-degree black belt in karate. Dominic, the best fighter in the Outcasts, said, “Okay. I’m going to give you the best shot you got. After that I’m going to fuck you up.”
We had guns, so we knew if the kid by some miracle actually knew karate and hurt Dominic, we’d shoot him. We let the kid loose. He asked if he could warm up. We sat back and watched as he did some kicks and stretches, like he’s giving a class in Princeton karate. Finally Dominic walks up to him and says, “Okay.”
The kid gives Dominic his best kick to the chin and misses.
“That’s your Princeton karate?” Dominic asks.
Dominic gives him some Jersey karate—he kicks him in the balls. He throws the kid through a door, beats him down, stomps him. I’m laughing my ass off when I feel my shoe crunch on the floor. Dominic had knocked the kid’s teeth out of his head. Dominic got so crazed with beating him, he broke the kid’s arms, his legs. He fucked him up to the point where I’m sure he never told anybody ever again he was a fifth degree in anything.
We had an incident where a college kid pulled a gun. He was so excited, he shot himself in the leg. We took the gun from him and shot him in his other leg. When it comes to defending himself, the average college kid isn’t worth three dead flies.
There are not a lot of tough people in normal society. Many guys will act brave for a few seconds, but as soon as you hurt them, all that bravery goes out the window. You bite someone’s ear off, you break his fingers, shoot his legs, and he will come around. A guy who fights every day of his life reacts differently. This guy, when you hurt him, he fights harder. Very few men react like this. And those who do are dangerous people.
For me, robberies were my amusement. Jack Buccino was as sick as me. Since he fancied himself an actor, his enjoyment was the acting we did to befriend our victims. Jack always thought he was on stage. After we were done, he was so out of his mind, we’d be in the attic of his mother’s house counting the money, and Jack would ask me, “You think I played the part good?”
Sometimes, just to eat his guts out, I’d tell him, “You didn’t do a good job acting today.”
When Jack and I went out to set up different kids, we would have contests to see who got bigger rip-offs. That was our game. Most kids our age were competing in things like “Hey, I got six home runs.”
With Jack it was “I stole $2,200.”
“I got $3,000.”
“You won, motherfucker.”
That was our fun.
M Y SISTER did not give up on me. When I was seventeen, she came down to New York. She saw my apartment, the nice clothes I had, and she knew I was not doing things legally. She begged me to get a real job. She actually believed I could go into the straight world. That’s how good my sister was. Good people can’t understand how truly
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