Read Online Paper Chasers by Mark Anthony - Free Book Online Page B

Dwight’s demands as they briskly followed his orders to the letter.
    Then Wiggie pulled the car over to the curb.
    â€œThank you ladies,” Wiggie said calmly. “And, uh, y’all make sure y’all have a nice day, OK? Uh . . . uh . . . Lisa? Can I still call you?” Wiggie asked in a shy, nerdy voice.
    With that the three of us burst out into laughter. As we drove away Wiggie yelled out of the window.
    â€œThis better not be a fake number, either!” Wiggie’s last comedic comment really caused us to double over in tear-jerking laughter. Lisa and Kim were left standing on the corner crying and in shock.
    We managed to take from them four gold rings, one bracelet, a gold chain, two sets of gold earrings, and thirty dollars in cash, all of which wasn’t too bad considering how easy it was. There was just something inside me that made me feel very cowardly as I realized that we had just jacked two defenseless women. Needless to say, I felt like a real punk. Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one with a pulse. Wiggie’s conscience was speaking to him too.
    â€œYo, we shouldn’t have jacked them. I mean they were ladies,” Wiggie said.
    â€œI don’t care if they were ladies!” Dwight rudely interrupted. “I’m gonna tell y’all again just like I’ve already been preaching to y’all. We’re robbing women, we’re robbing men, we’re robbing anybody and everybody! What!”
    Neither I nor Wiggie replied. We both just sat and let Dwight’s words marinate in our minds.
    After driving in silence for about two minutes, Wiggie managed to finally break the silence by suggesting that we step up our game and rob the next nigga that we saw. I guess his reasoning was that it would make all of us feel more manly.
    So after having driven deeper into Long Island, we decided to stop in a town called Massapequa. We were all feeling hungry, so we decided to dip into some of the money that we had stolen and buy ourselves something to eat. A hamburger spot called White Castle was what we all agreed upon.
    After we’d finished eating the “Murder Burgers,” as they are commonly referred to in New York, we sat for a bit, just to let our food digest. We talked, burped, farted, and kicked it for about twenty minutes, then it was time to get back to work.
    â€œCome on, y’all, let’s be out,” Wiggie dictated.
    The three of us departed. We had work to do so we immediately resumed driving in the quest for yet another robbery victim, one whom we all agreed would have to be a black male.
    It seemed as if it had taken less than a minute after our lunch break for us to pick out a new victim. He was a black male, about twenty-one-years-old. He looked as if he could have fit right in with our crew. However, he did have that “Long Island” look about him—that sissy look. One big difference about coming from Queens or any other borough in New York City and going out to Long Island was the contrasting looks. The city look was a much more tougher, slumish look, while the Long Island look was more punkish and suburbanish.
    The victim that we selected was standing next to a white Volkswagen Jetta, talking on a payphone. We proceeded to park our car alongside the curb right behind his car. Dwight got out of the car, went to the adjacent pay telephone, and pretended like he was using it.
    Wiggie and I sensed that the guy knew what was up. He knew that we were plotting evil. The guy was wearing a thick gold herring bone chain with a nice gold medallion. He kept putting quarters into the phone in order to keep his conversation going. As he was talking on the phone, he nonchalantly tucked his chain inside his shirt.
    After five minutes or so, Dwight stopped pretending as if he was talking on the phone and he made his way back to our car.
    â€œYo, Dee, he knows what’s up,” I said.
    â€œYeah, I know, I know. I’m just