THE INSIDE STORY Volume Six
Summer, 1985
Published by:
Creative Writing Class Corning Community College at Elmira Correctional Facility
STAFF
Editor:	Ronald Fenty
Editorial Staff:	Tony Quinones, Raymond Gonzalez, Terry Losicco,
Dean Smith, Larry "Foots"Thompson
Proofreading Staff:	Keith Waters, Rossi K. Taylor, Sr., Jack
Moyd
Artists:	Brent A. Belfance, John Williams
Advisor: Sally Carr
Copyright @1985 Inside Story Publications, Corning Community College
After first publication, all rights revert to original authors-
CONTENTS
Page	Title	Author
5	The Visit	Tony Quinones
6	No End	Tony Quinones
7	Next Time For Sure	Raymond Gonzalez
11	Freedom Train Ride	Clifford Grosvenor
12	Double Play	John Williams
16	Haiku	
17	A Night to Remember	Brent A. Belfance
18	Stiletto	Jack Moyd
19	Blackout	Terry Losicco
21	Haiku	
22	Dusk	Jack Moyd
23	Fantasy	Dean Smith
25	Haiku	
26	No Guarantee	Tony Quinones
30	Haiku	
31	Thief	Raymond Gonzalez
33	Pink Panther Exclusive	Terry Losicco
34	Expectations	John Williams
35	Misled	Ronald Fenty
43	Masquerade	Jack Moyd
45	Mistaken Identity	Brent A. Belfance
48	Wisdom Woman	Clifford Grosvenor
49	Not a Worry in the World	Jack Moyd
51	Fractured Fairy Tales	Raymond Gonzalez Ronald Fenty Rossi K. Taylor, Sr.
54	I Am	Larry "Foots" Thompson
55	Friendship	Keith Waters
61	A Day in the Ball Park	Dean Smith
62	Flashback	Rossi K. Taylor, Sr.
64	The Next Poem	Clifford Grosvenor
65	The Payoff	Larry "Foots" Thompson
68	Finger Lakes	Sally Carr
THE VISIT
Tony Quinones
I stood outside the door with my heart pounding. The stench of the hospital hall hit me in the face. Room 315 was marked off. I closed my eyes, imagining the sight that lay beyond the thin sheet of wood: A sterile hospital room with no movement. A desk with flowers. Napkins unused on the stand. The body now 25 pounds lighter. Eyes closed, facial skin structure stretched by its thinness. The wires and tubes protruding from her body in various directions. My head pressed against the door as a patient was wheeled by me.
I finally pulled myself together and stepped in. As I entered the room, everything was just as I had imagined it except there was more. The darkness of the room was new to me; it seemed as if death itself had invaded every crevice. I walked over to her bedside, immediately noticing the odors that comes from being totally idle. Her bedsores were covered by the hospital robe, yet I could still visualize the rainbow coloration on her thin buttocks. I pulled the only chair over and sat down. I took her fragile hand and held it. So many memories of our laughter fluttered through my mind. I thought I was going to cry, but once again, I didn't.
The nurse walked in and didn't look at me. She proceeded to check some of the apparatus that was making life possible. We didn't speak. After checking the equipment, she eased out of the room with the same air of indifference which she had used to ease in.
I started talking to her, like a child who talks to his imaginary friend.
"You know," I began almost sheepishly, "Everybody misses you. The crowd keeps asking me when you are coming home.
"You remember Juanita? She's on the verge of having another bambino. You know, it's her fifth child; if she has another boy,
I bet she'll quit dreaming about having that little girl.
"I guess you get tired of hearing me tell you how much we all miss you, but it's true. Won't you please get well?"
The sound of electricity interrupted my thoughts. After some time, I grew tired of talking. I got up and went over to the sink. I turned the knob. The water that gushed out seemed harsh and noisy. I washed my face, trying to bring life back into my emotions. I looked in the mirror, and shook my head with vigor. Then I sat back down, my head hanging low.
5
The thoughts that danced through my mind were inconsistent. I felt so lost and alone. Finally, I heard the bell that signals the end of each hospital visit. I stood up and reached over to her face, softly caressing her warm cheek. I bent over and kissed her forehead and made the sign of the cross. Tomorrow, I would have to bring flowers. I walked out of room 315, not wanting to look behind me.
NO END
To live and not to suffer There is no such affair For pleasure comes from learning That life just isn't fair.
A smile with a touch of sorrow This seems to be life's theme;
Not living for tomorrow This seems to be the scheme.
The beauty in this poem Is that there is no end . . . Concerning joy and sorrow And how life makes them blend.
Tony Quilfones
6
NEXT TIME FOR SURE
Raymond Gonzalez
Ray, Freddy, Victor, Jose,and Jimmy were really feeling good on this Saturday night. All of their rehearsals had had their effect, and tonight they were really going to give it their all.
They were members of "The Party Riders," a dance group which originated in the South Bronx. Ray—better known as "Ray-Rock" for his dance routines—was the group coordinator. He had taught them how to breakdance and had given them their floor names: Freddy was " Swift" because of his foot speed on the floor. Victor was" LightFoot" because his feet never seemed to stay on the ground. Jose had an awesome floor show so they named him "Malo" which means bad in Spanish, and Johnny's routine was mostly spins so he was named "Cyclone."
The Party Riders met at Yankee Stadium handball courts at 8 p.m. and set off to "First Class," a disco six blocks away from the stadium. Every member of the gang was under the influence of L.S.D., and they each had their own supply of marijuana. The group was dressed in their dance gear: burgundy and white nylon Adidas suit, white on white leather Adidas sneakers, white gloves, and white hats with their dance names printed on the front in burgundy letters.
At 8:15 p.m., The Party Riders arrived at First Class, a very large disco four blocks long and two blocks wide. Inside, First Class was awesome: There were two levels—each of which had a giant bar which stretched the length of the western wall. There were two giant-sized dance floors—one on each level—and there was a balcony on the top level which overlooked the dance floor of the main level. At the eastern wall of each level, there were couches, chairs, and tables. The light show of this disco was totally enthralling, said to be the best light structure of any disco.
On weekends First Class usually had a crowd of about 2500 people, and they would all come to party. On this particular Saturday night, there was a dance contest scheduled, and the crowd was larger than usual. Dance groups from all over New York State Were going to compete for the title so it was a major event.
Ray-Rock, let's go upstairs and get nice," said Malo with an ®cid grin stuck on his face.
II w
wn® and Swift are gonna take a look to see what we're up against; e 11 be upstairs in about fifteen minutes. And Malo..."
"Yo?»
"TVi
e night is still young. Don't get too stoned."
7
"No problem, Ray-Rock."
Ray-Rock and Swift took a walk on the main level, and they saw other groups warming up on the dance floor. Their arch rivals, The Bronx Breakers, were warming up against New Yorks' Finest, and watching them were The Fun City Crew. Ray-Rock saw The Kooling Out Crew by the disc jockey's booth, and he learned that Dr. Rock and the Imperial Masters were going to be mixing tonight's music.
Ray-Rock and Swift met the rest of the Party Riders as planned, and after smoking some herb, they started to warm up.
"Yo, Swift."
"What's going on, Lightfoot?"
"What does it look like? Are we winners?"
"Every Party Rider is born a winner, you know what I mean?"
"Most definitely, homeboyl"
The Party Riders walked as one toward the dance floor, and they didn't stop until they were right in front of The Bronx Breakers.
"You guy's ready for us?" Ray-Rock asked his hometown rivals.
"We don't need to be ready for you bums." answered Charlie Rock, the leader of The Bronx Breakers.
"Save it, C-Rock. Tonight we find out who the real "Rock" is, so be ready to rock against the chief rocker, Ray-Rock."
The M. C. for the night, Smokey C, announced the names of the groups who were competing, and after every name there were loud cheers and booming applause. After announcing the groups, Smokey C stated the rulesi "All right breakers, pick your opponents for the first round; and then we'll have individual showdowns. There is only to be one dancer from each group that is battling, no free-for-alls. The limit is two jams per showdown, so go for what you know, and good luckl"
Fifteen minutes later the schedules were posted on the bulletin board of the main level. The Party Riders were scheduled to dance in the third Bhowdown against The Bronx Breakers. The contest was being run with eliminations, so if a group lost any showdowns, they were out of the contest.
The Party Riders went to the top level to watch the first rounds of the contest from the balcony, and across from them on the other side of the balcony were The Bronx Breakers. The two groups looked at each other across the balcony, and there was a moment of silence. Suddenly the music blared and the contest had begun*
8
"Yo, Swift, what do you think about those Floor Master Dancers?"
"Lookin' good; but I don't know, Cyclone. "New York's Finest" ain't no chumps. It's going to be a hellifying contest, that's definite 1"
"Yo, Ray-Rock."
"What's up, Malo?"
"Look at the way The Bronx Breakers are scopin' us down. I'd feel better if I had my piece on me, man."
"Don't sweat it. They're going to give us a run for our money all right, but it's gonna' be on the dance floor so get ready to rockl"
"Maaan, I've dreamt about beating the Breakers in an all out contest; and now that we've got the chance I plan to live up to my name—Malo Love from up above 1"
"Get yours, Malol"
The second showdown was almost over and Ray-Rock got the group together by shouting, "Party Riders, unitel" As the group huddled up, Ray-Rock said."O.K, you fellas know the deal. No arguin' against our rivals; we're here to dance. Stick to the routine unless I say different, and don't forget—one dancer at a time. Now, dance your asses offl"
The Party Riders formed a single line at the edge of the staircase, and The Bronx Breakers fell into a single line parallel to them. Ray-Rock started down the stairs, and Charlie Rock matched him step for step. At the bottom of the stairs, Ray-Rock and The Party Riders turned left, and Charlie Rock and The Bronx Breakers fell off to the right.
"Yes, yes, yes. Looks like a battle between The Bronx's best. For all you Bombers we have a treat. Two groups from your way are gonna' rock the beat. We have The Party Riders, and The Bronx Breakers. This oughta be a special treat, 'cause all of these dudes are quick on their feet. My name is Smokey C, and I m sure you'll agree, that this showdown right here will go down in history. Let's hear it for The Boogie Down Bronxl"
Loud roars enveloped the disco as The Party Riders and The Bronx Breakers eyed each other across the dance floor, and after a brief silence the music blared louder than ever.
Bwlft automatically jumped to the center of the dance floor and Parted to B-boy. He was met at the center by a Bronx Breaker, who started to top rock. Swift broke into a head spin, which in burn became a full back spin. The crowd went wildl
9
Cyclone was already spinning on his upper back when he reached the center of the floor.
"Look at Cyclone go, Manl Shit, he's burnin' that chump on the floor," exclaimed Malo.
But even as Malo spoke, Cyclone was making the Breaker look like an amateur. Another Breaker didn't like that, and he jumped on the dance floor behind Malo—deliberately breaking the rules.
"Oh, shitl What the fuck is that?I" cried Lightfoot.
"That chump's breakin' the rules, manl It's supposed to be one on one. I'm goin' in, Swift. You with me?"
"We're all with you, Ray; ain't nobody gonna do that shit to Cyclone."
The Party Riders surrounded the intruder on the dance floor and started to insinuate things by their body movements—totally disrespecting him. The other Breakers retaliated, and all at once all of the groups joined in the free for all. The judges disqualified everyone, and the contest was rescheduled. Smokey C made the announcement, but nobody heard.
"Let's go, Party Riders," called Ray-Rock.
As the Party Riders were leaving the disco, the Bronx Breakers were standing at the door.
"Yo, Ray-Rock, it ain't over yeti"
"You did it on purpose, chump; but next time tells it all C-Rock, without questionl" exclaimed Ray-Rock as he and the Party Riders turned the corner.
"We had 'em, Ray-Rock, damnl"
"Next time, Malo, next time for sure ..."
10
FREEDOM TRAIN RIDE
Malcolm slain
. .	. on the freedom train ride.
Blown away like summer days
That give way to autumn's dying leaves.
Malcolm is freel He lives
In cassettes and eight track tapes,
On records and in books meditated upon,
In silent thoughts of esurient young
Who were too angry to listen to methodical guidance
When Malcolm was a physical reality,
In the old who knew Malcolm But were too set in their ways To venture into Malcolm's words When he spoke deeply of life For people stooped in misery,
Too afraid of truth
That must unbalance delicate threads of existence If pondered on.
And Malcolm knew he would die,
When he first boarded
The freedom train ride . .	.
Clifford Grosvenor
11
DOUBLE PLAY
John Williams
Richard and Andrea approached the boarding gate to Flight 211 to London, England, at Kennedy Airport. As they reached the metal detector, Richard opened his overnight bag and produced an M10 Ingram submachine gun. He leveled the weapon at the two airport police officers and ordered them to drop their gun belts on the floor.
Andrea pulled out a .44 magnum and grabbed a nearby woman. David and Jeff Coleman, who had been twenty feet behind Richard and Andrea, appeared. They also carried M10 Ingram submachine guns.
"Dave, cut off the metal detector," Richard ordered in an authoritative voice.
"It's off," David replied.
"0. K. Let's board the plane."
As David and Andrea motioned the two police officers and the woman toward the open plane hatch, Richard and Jeff covered the employee boarding gate entrance. Suddenly, two more armed guards entered the short tunnel.
"Hold it right there," Richard yelled.
The warning went unheeded as both officers reached for their service revolvers. Before either guard could draw his weapon, Jeff cut them both down, killing them instantly with a short burst of 9 mm slugs.
As David and Andrea pushed the hostages into the plane hatch, they were met by 127 frightened passengers and 4 stewardesses. They had all heard the shots.
Inside the air terminal, police officers rushed to the scene of the shooting and barricaded the area. The bodies of the slain officers were quickly covered and removed. Excited and panic-stricken people stretched their necks in an attempt to see what was happening. Witnesses of the shooting whispered to eager ears about what they had seen. Stories spread through the airport.
Richard Washington and Jeff Coleman stepped into the plane behind David and Andrea. Richard quickly took charge of the situation and ordered everyone seated, stewardesses included. He did not notice the two bald headed black men, seated in the rear, both wearing overcoats. Had he taken time to study the passengers more closely, he might have realized that the heavy coats were out of place on the temperature controlled plane.
12
Richard stepped into the cockpit of the plane, his weapon aimed at the pilot. The co pilot and navigator watched the young, lean, dark-complexioned man with angry eyes, but offered no resistance. They would cooperate 100% to ensure the safety of the passengers. The plane moved onto the runway.
Richard picked up the microphone to speak with the control tower, also turning on the plane's intercom so the passengers could hear him.
"We are members of the Oppressed Race of North America. No one will be hurt unless our demands are not met. We want ten million dollars and the release of the 6 men and 4 women arrested at the ORNA headquarters four months ago. They will be released and flown to Arabia with the money. They will be allowed to board this plane. The plane and hostages will be flown to another destination where they will be released. You have twelve hours to meet our deadline. If our demands are not met on time, a passenger will be executed every five minutes. If we run out of passengers, we will then kill ourselves. We are not afraid to die l"
Pandemonium broke through the plane as the passengers spoke to each other about whether the demands might be met. The two bald, black men spoke quietly to each other.
"Muhammad, what do we do now? We did not plan for this. Whoever heard of two groups hijacking the same plane?"
"Nothing has changed, Rashaad. We will reveal ourselves to these people and make our demands as planned. They have no choice. We each have twenty pounds of explosives strapped to our bodies, and we will detonate them if our demands are not met."
"But, Muhammad, they have weapons and are also not afraid to die."
"They won't use the weapons, and if we must all die it is the will of Allah."
Muhammad hated Rashaad. The man was a sniveling idiot. Rashaad had the physical body of a powerful man, but his eyes held fear.
The noise of the passengers started to get on Andrea's nerves. She pointed the muzzle of her weapon at them and ordered them to shut up. Silence was instant.
Andrea, a sensually appealing woman of 26 with long auburn hair and a coffee complexion, returned to her position. As she sat watching the hostages, her mind wandered. What am I doing here? she thought, and quickly answered herself.
13
She was here to represent the oppressed people, her people, who lived in ghettos, who constantly fought against the system in a losing battle for equality, The racist government would have to acknowledge the fact that it was time for change.
The government gave away billions in financial aid to foreigners when right in America people were starving, living like animals, dying. She had cried for her people, and finally she joined the ORNA. They had protested peacefully at first, but no changes came about, so now it came down to this. It was the only way. She knew all the others felt the same way, especially Richard; and that was one of the reasons she loved him. . .
Muhammad opened his overcoat and his suit jacket to reveal the explosives. He raised his hand and motioned to David. David Coleman, well-muscled, dark-skinned, and identical to his brother Jeff, walked down the aisle toward the older passenger. When he reached the two men, Muhammad handed him a slip of paper. David read its
"We represent the Muslim Freedom Movement. We have explosives, and we demand that this plane be flown to Nigeria. We will not hesitate to blow up ourselves and everyone else on the plane."
David stepped back, looked at the two men in surprise, and leveled his Ingram submachine gun at them. Then, he noticed thee shining silver box in the Muslim's hand and the explosives around his waist.
"Jeffl Get Richardl" David handed his twin the paper. In less than 45 seconds, Richard Washington appeared. As he walked toward the rear of the plane, Andrea stopped him and asked what was going on. He handed her the slip of paper and continued to the rear.
Richard motioned with his hand for Muhammad and Rashaad to follow him into the small kitchen. The other passengers watched and wondered. David followed, leaving Andrea to guard the hostages and Jeff to watch the pilots.
Inside the kitchen, Richard spoke. "It seems to me we have a problem, gentlemen."
"Yes," Muhammad replied. "You and your people have interfered with our plans. We cannot tolerate this. We have a task to perform."
"I sympathize with you, brother; and I know of your organization; but our plans are already being put into action."
"I do not care about your plans. I know only what has to be done concerning my people. You will cooperate or we all die."
14
II
"I've got the guns, mister.
"The name is Muhammad, and I've got the explosives. Surrender." "No chance."
Muhammad raised the detonator. "You will cooperate."
"Wait a minute," David said. "Richard, can we talk?"
Richard and David stepped to the side, weapons still trained on Muhammad and Rashaad.
"Richard, let's see if we can compromise with them."
"I won't. It doesn't fit in the plans."
"Well, I don't think we have much choice. We didn't foresee this situation."
"True enough, David, but I don't think they want to compromise."
"We can at least try. It doesn't make sense to die without trying. We are here for a purpose. So what if things have changed a little? We can still fulfill our mission."
The two turned back to the older men. "Mr. Muhammad, we are prepared to make a deal," Richard said.
"No deals. My way or we all die. My people will tolerate nothing less. There are others who are negotiating for the release of several hundred Muslims in Israel. I cannot make deals with you."
"You will accomplish nothing by blowing up this plane."
"But I will. All these people will die as an example. My people will make other arrangements and take more hostages. This plane will be an example of things to come. The American Government and the Israelis will know we are dedicated to our goal."
"Wait. Give me 15 minutes to talk to my people."
"Very well. You have 15 minutes," Muhammad said triumphantly.
Richard knew what had to be done. As he walked down the aisle, he talked calmly to David. The passengers whispered and looked at him with worried eyes. He stopped beside Andrea and told her the situation. He also told her his plans. He was her man, and she would follow. Richard walked into the cockpit and whispered to Jeff, telling him the situation and his decision just as he had told Andrea and David. He was the leader. They would follow. Richard picked up the microphone and spoke to the control tower.
15
"This is Richard Washington of the ORNA. Due to circumstances beyond my control, the mission is being terminated. Others will follow our path. A change will come about. It is inevitable that the oppressed in North America receive freedom, justice, and equality. This is only the beginning. Over. . . "
The pilot, co pilot and navigator looked at him and said, "Are you giving up?"
"No, I'm just getting started," Richard replied. Leaving Jeff and the pilots in the cockpit, Richard walked over to Andrea and kissed her softly, stroking her auburn hair. No words were spoken. Their eyes said it all. Andrea understood and accepted their fate.
"Muhammad," Richard called out.
Muhammad and Rashaad appeared. David was right behind them.
"No deal," Richard said.
HAIKU
Butterflies are sweet They dance, dive, and float on air Untouched by us.
Brent A. Belfance
All alone in life Like a bird up in the sky Free to be alive
Raymond Gonzalez
The beautiful sky Where birds constantly soar free Why couldn't it be me?
Keith Waters
In a hidden cave Unseen by the observer I must live my life
Raymond Gonzalez
16
A NIGHT TO REMEMBER
Brent A. Belfance
Standing outside of her door, John composed himself until he felt ready to ring the bell. His friend PaPo had set him up on a blind date. John could still remember his exact words. "Listen, buddy, after you have dinner with this girl you'll always remember her." Hands shaking with anticipation, he reached out and pushed the door bell.
He could hear the sound of chimes playing their greeting call and the loud thud of her shoes as she closed the distance from him to her. The door flew open as if a great pressure had blasted it in. Standing face to face were John and his blind date.
She was 6'4" and weighed approximately 230 pounds. Looking straight ahead, John could see only her midsection. His eyes grew like saucers as they made their journey upward. On her neck was a tattoo of a skull that pulsated from her hoarse breathing.
"What the hell kind of friend do I have?" John thought. By this time, the muscle bound maiden snatched him by the shoulder and dragged him inside. There was no escape in sight for John. "All I have to do is make it through dinner," he comforted himself.
Dinner, at the very least, wasn't very tasteful to John. He didn't want to sit next to her, but now he regretted sitting across from her. Food was flying left and right as she stuffed it into her mouth with both hands. The food that didn't quite make it in just dribbled down her fat cheeks or oozed out of the corners of her mouth.
"The wine," John groaned. "How can she even suggest that I have some after she had her fat lips wrapped around it? At least she could have drunk it out of a glass instead of straight from the bottle."
John felt relief after the dinner was over. "Now to make my retreat," he thought. He could see that wasn't going to be easy. The girl stood between him and the door. "Oh, my Godl" John thought as the girl started flexing her muscles. "She's reading my mind i"
"I'll just impress him with the size of my biceps," thought the girl.
"Damn, I hope she doesn't put me in a headlock with those ape armsl" John gave a weak smile, and the girl took it as a sign that John liked her.
"Wowl I got me a man at lastl"
17
John saw her eyes light up, and he wondered, "Now what in the hell is she going to do?" She started to move toward him with outstretched arms. Was she going to manhandle him? Sweat gathered on his forehead.
"Now, look at thatl" she thought. "He wants to play hard to getl What a man 1"
John started to run. He had to find the door that lead him into this place. "Please, God, help me find the door." At last, he stumbled onto it and made his escape.
As the girl watched him run down the landing of the stairs, she thought, "He'll be back. I know he loves me."
Outside on the streets, John exclaimed, "I'll kill that bastard for getting me into thisl" as he continued his fast pace home.
STILETTO
From the middle to the end,
You never see the start.
Quietly, but knowingly,
She's stolen away your heart.
Then, you notice a paper cut Stinging upon your face.
Before you know it, it's too late;
You're bleeding all over the place.
After quick surgery, you patch it up So no one else can see How her clever incision was made So swift and easily.
And just when you thought the bill was paid For picking up her tab,
You look into the mirror, and you find She's torn away the scab.
Jack Moyd
18
i
BLACKOUT
Terry Losicco
On July 8, 1977, Anthony and Spanky were just getting off the 5 train at Dyre Avenue in the Bronx. It had been a relatively profitable afternoon for the two of them. They had $1,500 apiece in their pockets from a geese in Bay Side a few hours before. While wallking up 233, the two discussed what they should invest their money in.
"Spanky, why don't we put up $500 apiece and buy 1,000 tabs of Mesc and sell it for $3 a pop? We'll clear a gee apiece easy."
"Sounds cool to me, Anthony. Only where we gonna buy the mesc?"
"No problem. Little Charlie in Co-op City has chemicals."
A half hour later Anthony and Spanky were at Little Charlie's apartment copping 1,000 tabs of purple Mesc.
"Anthony, I'm a little short on funds right now. I'm gonna have to sell it to you for a dollar a pop."
"Damn, Little Charlie, that's a bit steep, wouldn't you say? Shit, I'm buying 1,000 of the fuckin' things 1"
"I'm sorry, Anthony. Like I said I'm short on funds right now."
"All right, fuck it. I'm in a hurry or I'd go elsewhere, paisan'."
After buying their product, Anthony and Spanky headed home. They made arrangements before parting to meet at 15 Park at 6:30 where they would decide what to do that night.
After a good, solid dinner and a relaxing shower and change of clothes, Anthony and Spanky met at 15 Park to decide what would be of interest to them this warm summer night. The park was beginning to fill with people playing their boxes and getting high. There was a basketball game in progress with at least 30 quarts of beer lined neatly on the wall.
"Spanky, you got some papers?"
"Yeah, here. Roll it under the light so you can see."
"This reefer is good. I smoked a joint in the bathroom before I left my house. My mother's gonna have a fuckin' fit if she goes in there right away."
"My old lady gets on my case, too, when I get high in the house."
19
Just then, all the lights in the park went out. Everything stopped except the music from the boxes.
"What the fuck is goin' on, Spank?"
"I don't know. Let's check out the block."
Once out of the park, Anthony and Spanky were bewildered to see that in every direction they looked the lights were out. It was only a matter of minutes before they realized New York had just had another blackout.
"You know the deal, Spank. Let's get paid, Goombal"
"Why don't we check out the stores on Dyre?"
"I was thinking the same thing. Let's go."
By the time they got to Dyre Avenue, people were running in and out of stores with virtually anything they could get their hands on. With the window already smashed open, Anthony and Spanky nonchalantly walked into a liquor store and started stacking up cases of the finest liquor in the joint.
"Spanky, grab all the Bacardi, Southern Comfort, J. D., and vodka. My Uncle Joe has an After Hours in Brooklyn. He'll give us $130 a case."
"Where we gonna put them all, Anthony?"
"Don't worry. Stack them all up in the middle of the floor. Then we'll have to get a car someplace."
After stacking 40 cases of liquor in the middle of the floor, Spanky walked out the door and up the block a little way before he found what he was looking for. It was a brown Dodge Charger, a relatively big car with plenty of room in the back. He smashed the driver's window and opened the door. In a matter of minutes, he hot wired the car and was in front of the liquor store as Anthony knew he would be.
"Come on. Let's get the shit out of here."
"How many cases we got?"
"I counted 40, Spanky. That's $5,200 right there, home boy."
"Where we gonna bring this shit, Anthony? 40 cases is a lot of liquor."
■
"I already thought of that. We'll put it in my neighbor's back yard. He'll never know it's there. Even if he does, he wouldn't say anything as long as we give him one."
20
"That's cool. We can bring it to your uncle's tomorrow anyway so it won't be there long."
After they filled the car with the cases, there was just enough room for the two of them to fit. They quickly dropped off the cases in Anthony's neighbor's back yard, then headed to a jewelry store on Fordham Road.
"Shit, Spanky, the fuckin' store has gates on it."
"Fuck them gatesl" From under the seat Spanky pulled out a towing chain.
"Holy shitl Luck of the Irish, eh Spank?"
"Something like that, I guess."
Spanky quickly hooked one end of the chain to the gate of the store and the other end to the back of the bumper of the car.
"All right, Anthony, go ahead. Not too fast, though."
With a strong yank from the car, the gates tore right off the front of the store. The glass shattered and left a large hole in the window big enough for the two 14 year olds to easily walk through. Spanky was the first one in the store with Anthony right behind him.
"Anthony, this is all we'll need,and we'll be straight for a long time, paisan'."
"You ain't lying 1"
"Spankyl Watch outl"
But it was too late. The pit bull had his jaws clamped around Spanky's arm, virtually ripping it off; and the dog violently yanked his head back and forth. From the corner of his eyes, Anthony saw two dogs coming after him, and he could see death in their little black eyes just before he dove through a glass picture window with displays of jewelry in it.
When he hit the sidewalk outside the store, he was covered with blood from cuts all over his body. Just before he passed out from loss of blood, he thought, "Spankyl Did we do this for money?"
HAIKU
They only knew him When he rose to his glory So ends the story.
Ronald Fenty
21
DUSK
Here I sit in awe
Of the multishade skies that lurk Outside of my window,
Framed in a rectangle of space.
The woven strands of steel
Criss-cross the spacing
Casting small, square patches of sight
Along these otherwise darkened, blinded walls.
The synthetic windows gleam With the time of life
And the smudged imprints of passing hands And the tainted scars of desperate fingernails That have dug in the ritual of time's embrace
Like land scars left by a hungry, starving dog In search for a distant bone,
Or like the childlike designs
From desperate claws found
On the inside of an animal's cage.
Slowly, the sky fades Into its sleepy coma And mirrors the reflection Of a dying soul.
Jack Moyd
22
FANTASY
Dean Smith
It all began on a normal day. A day like every other day when I would get up at 6:00 and don my Adidas suit to go jogging. I left my house promptly to begin my workout.
After I had been doing my thing for a few blocks, a little fellow came running up to me as if he wanted to hang out. He wasn't too big, about 5 feet 5. His reddish-brown hair topped off a small oval face; his green eyes were small but had a look of intense curiosity in them.
We were running side by side. I turned to look at him. His expression was calm and sensitive, yet I could tell he was pleading for friendship. I detected in his smile an expression of admiration for me. He seemed to be searching for something within me.
My natural instincts told me to be careful. I had done one five year bid and was trying to play it according to society's laws. Still, the kid was cute, no doubt about that. I wondered what he wanted from me.
"What's your name," I asked.
"Willie. What's yours?"
"My name is Slave." I didn't want to give him too much. He began with his gift.
"Slave, I'm trying to get into shape, and you seem very athletic. Maybe you can show me a nice workout routine. We could be friends and maybe work out together."
There was something about this kid that spelled trouble. I just couldn't figure it out. "Look, kid, I don't mind a friend, but I work out hard. You sure you want to hang out?"
"Yeah, Slave, just show me a routine. I catch on fast."
This kid was looking for someone to look up to—someone to lead him down that path of holy harmony. I was just the guy to do it. We entered the municipal park. I ran around the track until Willie was about to croak. I liked him so I ran to the bleachers where we stopped.
"Damn, Slave, you were trying to kill me."
"That was only a few miles. We'll do more tomorrow." I smiled as I said it. "Willie, how old are you?"
"Eighteen, but I can pass for twenty-one."
23
"Willie, they call me Slave because I work hard at my trade. I am an artist, and I paint a beautiful picture of life." I had him going. I was going to put Willie "on." I bombarded him with words, not giving him a chance to think.
"Willie, what we are going to do today is observe people. We are going to see who is weak and kind towards you." He looked like a kid that women would want to take in and use as their own personal freak. "How do you feel about going to the city, Willie?"
"I don't mind, Slave, but if I go back to my crib, my moms is going to start beefing with me if I tell her where I m going. She wanted me to go look for one of those cheap ass summer jobs."
"Look, don't worry about it. When we get to the city, you call her and tell her you left early to do just that. i'll get you some clothes and we'll hang out." I didn't want to tell the kid that I was hooked on him. His expression was that of a happy little puppy who was waiting to be patted on the head.
I didn't know what the day was going to bring, but I knew I was never going to forget it, one way or the other. With the right words, I knew I would have Willie selling dreams to women who were looking for a fantasy.
"Willie, let's jog around to my crib. We'll wash up, catch the train at Euclid, and head for the city."
"That's cool, Slave, we can do it like that." Willie seemed enthusiastic. I was thinking money. The vibes felt very positive. Yeah, I figured it was going to be a money making day. I had to get Willie some sharp looking clothes so he could fit the bill. I brought my stash.
When we got to the city, I took Willie to Saks to get some nice clothes. Being that people took things on face value, Willie would have no problem.
"Wowl Fly guy, you're looking sharp. Any female who sees you definitely will have conversation for you."
"Go ahead, Slave. You're just soupin' me upl"
"Naw, you've got what they want. Let s take the four train to Midtown."
We got on the train and rode to 34th Street. The streets were crowded, and it was time to put things into activation. "Yo, Willie, shoot some game. I wanna see if you are capable of being on your own. Lookl There's a fly female in front of the record shop. Shoot game, little brother."
"You got it, Slave." Willie strolled across the avenue as if he owned the world.
24
"Hey, sweetheart, you're standing there looking lost. How about letting me help you to find yourself?" asked Willie with a smile.
"Please. You shouldn't be talkin' to me. My man is in the store, and he gets very jealous, but you are cute."
"Don't you worry about that. He's not qualified to have you."
Before Willie could shoot any more gift, a tall, slender man came rushing out of the store. "Yo, shorty, what's your problem? That's my woman."
"There's no problem as far as me and her are concerned."
"Stupid motherfucker, i'll kill you." The man took out a small blackjack and hit Willie directly in the temple.
"Oh, my Godl" screamed the woman as she backed away. People came running out of the store to see what was going on.
I ran across the street as soon as Willie was hit. Without thinking, I went into action. My love for the little kid turned me irrational. I pulled out the small stilletto that I carried and slammed it into the man's throat. Blood gushed out, spraying me all over. I knew I had killed him.
I fell to the ground to check Willie. The blow had crushed his skull. Poor kid. He did not get a chance to run.
Suddenly, police cars were all over the place.	"Hold it,
mister," shouted one cop as he jumped out of the car. I stood over Willie in a daze. In a blind rage, I had wasted my life. The poor kid had been trouble. Our day of fantasy had ended much too quickly.
HAIKU
Shadows surround me Clinging to all that I am Leaving me in the dark.
Tony Quinones
Upl Upl and away.
From my cell bars I would say Home's so far away.
Edwin Grigg
25
NO GUARANTEE
Tony Quinones
"Honey, what are you doing?" asked Rico.
"I'm leaving you." Beverly didn't look at Rico. Instead, she walked over to the dresser and started throwing things into her suitcase.
"Come on, Baby. I know I've been neglecting you lately, but you know how I feel about you." Rico tried to get her to look at him, but she avoided his eyes.
"It's no good for me any more." Walking over to the closet, she started pulling her dresses off the bent hangers. Rico watched her and knew that she was one hell of a stubborn person, so he stepped out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen for a beer. "Crackl" went the sound of the can.
Rico looked out the window and watched the kids playing basketball in the school yard. He gulped down his can of beer and reached into the frig for another one. Beverly walked into the kitchen.
"Look, here's your key. And try to understand that it's not just you. I've got to get myself together, and I can't do it being here," she said.
Silence hung in the air. Rico wanted to plead with her, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
"O.K., Bev, I'm not going to get in your way. I'd just like you to know that I love you." Rico choked the last word out.
Beverly kept her eyes on the floor. "Look, take care. I better be leaving," she said.
The door never slammed, but today Rico thought he heard it do so. He spun around, putting his hands on the window and placed his head against the back of his hands. He kept watching the kids, playing in the yard. "I wish I was a kid again," he thought out loud.
The weeks turned into months, and Rico went about life as though it were a ritual: eat, work, sleep. He wasn taking care of himself, and it was starting to show. He sat by the kitchen table, scattered with dirty plates, discarded boxes of Chinese food, and empty beer cans. "Crackl" went the sound. "Shit, I never thought I'd be going to pieces over a woman," he mused. "I've got to get her back. I know. i'll call my man, Harry. He was having the same problems, and now he's back with Susan. Yea, that's what i'll do."
26
Rico had to go down to Tito s Bodega to call because his phone had been disconnected.
"Hello, Har. What's up, bro?"
"Look, I need to see you."
"Yeah, you heard right. She split."
"Can you make it tonight? You know where."
"O. K. See you then."
Rico waved to Tito on his way out.
"No te olvides mi dinero," yelled Tito.
"Seguro," Rico yelled back.
Rico stepped back into his apartment, pulled on a sweatshirt and threw on his sneakers. He was meeting Harry at the old stomping grounds. The ball park. On the way, he picked up a quart of beer. He was already feeling better. Rico was on the line getting ready to shoot a jump shot when Harry blocked the shot from behind.
"You, bum, your usual sneaking up on people," said Rico.
"Ha, ha. I'll slap your game away anytime I want," retorted Harry.
They played a couple of vigorous games, then settled down on the park bench.
I needed some exercise. Felt good," said Rico between gulps of beer.
"What's going on with you, Bro?" Harry asked. "You're not looking like yourself."
"Man, that Beverly rocked my world. I don't know what's her game, but she stepped off on me, and I can't handle it. I really love her, Bro."
Harry looked at Rico and put his hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Bro, I know how you feel. I just went through some changes with Susan, but I 11 tell you a secret. Susan never wanted to come back to me. I found out through my Aunt Lucy that there were other ways of getting the fire going again. I tell you, Bro, I didn't believe in all that voodoo stuff; but I was willing to take a shot at it."
"What are you saying?"
"I put a hex on Susan."
27
"You did whatl"
"I know you might think that's weird, but I'm happy, and Susan doesn't know a thing."
"You're serious, Har1"
"Check it out. You know that Botanica on Hoe Ave.?"
"The one with the cracked glass?"
"Yeah, well, a clerk who works there can help you. Her name is Valerie, and she'll do the job for you."
"What will it run me, Bro?"
"I paid them two hundred bucks, but they don't guarantee nothing. It's all about chance," grinned Harry.
Rico sipped his hot beer, the buildings, causing a court.
The sun was beginning to crawl behind long shadow against the basketball
"Well, Har, I'm going to think about this voodoo thing. I'm not sure about this."
"Anyway, I've gotta split. Susan's waiting on me
The sun was gone now. The park, dark. "Voodoo," mused Rico. " back to the apartment.
dimly lit, suddenly seemed very I don't know. Slowly, he headed
Rico reached his apartment in time to catch his favorite show, "Dallas." Sinking into his couch, he cracked another beer and thought about the botanica. Damn, he thought. I'm really desperate. I think tomorrow i'll go over there.
The morning sun crept through Rico's window. Beams of light angled off his bed, waking him. Looking to his right, Rico noticed the time. 9:30. He had already overslept by two hours. After calling his job and rushing through breakfast, Rico was
ready to check out the botanica.
The train had just eased out of the station when Rico stepped on the platform. He jerked the newspaper out of his jacket and nervously began to scan the headlines. The Number 2 train finally pulled into the station.
Getting off on Simpson Street, Rico was five blocks from his destination. Stopping at the nearest bodega, Rico bought an ice cold Miller. He didn't want to enter the botanica with a beer, so he gulped it down, then wiped his mouth with his right wrist.
28
Standing outside the botanica, Rico burped. He tried to see
inside but couldn't. The window was too dirty and too cluttered with fading merchandise.
Upon entering, Rico heard the jingle of a bell. Like magic, a little old lady appeared. She was very short and wore a long black shawl. Her face was totally wrinkled, but her eyes had a youthful look about them. She reached out with her wrinkled hand and grabbed Rico's wrist. Rico almost jumped away.
"I have been waiting for you. Your friend called me, and I am happy that you have come. Please follow me," She whispered.
Rico was speechless.
They spent about an hour talking. Rico revealed his problem, and she revealed her price. She made it clear that Rico would have to be patient and that there was no guarantee. With that, she rose and closed her eyes. She then said a soft incantation while
waving her hands in the air. Opening her eyes, she asked Rico to follow her.
They parted, expecting to see each other within a week's time. Rico would bring her a photo of Beverly, some clothing, and if he could, some hair. Rico was sure he would find everything since he hadn't taken time to clean the house since Beverly left. He felt a little nervous about the whole thing, but he was too far gone to quit now.
Two weeks went by, and Rico was not happy. He had thought things were going to work out a lot sooner. Thinking that Beverly would be popping up any time, Rico had taken to cleaning house, paying
bills, and pulling himself together. "Crackl" went the beer can. The phone rang.
"Hello."
"Bev, what a nice surprisel You sound terrific."
"What's that? I miss you, too."
"Say, why don't we have one of our dinners sometime? When are you free?"
"Perfect, we'll eat here. 6:30"
"I know, Bev, just friends for now."
"O.K. I'll be seeing you. Chow."
Rico hung up the phone in exaltation. "She's back into my lifel" he excla imed. He was so excited he could scarcely dial Harry s number.
29
"Yo, Bro. She's backl I don't know how to thank you. I've got a thousand things to do. We'll get together some time soon, okay?"
"Thanks, Bro. Take care."
Back at the Botanica, the scent of burning leaves emanated from the back room. The little old lady was standing over a boiling pot, chanting and working over Beverly's picture. Reaching for a jar of calipso, she inadvertently grabbed the wrong jar. Mixing and chanting, she did not realize her mistake until she noticed the mixture start to bubble up. "Oh, my Godl" she cried. "What have I done?"
What the hell has come over me, thought Beverly. I can't seem to think straight. She pulled out Rico's photo, which she had taken to carrying, and stared at it for a long time. "Damnl I've got to see my manl" she exclaimed and hurried out into the street.
Bev didn't want to be late for dinner with Rico so she decided to catch a cab. As she crossed the street on the green light, she thought happily that she would soon be with Rico.
The sun danced on the windshield as the car shot through the red light. Beverly was much too slow. "Crackl" went the thud as the car threw her against the pavement and killed her instantly.
Rico set the table. The whole place looked fresh and clean. The clock on the wall showed that it was 6:15. Rico took another look in the mirror, combed his hair back, and gave himself a side glance. The world is a beautiful place, thought Rico. My lady will be here soon. He reached into the frig. "Crackl" went the beer can.
HAIKU
Love you tenderly From the visions of your soul Loving, sweet and whole
Harmony, Freedom The essence of my fighting Tomorrow there's hope
Edwin Grigg
30
THIEF
You entered my home, lovingly accepted. You came and left, never rejected.
The quarrels were few; you were respected.
Until that night . . .
I gave you my heart with pride and joy?
But once in your hand, it became a toy.
You abused it,
but you couldn't break it;
So you left my home, my life.
Where did you put it? I can't find it.
Oh, noli
Stop . . .
Thieflll
Raymond Gonzalez
31
PINK PANTHER EXCLUSIVE
Terry Losicco
After a year of exhaustive traveling, I finally got an interview with the Pink Panther. The day after the Academy Awards, the Pink Panther sat in his Hollywood home, smoking a cigar and sipping a cool glass of Remy Martin. He had agreed to do an interview for Playboy partly because of his ego.
Playboy:	You seem to be able to do it all in your movies. How
do you do it?
Pink Panther:	I can operate on many levels simultaneously.
Therefore, I'm many things at once most of the time.
Playboy:	Your character is difficult to define. Do you know
yourself?
Pink Panther:	Damn right, I know myself. I am the most complex
character in the Zodiac and can be as enigmatic as a Chinese puzzle.
Playboy:	What does it take for a female to come to an
understanding with you?
Pink Panther:	It takes a female mind as convoluted as my own to
understand me, and that's because there is only so much understanding that can come from communication. To know me profoundly, you must intuit my total behavior. Because there aren't many minds molded in the same fashion as mine, I remain largely misunderstood. And I like that.
Playboy: You seem as if you talk in code.
Pink Panther:	I seldom communicate directly and usually resort
to talking in code; that is correct. Often, when making a declarative statement, I mean another. Therefore, whoever takes me on face value may never know what I'm really saying.
Playboy:	Do you do this purposely?
Pink Panther:	It's not that I try purposely to confuse issues.
It's just that I have a particular knack for making life more complicated.
Playboy:	What are the three prerequisites in your life most
important to you?
Pink Panther:	Security, control, and power 1
Playboy:	I get the impression you get uncomfortable when you're
not in a position to call the shots.
33
Pink Panther:	I refuse to be put out of control of any
situation, and I will plot, scheme, and manipulate to avoid it.
Playboy:	How do you handle women? It's common knowledge that
you're a most successful player of the game who usually gets what he wants.
Pink Panther:	Sexually, I am a predator who slowly strolls
around my victim before finally circling in for the kill. However, should I sense rejection once I make my move, I can quickly turn hostile and surly. Usually, my approach is cool, cleverly offhand, carefully calculated and quietly charming. If I am truly attracted to the woman, I can sit back and outwait all opposition.
Playboy:	What	are some of your bad characteristics?
Pink Panther:	I can be possessive, jealous, sadistic, and
downright dishonest. I sometimes suffer from mood swings and can have a gloomy, constricted, and ill view of life.
Playboy:	How	do you handle yourself when you suffer from these
mood swings? Do you yell and scream at people when you're upset, or do you stay in control of your emotions?
Pink Panther:	Generally, I vent my anger through a sarcasm that
goes straight to the nerves. I am sarcastic, ambitious, powerful, and profoundly intelligent. My greatest pleasure in life is plotting, scheming, and manipulating to get all the "Pink" I possibly can.
Playboy:	One last question. Are you conceited?
Pink Panther:	No, I'm not conceited. I'm convincedl
EXPECTATIONS
What you put in a situation is what you get out
I know exactly what I'm talking about
When we were together I never sat you down
And told you what to do when things got turned around.
I expected you to know.
John Williams
34
MISLED
Ronald Fenty
6:42 a.m. The sun was shining brightly through the parted curtains, making me squint my eyes. As I turned over in a drowsy, half-consciousness, I remembered my thoughts as I'd drifted off to sleep the night before and made a mental note to go over our plan a few more times to be certain nothing could go wrong. I didn t want to break D—Rock's heart by speaking of the apprehensions I had since he was the one who planned this job, but my uneasiness made it inevitable that we speak.
Marita lay peacefully beside me, not due to awaken for another three hours. Slipping soundlessly out of bed, I proceeded to prepare for my day at the office.
Marita was stirring on the bed as I made my way out of the bedroom to the front door and into the bright, sunny, Saturday morning that awaited me. I got into my car, a 1979 Trans-Am. As I started up, my thoughts drifted to the job we had planned. I quickly dismissed the thought and made my way through traffic toward the Brooklyn Bridge.
I turned off the bridge onto Chambers Street. The traffic seemed to diminish slightly. Hanging a left onto Broadway, I drove down to Water Street. I entered the underground garage three blocks from the office, parked, and walked slowly to Broad Street and Tony's Diner, where I bought a coffee and bagel and headed for the office.
I rode the crowded elevator in silence, preferring instead to let my mind battle with the problem at hand. Departing the elevator on 3, I made my way to my office and the work I knew awaited me.
I worked until 12:30 and was not satisfied with the progress of my accounts. When it seemed like I was completely into my work, my thoughts would wander astray, coming to rest on the ghost that was haunting me about our plan. Finally, I decided to stop for the day. I bumped into several people on my way to the elevator and apologized, bringing myself back to the reality. I quickly resolved that I must speak to D-Rock about these feelings and see what he would say. Maybe he was having similar thoughts?
Yes, as soon as I saw him I would speak to him. I headed back to the garage where I got into my car, paid the attendant, and made my way back to the Brooklyn Bridge and civilization.
It was almost 3:45 p.m. when I finally arrived home after stopping to run several errands. I figured Marita would be at w°rk, so I called her to see how she was doing since I had neglected to do so from the office.
35
Hanging up the phone, I crossed the room to the air conditioner and turned it up full blast. Getting an ice cold Millers from the refrigerator, I finally settled down on the couch to let the day's tension escape my tired body. I put a Joe Sample record on the turntable and listened to the Pianist/organist gracefully make love to the keyboard. Soothed by the sweet sounds of jazz that emitted from the speakers, I soon drifted into a world of
darkness.
I was awakened at 8:00 when D-Rock knocked on the door. He was all smiles and seemed happy about something. He came in and took a seat in the lime-green velvet chair. I offered him a cold beer.
As we sipped our brews, I studied the man more closely.
He was 25, six months older than me. The oldest of five boys, D-Rock was the biggest. He had taken to sports early in his life as a temporary release from poverty and the problems of the slums, but had never been successful enough to fully escape. Still exercising regularly, he maintained his massive, muscular physique of 6'7",	255 lbs. Dressed in Calvin Klein jeans, Chams
shirt, and Florsheim loafers, he appeared to be an athlete out
for a stroll.
His neatly trimmed sideburns and beard showed he cared much for his appearance. The only visible mark on him was a scar on the left side of his neck, the result of a gang war several years ago. Upon first glance, one would never know he grew up in poverty. His smile could charm the most hard to please person.
He flashed that smile on me as he spoke, "What's happenin', R.T.?" Now was my opportunity .
"D-Rock," I stated, "we go a long way back, man, and you know I ain't never ran from anythingl But I got something bothering me."
"What is it, man? You know you can talk to me." D-Rock looked at me with concern.
"Well, man, I don't want to say this in front of Jimmy-Lee or Bobby, or even Marita, man; and you know that there ain't much me and her do not talk about; but I'm having funny feelings about this job we're going to do tomorrow night."
D-Rock's look of concern turned into a cold stare.
"What kind of feelings, man?"
"Well, you know, like something is going to go wrong. I have been over the plan forwards and backwards, and something is itching me, but I can't seem to figure it out."
"Listen, R.T., don't let it trouble you, man. We will go and take care of business and get rich. Maybe, it's the thought of not knowing what to do with all the money you will have that's
bugging you?"
36
"Maybe, man, maybe."
D-Rock was not about to give in to apprehensions, and I could read the look in his eye that said he would kill me before he let me fuck up his chance to get rich.
Neither of us offered any more conversation, and as the silence grew, I went to the turntable and selected a Grover Washington Jr. album and turned the volume up, letting the sounds of his funky alto saxophone set the mood for us. After a few more beers and a couple sticks of weed, we were feeling pretty good.
Marita came in about 11:00 p.m., found D-Rock asleep in the chair and me asleep on the couch. She woke us. D-Rock rose and went to the bathroom to freshen up. Emerging five minutes later, he looked as refreshed as he did when he arrived. When D-Rock had
departed and the door was locked, Marita and I went over our plan as we prepared for bed.
"What time will you come in?" she asked.
"About 9:45. Are you sure the maintenance men are not regulars?"
"Monday through Friday, yes, but Saturday and Sunday the agency sends men over who have some knowledge of the building."
"Are you certain this key is to the service entry? I don't want any slip ups."
"Of course, baby, do you think I would give you a phony? I love
you too much to see something happen to you as a result of a wrong key."
"O.K., just checking, baby. Now dig this, when I pull my gun, dont panicl Act natural, but surprised, so no one will draw any suspicion. When we leave, we will go straight to the van and wait. I figure 10-12 minutes should be a long enough wait
before you leave. You'll know how to play the situation. How much will be there?"
"About 4-5 million. That is the best they have on a weekend. They usually open Monday morning with 10-15 million the armored car delivers at 6:00 from the main office."
"Is there anything you are not sure of?" I asked.
"No. "
"Then, you know what to do to the letter, right?"
"Yes. Why all the questions?"
"I'm hoping to get paid righteously, baby, but I have had some funny feelings about this. I spoke to D-Rock tonight, but you
37
know his confidence in succeeding is so great, God couldn't destroy it."
"Why haven't you told me about these feelings before?" She asked. "How long have you had them?"
"Only a few days now, but baby you know I'm going through this, do or diel"
Marita looked at me and laughed, but I knew she understood. She understood a lot about me; that's probably why we'd been together so long.
"Don't worry, hon, everything will be all right."
I kissed her softly and lay my head on the pillow. I was soon fast asleep.
I woke to the smell of sausages frying. The digital clock read 10:13. I was surprised that I had slept so long. As I showered,
I realized that within twelve hours I would be on my way to more money than I had ever had. I settled down to a plate of grits, eggs, toast and coffee. As I finished my meal, I shuddered with the thought that maybe I would end up in a jail cell before the night was over.
Our chores and housework took us into early afternoon. At about 1:20 p.m., I gave Marita a good-bye kiss as she climbed into the van and left for work.
At 5:30, I was aroused from a peaceful nap by a sharp rapping at the door. D-Rock, Bobby, and Jimmy-Lee came into the apartment, sporting jogging suits and big smiles. Sweat poured off of them as if they had been in a shower. I led them into the dining room and each took a seat in the high backed chairs. As I produced a case of cold beer, everyone's eyes lit up with the thought of something cool to control the heat which burned within.
After consuming half a case, we decided it was time to get down to business. D-Rock started by insisting on a weapons check. I went into the bedroom and brought back the Uzi submachine guns, 9 mm. Barettas and the .45. Each was inspected thoroughly along with every clip, cartridge, magazine, and shell of ammunition. If these three men were drunk, you would never have known by the way they expertly checked, cleaned, and rechecked the arms.
Each man was to carry 2 grenades and 2 extra clips of ammunition in case of emergency. His Baretta was to be in an ankle holster, and D-Rock would tote the .45 in a shoulder holster. Marita would not carry any weapons since she was to play an unsuspecting victim. The coveralls which Jimmy-Lee and I were to wear were brought out, along with the masks. We went over the details meticulously, the serious look on everyone's face making it known we were playing for keeps.
38
We left the apartment at 9:07 p.m. and drove to the cars that we would be using for the evening. Making our way over the Brooklyn Bridge and up the F.D.R. drive, we exited on the 42nd Street ramp. Proceeding west towards Fifth Avenue, we turned right and headed up 45th Street.
The street was nearly deserted. A few pedestrians strolled aimlessly by, paying no attention to the two cars that were parking behind one another. To the average eye, it would appear as if four men were getting ready to start their eight hour shift. Checking our weapons, we synchronized our watches. 9:33. That left us 17 minutes to locate the two maintenance men, immobilize them, and make our entrance on Diamond Inc.'s vault floor. We wasted no time, for time was precious.
As Jimmy-Lee and I were entering the service entry, D-Rock and Bobby were heading back to the car to make their final preparations. We located the maintenance men on the fourth floor, working their way down. We quickly subdued, bound, gagged, and left them on the deserted floor. They never knew what hit them.
It was now 9:40 p.m. We gathered their tools and proceeded down to the second floor. The Uzi's were carefully concealed inside the trash bin with the brooms and dustmops. At 9:47 p.m., we entered the second floor vault room, which was approximately 40 feet long and 35 feet wide with a cage extending 25-30 feet from the vault and covering the entire width. The right half of the cage contained three desks, cluttered with papers, adding machines, and various personal effects. On the left side was a water cooler, carefully placed between the men's and ladie's bathrooms.
The two employees sitting behind the desks, and Marita, who was getting water from the water cooler, glanced in our direction as we entered the room. One employee rose and crossed the room to the men's room. The big steel door of the vault was open about two and a half feet, and rows af drawers were visible. Each drawer was built into the wall, making the length unknown, but their fronts appeared to be about six inches in diameter.
The door immediately west of the cage door was the janitor's closet. We entered, pushing our trash bins and checking our watches. 9:50 p.m., D-Rock was late, but we were determined not to let his hesitation cost us. I nodded to Jimmy-Lee, donned my mask and left the closet. At that moment, Marita was making her way towards the cage door. I motioned for Jimmy-Lee to take care of the guard, who sat at the lone piece of furniture occupying the rest of the room.
The cage door opened. I pulled my Uzi out quickly, making Marita give a cry of surprise. Pushing her back into the cage, I motioned for the other employee to come forward and lie on the floor next to Marita. Jimmy-Lee moved the guard into the cage and made him lie face down alongside the other two. The man who
39
went into the bathroom was totally ignorant of what was going on; we had not made a sound. Jimmy-Lee produced two canvas bags and entered the vault, quickly emptying the contents of the drawers into the bags. Within eight minutes, he was finished.
D-Rock entered at 9:57 p.m., just as Jimmy-Lee was finishing up in the vault. He made no attempt to explain his lateness, and I did not ask him. He pulled his weapon, covering the employees, and motioned for me and Jimmy-Lee to get going.
Half way down the stairs, I remembered the man in the bathroom, but soon resolved that he would not be a problem. How those words would haunt me later.
We exited through the service entry, crossing the street to the van, where we noticed Bobby waiting patiently behind the wheel of the big L.T.D. Climbing into the van, we put the bags, coveralls, weapons and masks safely away in a carefully concealed compartment. We waited 18 minutes before Marita came out.
It was 10:19 p.m. D-Rock had not shown up yet. I wondered where he was, but was not too much concerned; the hard part was over. When Marita entered the van, she was sobbing hysterically. Several moments later, she controlled herself, started the van and drove west on 45th Street until she reached Seventh Avenue, where she turned right and proceeded north. She was silent during the trip, and it was not until she cut the engine on 72nd
Street that she told us what had happened.
"What do you mean he was shot? I made sure I took the guard's gun. In fact it's still in the bag." Jimmy-Lee fumed, half shouting at her as he spoke, " I know it's in the bag because I had second thoughts about throwing it away."
"My boss, Steve, was in the bathroom," Marita spoke in an even tone, "and when he came out, he saw us lying on the floor. He took his gun out of his sock. I didn't even know he carried one. D-Rock was in the vault making sure we got everything, just as he was supposed to, when Richard looked at Steve and nodded towards the vault. Steve hid on the side of the door and when D-Rock came out holding his machine gun, Steve shot him twice before he
could react."
I felt a pang of guilt strike me because I had failed to tell D-Rock about the man in the bathroom, but I remained silent.
"Is he dead?" I asked, finally.
"I don't think so; he stumbled out of the door and down the stairs. When I came out, he was no where to be found."
No more words were spoken as we got out of the van and made our way to the fifth floor apartment, which served as our hide out. We knew that Bobby would know what to do in the event that D-Rock
40
did not show; and sure enough, 25 minutes after our arrival, Bobby knocked on the door.
The tall, slender black man who accompanied Bobby was dressed in a business suit and tie. His briefcase was large and thick, and
I noticed, as they made their way into the apartment, that he did not have a smile on his face.
The apartment, rented under a fictitious name, was sparsely decorated. Four chairs and an old wood coffee table were all the furniture the front room contained. There were no drapes on the windows. The tall man's heels clicked on the wood floor, sending echoes throughout the room. We did not speak of D-Rock
in the presence of this stranger, although it was he who had arranged for this meet between us.
Seating the gentleman in the chair in front of the coffee table, we spread the merchandise before him. Donning his eye piece, he inspected the stones for several moments, quite satisfied with our product, and told us that he would give us $.60 on the dollar. We talked about it and calculated. The estimated wealth
of the stones, according to Marita, was 4-5 million, which would net us 2.7 million, or about $700,000 each.
We quickly remembered D-Rock and decided that his family must receive his share if he was not around to collect it; therefore we settled for no less than $.70 on the dollar, which would net us 3.1 million. Agreeing to our terms, the fence produced a pocket calculator, added, and opened his briefcase to produce
$3,150,000.00 in cash. He replaced the diamonds where the money had been and was escorted to his car by Bobby.
When Bobby returned to the apartment, we told him what had happened to D-Rock, sparing no details. I told Bobby that until we found out if he was alive, we would hold his share of the money. What Bobby said next startled us all.
"I heard the service door crash open, and D-Rock come stumbling out. He made no attempt to come to the L.T.D.; instead, he went directly to the Toyota and got in. I really thought that something was wrong when Marita got into the van: she took so long to leave. After she left, I started up the L.T.D. and slowly drove off. I thought he was going to follow me, but he didn't move. I drove around the block once, and the Toyota was
still there, so I made my way crosstown and picked Larry up and came straight over."
From Bobby's testimony, we all assumed D-Rock was dead. Bobby was the closest to his family, and it was suggested that he take D-Rock's share to them. I felt it was my duty to deliver his share, since it was my oversight that caused his death. I was quickly overruled, and Bobby left immediately.
Marita, Jimmy-Lee, and I piled into the van and drove back downtown, dropping Marita off at 45th Street to face the
41
detectives we were sure would be there by now. I took Jimmy-Lee to his house in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn, and continued on home, where I changed cars, stashed the money, and headed back to Manhattan to pick Marita up. I tracked her down an hour later at the 35th Precinct on 48th Street and took her home. We made no love that night; we just lay in each other's arms, giving the warmth and comfort each knew the other needed.
The funeral was on Wednesday, 9:00 a.m. sharp. Many friends of David Wilson turned out to pay their last respects to the brother known as D-Rock; in fact there were more friends than family. The pastor read the sacred words of burial, that would take D-Rock's soul from this living hell to eternal life. Grace, D-Rock's mother, cried the tears she had fought so hard to hold back. The sight of seeing David lowered into the ground broke her up. Donald Wilson, D-Rock's father, who was as dark, massive and gentle as D-Rock, also shed many tears for the eldest of his sons.
It was not until the brothers of D-Rock, who served as pall bearers, lowered the casket and shoveled dirt into the pit, that I came to the realization that all the premonitions I was having were not directed at me, but were a signal to be relayed and taken heed tol Maybe, if D-Rock had been on time, I would have remembered to tell him about the man in the bathroom. And maybe he would be alive today to spend some of his money. Maybe, but maybe not. Those thoughts flashed a tidal wave of guilt over me that I was sure would return and haunt me for the rest of my life.
42
MASQUERADE
(Realism)
All the fears have faded.
All the doubts have disappeared.
Alice and Dorothy have From their slumber, as
awakened • • •
Pandora slowly creeps toward the box.
SuddenlyI 1
The piano player plays And the singer sings no
no melody, song.
----- -
— J *»» V— It

The crystal ball has rolled too far. And lays shattered upon the floor.
Jack Moyd

MISTAKEN IDENTITY
Brent A. Belfance
The red Jaguar looked sharp taking those hairpin turns. The chrome sparkled like diamonds in the midmorning sun. As the car approached, I thought I might see what type of guy would be at the wheel. The Jag had dark, tinted windows; I couldn't even see his silhouette. My mind started taking over as to what the guy would look like.
I saw him as a medium built man in his early twenties. He had dark black hair that was cut into a D.A. His eyes were an ice blue that made the women wonder and the men respect him. He held the steering wheel in a viselike grip. The only thing on his mind was keeping the car between the yellow and white line. Speed, more speedl Flying down that hill with grace and perfection.
After the car flew past, I had a second thought. Maybe the owner of the car was a middle aged man. Not the type that was going bald, but the type with grey streaks flowing through his hair. His eyes were a soft brown that reflected his interior. He wanted that old feeling of being young and strong again.
I picked up my bike and headed back to town. The bike started to pick up speed as I continued down the hill. With the fresh air cutting over my skin, I couldn't help wondering how the car would feel cutting through the wind.
As I came into town, I spotted the jag. It was parked in the handicapped lane at the shopping center. In a swift turn, I pulled into the parking lot; I just had to see the man who drove that beautiful car. I jumped off my bike before it even came to a stop.
While sitting on the grass in the medium, I did my waiting. Time seemed to drag on. I smoked cigarette after cigarette. "Man, what's taking him so longl" Every man that looked the part of owning the Jag just acted as if it weren't there.
I was on my fifth cigarette when the tapping of a cane grabbed my attention. Across the way was an elderly lady, hunched over, carrying a bag of groceries. She was heading straight for the Jag. I kept my eyes glued on her. She couldn't be the owner of that car. She just couldn't.
She stopped at the door on the driver's side. I heard the tinkling of keys. Was my mind playing tricks on me? The door opened. She placed the bag of groceries on the passenger seat. She swung round and placed her old bones in the car. That's not how the owner is supposed to lookl My dreams vanished like mist on a window.
45
I ran from my waiting place to the car. I just had to have a few words with her. I leaned over and tapped the window. I saw her jump as if stuck by a needle. I motioned to her to roll down the window. As the window broke its seal, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The loud, screaming sound of Heavy Metal started to penetrate my ears.
She reached over to turn the volume down, and that's when I noticed the hash pipe in the ash tray. My eyes started to travel over the interior of the Jag. Hanging on a gold chain from the rearview mirror was a coke spoon. On the floor board was a pint of Jack Daniel's—half empty.
Now, this can't be true.
With a hesitant voice, I said, "Hi, I noticed this terrific car. Is it yours?"
"Well, if it wasn't, do you think I'd be sitting in it, sonny?"
"Take it easy. You don't have to bite off my head."
She leaned back to get more comfortable. She appeared to be relaxing now.
"I'm sorry, sonny. Yes, this is my baby."
"It sure is a beaut."
"Yeah, she moves right along."
"How fast have you had it up to?"
"I'm a little scared of high speeds, so the fastest I ve had her up to is 160 mph. The speedometer goes to 210, but I won t try
it."
With a smile on my face, I said, "Hey, you're all right."
She just smiled as I noticed her reaching into her suede purse. She was digging around in there like a wild animal. The smile had vanished from her face.
"Now, where the hell did I put that?" she said more to herself than to me..
"What are you looking for? Maybe you dropped it out here while getting your keys."
"There it is," she said with a sigh of relief.
I saw the sandwich bag all rolled up. I knew it had to be reefer from the way her hands were holding it.
"Hey, sonny, do you indulge?"
46
II
"Sure. Why? Are you turning me on?"
"Just get in, and let's go for a ride.
I didn't hesitate for a moment. My feet felt like they never touched the ground. I flew to the door? my hand grabbed the handle, but nothing happened. She's playing with me, I thought. Then, I heard the click, and the door opened with ease. I slid into the leather seat after moving the groceries.
"Where are we going?"
"Just hold on. By the way, what's your name?"
"Terry. What's yours?"
"You just call me Grandma."
"Cool. So, where are we going?"
She didn't answer me. With the turn of a key, I heard the motor come to life. She shifted into first with lightning speed. My head snapped back as she stomped on the gas. I could smell burning rubber all around me. The only thing that flashed in my mind was, "Is this old lady crazy?"
We left the parking lot sideways. The tires were still singing as we hit the streets.
"Hey Terry, why don't you roll one up?"
"Sure," is all I could say. I already thought I shit my pants.
We spent that afternoon getting high and driving around. I finally knew what type of man drove a Jag. He's 67 years old, 5'4" tall, 120 pounds; and he's a she.
\
47
WISDOM WOMAN
Wisdom woman,
You told me you love only me,
That love is a state of mind, not a physical fantasy.
You said that love is a pure energy force,
An understanding of the soul's infinity,
Radiating power of magnetic compatibility.
You said our astrological signs were in harmonious conjunction, Born under the same influence that control our drives;
Our orbits were only whole together And this would never let us part,
No matter where our life juices flow.
You told me this, Wisdom Woman,
Not in the heat of flaming passions,
But in the educational mood I have come to know as being you.
Though, as I sit here in physical separation from your form And realize separation is a figment of imagination For non-lovers,
Who cannot understand the equation of being one,
I have you to thank for this quality of wisdom,
As you are my anchor in mind.
But as I sit here without a letter from you,
Nor an explanation for the absence of your love,
With stale memories that drip with tears The only proof that I once knew you,
I remember each word as if spoken by you yesterday,
Burnt indelibly upon my heart,
A minute past ... an eternity gone by,
And I can't help wondering If the man you have now .	.	. is being educated by your wisdom, too.
Clifford Grosvenor
48
NOT A WORRY IN THE WORLD
Jack Moyd
The tiny white spot jumps across the screen. With each rise to a peak, it is accompanied by the sound of a shrill beep. It all resembles some sort of cruel video game in which the stakes are the highest—life itself.
In the middle of the sleepy, fluorescent-soaked room, she lies stretched across milky white sheets. She lies with no movement, no expression, no warmth. Her eyes gaze into the darkness and through the ceiling, concentrating so hard she takes no pause to blink.
A plastic canopy showcases the tiny body, allowing room only for the python-sized cable of wires to slither its way through. Once inside, the wires crawl independently apart, and some bite into her arms, some into her legs, and still others into her frail chest, while most seem to lurk somewhere underneath the sheets, waiting for the right moment to strike.
In such a state, she resembles a marionette peacefully awaiting the arrival of its puppeteer, who will give it life again, make it dance, hop, and skip for joy.
He is no puppeteer. Still, he is there every morning at a quarter to eight, knowing that visiting hours don't begin until eight-thirty. When visiting hours are over at four, the nurse must always ask him to leave.
He always sits in the chair in the corner and stares blankly at the baby doll, cradled in its cellophane wrapper. It is here that he torments himself over and over again.
He still does not know how she got up on the window sill, but he knows he moved as fast as he could to catch her as she began falling off the ledge.
He managed to grasp her hand as she fell through the window; and she dangled in his clutches, clinging to the side of the building, seven stories above the ground. He could feel her tiny hands slowly sliding out of his palm. He tried to pull her up as she pleaded, "Daddyl Daddyl Please don't let me gol" with the light of life shining furiously from her eyes.
There was a loud shriek, and he realized she had slipped from his grasp. "Noooool" he screamed as he watched her wee two-year-old body glide through the air toward the concrete sidewalk.
The doctor says she will probably not make it out of her coma. Still, he comes and waits, and waits, and waits, as he sits in
49
his trancelike state and wrestles with what might have been:
"Why, oh why, couldn't I have lifted her up? I should have tried harderl I should have held on tighterl How could I have been so careless as to leave the window open?
"What's happening with my life? Last year it was the car crash, and I lost her mother. Now, it's my little girl. God, if you can hear me, please don't take my little girl. I know that I've been a terrible father, but she's all that I have left in this world. Please, please, don't let her diel"
Almost as if in answer to his pleading, a sharp, buzzing alarm shatters the room's deathly silence. Two nurses rush into the room, their coattails flapping, and begin to work on the vacant body. A doctor comes in and directs professional jargon at the nurses. Frantically, they begin to administer their textbook techniques. The doctor takes over and strikes the still chest repeatedly until he realizes that his actions are futile.
There is a moment of respectful silence. Then, the doctor turns toward the corner and says softly, "We're sorry ..."
The night finds him seated in front of a large mirror encircled with bright light bulbs. His multi-colored face masks the pain and hurt etched upon his face. He has aged considerably in these few hours.
There are two hollow knocks on the wooden door, and their echoes bring him back into the moment. He takes a handkerchief off the table and dabs the tears from his eyes. He checks his face to make sure that everything is in place and that there are no telltale signs. He rises from his chair and heads through the door.
As he walks slowly down the rampway, his oversized shoes flop loudly on the rubber matting. In one push, he tumbles into the first ring and rolls to his feet. He skips and hops around the ring, tossing confetti into the air in a macabre celebration. As he runs around, tumbling and skipping, he looks like a warped, faded rainbow.
Finally, he is unable to hold back. The tears sting his eyes and slowly ooze down his cheeks, dripping heavily from his bright, red nose as he emits a sound like that of a wounded seal. Yet, he tumbles on and continues to celebrate. He must. It is his job.
Around the ring, the waves of laughter rise and fall from the audiences' lips. They laugh until their peanut and popcorn-filled bellies become tight and knotted, and tears of laughter fall from their eyes. They laugh as if they have not a worry in the world.
50
The girls were getting tired of Sly Wolf, and they devised a plan to rid themselves of him, but they never counted on their pimp's finding out about it.
The news hit the street: Your pimp is out to get youl
The girls decided to split up; each rented different apartments in different neighborhoods. Joann rented a room in a straw hut Suzie rented a room in a hen house, and Marlene's room was in a cement dog house.
The pimp found out where they were hiding, and he set out to set them straight. Sly Wolf paid Joann a visit early in the day and laughed at the structure of her whereabouts. He knocked and said, "Joann, open up; it's me, your daddy."
"No, get away from here," cried Joann.
Sly Wolf struck a match and said, "I'm warning you, you little bitch; come out nowl"
"Noi"
'All right, slut, consider yourself prime roast," said Sly Wolf, as he applied the match to the straw which caught fire easily.
Suzie s roommates were acting up, and she wondered what was wrong with them. She found out when Sly Wolf called out, "Suzie, sweetie, I came to pick you up for dinner. I won't hurt you baby."
"I'm not hungry, you bastard," shouted Suzie.
Your sister didn't want to talk to me either, now she's on the supermarket shelf."
"Oh noil"
Come out, or I'll make you suffer."
51
"Uh-uh.
II
"You asked for it," he said as he drove his Cadillac through the hen house, killing all of its inhabitants on the spot.
As he approached Marlene's room, Sly Wolf started to wonder: I already killed two. Should I kill this slut, too?
"Marlene," he called, "let me talk to you, baby."
"Move away from the door, and I'll come out," said Marlene.
Easier than I thought, thought Sly Wolf. "O.K.," he said, "here I am. Come out."
Marlene came out of the dog house brandishing a nickel-plated ,357 magnum. "Now, you schmuck," she said, "you'll pay." And with that, she pulled the trigger repeatedly, filling Sly Wolf with giant size bullet holes.
Fuckin' dummy, thought Marlene, he should've quit while he was ahead. Doesn't he know that swine is deadly?
THE CASE OF WILE E. COYOTE
Ronald T. Fenty
"The court sentences you, Wile E. Coyote, to 5 years hard labor for the death of Mr. Road Runner. Do you have anything to say?"
"Yo, Onna, I's been a chasin' thet darn Road Runner fo' 12 years now. Thet sumbitch dun made me break e'ry bone in ma body, ma head, ma butt. Yo' Onna, i's been broke up so much, i's gone wifout a woman fo' almot 9 years. Ma wife dun lef' me back in 73. Tuk ma only chile wif her. And since then I's been d'termin' to get thet damn Road Runner. Why, i's prob'ly had mo' broken bones then thet Evil Knevil fella, and he's a looney. Yo' Onna, i's gonna die if i's to do 5 years. En b'sise, the po-lice ain't never foun' Road Runner's body. They just says I done it cause i's always chasin' his ass aroun'.
"Mr. Coyote, the court will take that into consideration, but there is a lot of circumstantial evidence against you and a lot of questions you cannot answer, times you cannot account for. However, I will take this time to reevaluate the case. I shall return in 15 minutes with a new decision. Is that sufficient for you, Mr. Coyote?"
"Yessir, Yo' Onna. I's gonna be right here waitin'. I ain't goin' no place."
52
"Mr. Coyote, will you stand? This court upholds its recent decision to find you guilty, but due to the circumstances that are in your favor this time, this court sentences you to 3 years probation and time served. You are to report to the parole office of Foghorn, Leghorn & Associates on Monday morning. Do you understand?"
"Yessir, Yo' Onna, I understan'. I's to go see Foghorn, Leghorn & Associates on Monday mornin'. I's gonna do thet, Yo' Onna, i's gonna do thet. Than's fo' not sendin' me to the Pokey, Yo' Onna. I's not gonna make you sorry.
"And maybe I's gonna git a chance ta git Tweedy Bird, too."
JACK AND THE BEANSTALK
Rossi K. Taylor, Sr.
Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jack. Jack dressed in all the latest style clothes, got a trim on his hair every day, and with his constant neatness, won the hearts of all the young girls and quite a few ladies, too.
One day, Jack was feeling bored because nothing seemed to hold any excitement for him any more, so he jumped on his Moped and headed for the country, hoping to find a nice, friendly country girl that could take his breath away.
Jack didn't find any girl, but there was a farmer that traded Jack some magical beans for his Moped. After the farmer split on his new found toy, Jack said a few words over the beans, but nothing happened so he threw them away, sat down by a tree, and went to sleep.
Upon awaking, Jack was startled to see a beanstalk rising high into the sky in the place where he had thrown the magical beans. Excitement is what he craved, and excitement is what he got after getting to the top of the beanstalk.
When he reached the top, he was greeted by the biggest woman he had ever seen or could have ever imagined. 98-52-98 were her measurements, and she was a beauty to behold. Jack was elated, shocked, and feeling strange passions all at the same time. They rapped, fed, and soon went to bed.
ack always has a smile on his face now and a kind word for everyone. He doesn't flirt with the girls and ladies anymore, nd they think he's turned into a homo. But you, me, and Jack now the real deal about why he's so gay.
53
I AM
I am a man
A heart without a soul Light that drifts through darkness A bird that flows through the sky In search of life.
I am a man
A love with no passion A song without words Music without harmony Age without maturity
I am a man
A traveler with no destiny Power without restraint A seed that doesn't germinate
But still .	.	.
A manl
Larry "Foots" Thompson
54
FRIENDSHIP
Keith Waters
Skeet, Keith, Cee-god and Lil John were sitting in the park across the street from Park West High School, smoking weed and drinking beer. Each of them was carrying a .357 bulldog magnum with hollow point bullets in the chamber in a shoulder holster. The school bell rang and students began pouring out the doors and into the park.
"Yo, Skeet, what'll we do tonight?" asked John.
Skeet didn't answer. "Excuse me, fellows, I see something I like." He was busy looking at a light-skinned girl heading for the handball court. As if aware that she was being stared at, she looked up and smiled at Skeet.
She turned and went to a group of girls standing on the handball court talking. She had her back turned to three boys walking past her, and one of them smacked her on the ass. She whirled around and yelled, "You stupid bastard. Watch your hands."
Skeet and the rest of the gang had seen what happened and were already running over to the handball court.
"Hey, brother, you got a serious hand problem, don't you?" asked Skeet.
The boy and his two friends turned around to face Skeet, not noticing that Cee, Keith, and John had snuck up behind them.
"What's it to you?" asked the boy that had hit the girl on the behind.
"That's my girl you slapped on the ass. I think you owe me and her an apology," replied Skeet, unzipping his jacket so that the gun showed.
Everyone in the park stopped what they were doing to watch the confrontation. Knowing Skeet's reputation, several people moved out of the immediate area.
"Hey, man. I don't want any problems. I apologize for hitting your girl on the ass," said the boy, keeping his eye on Skeet's gun.
"That's my apology. Now apologize to my girl." the girl had moved next to Skeet when he had run over and was now facing the boy.
"I apologize to you also," the boy said to her.
Skeet grabbed the girl's hand. "Come on, pretty lady. Get your books, and let's go." They turned their backs to the boys and started toward the handball court to get her books.
The boy waited until Skeet and the girl had walked a few steps, and then he reached for his gun, but the feel of cold steel and the cocking of the gun behind his head stopped him.
"I'll blow your head off if you don't move your hand away from that gun slowly," stated Cee-god.
The boy let his hand drop back to his side. Cee pulled the gun from under the boy's jacket and stuck it in his pocket while John and Keith took the other boys' guns from them.
"I think you and your friends better leave the park before you get yourselves hurt. This is Posse territory, and we don't like intruders," said Cee, keeping his gun in the boy's face.
The three boys slowly backed up and walked backwards until they reached the open gates leading out of the park. They kept their eyes on the Posse members until they were a safe distance away.
Now that the trouble was over, everyone in the park went back to what they were doing. Skeet turned his attention to the girl beside him.
"Thank you," the girl said, smiling at Skeet.
"Any time." said Skeet. What's your name?"
"Cynthia Robinson," she replied, putting her jacket on. What's yours?"
"Everyone calls me Skeet."
"Well, it was nice talking to you, Skeet; but I've got to be going. "
"Can I walk you home?"
"Thank you, but that's okay. I only live down the block." She started walking toward her house.
"Hey, Cynthia, will you be here tomorrow?" he shouted after her.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay. Bye, Skeet."
"Bye, pretty lady."
Cynthia smiled and waved. He seems nice, she thought.
56
As Skeet watched Cynthia walk down the block and go into her house, he thought, Damnl That's one sweet female.
Skeet, John, Cee, and Keith sat in the park smoking weed until 7:30. "I'm cutting out, home boys. See you tomorrow," Skeet said standing up.
"Chill, Skeet," they replied. Skeet headed home, unaware that Cynthia had come back into the park. She looked at Skeet and the others, then picked up the book she had accidentally left there earlier and hurried down the street to her home.
The next afternoon, Skeet stayed in the house watching television until 2:30. Then he headed to the park so he could meet Cynthia after school. He waited until 4:30, but she never showed up. When he asked some girls if they had seen her, they told him she had gone straight home after school. All that week Skeet waited in the handball court for Cynthia, but she never came.
On Friday, Skeet decided to take action. She's been avoiding me all week, and I'm going to find out the reason tomorrow, he promised himself.
He got up at 9:00 on Saturday and left for Cynthia's house. Just as he got to her block, she was coming out of her house. "Cynthial" he yelled, running up to her.
"What are you doing around here so early?" Cynthia asked.
"I wanted to find out why you are avoiding me."
"Skeet, things just wouldn't work out between us."
"Why do you say that?"
"After I went home the other day, I noticed one of my school books was missing, so I went back to the park to look for it."
"So, what's that got to do with us?"
"I didn't know you were a member of the Brooklyn Posse Gang. If you continue hanging with them and carrying that gun, you'll wind UP in jail."
"Yeah? do." there.
Skeet turned tanjrryit-t>°iUt who 1 hang out with and what I
He went ?o Keith'/i 8d aWay>	Cynthia standing
s house and told him what had happened.
The girl actually had the nerve to tell me that I would go to 3^il hanging with youl"
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"Fuck her, Skeet. She don't know what she's talking about," sympathized Keith. "Oh yeah, Cee-god called earlier and said that we're going to hit Busch's Jewelry Store tonight at 8:30 so why don't you stay here until we have to leave?"
"Yeah, I might as well. I'm going to see what's in your refrig, all right?"
"Sure, home boy, help yourself."
Skeet opened the refrigerator and took out a piece of fried chicken and a beer. He carried the food into Keith's room. Keith was asleep on the bed, so he finished off the beer and sat in the recliner and dozed off.
He was awakened by the vigorous shaking of his arm. "Come on, Skeet. It's time to meet Lil John and them at Busch's."
Skeet stood up, stretching and yawning. "Keith, give me some more shells." Pulling out his gun, he made sure that the safety was on. "Okay, I'm ready."
The two boys reached the street and started walking towards 38th Street to meet the rest of the Posse, who were waiting across the street from the jewelry store.
"You ready?" Keith asked.
"Let's do it," Lil John replied.
The Posse crossed the street and entered the store with Cee and John going to the back of the store. Skeet and Keith pulled their guns out.
"Don't anybody move. This is a holdup. If you cooperate, no one will get hurt. Everyone get on the floor, face down. Nowl" yelled Skeet.
Cee and John jumped over the counters and begin filling up the two bags that had been under their jackets while Skeet and Keith took the customers' money and jewelry. After the bags were filled, Cee and John came back up to the front.
"Go," Skeet said. Cee and John left the store and walked off in different directions. "Okay, you leave now," Skeet told Keith. Keith left and walked in a different direction from the other two.
"Now, just stay face down on the floor for ten minutes because if I see one head move, i'll blow it off," warned Skeet. The bell over the store's door tingled, and Skeet whirled.
"Drop the gun, son. Don't make me shoot you," said a cop, whose revolver was pointed at Skeet's chest.
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Skeet kept his gun leveled at the cop's stomach and thought, If I shoot him, he just might pull the trigger involuntarily from reflex.
"I won't ask you again. Drop the gun," the cop said.
Skeet dropped the gun and turned around, his hands in the air. The cop picked up Skeet's gun and said, "You people can get up now. "
Soon the store was filled with cops asking the owner and customers questions. Two detectives read Skeet his rights. "What are the names of the friends who helped you?" they asked.
"I don't know. I just met them," replied Skeet.
"You're telling me that you met three guys, pulled a robbery with them, and don't know anything about them?"
"That's correct, officer."
The detectives put Skeet in the back of the police car and took off for the station with the siren blowing and the lights flashing.
Skeet went to trial. Three days after an indictment was handed down, Skeet was found guilty of armed robbery, possession of a deadly weapon, and possession of hollow pointed bullets. He was sentenced to 6 to 18 years on January 6, 1982, and was shipped upstate five days later. Skeet knew he would never hear from his parents because they didn't care about him. Cee-god and the Posse had sent him a letter on the Island, telling him that his take from the job was 50 grand and promising to hold on to his share for him.
Skeet felt his whole world had caved in on him. He knew it would be a long time before he would see the streets again. Knowing that no one would write or come to visit him, he felt very sad and alone.
One afternoon, Skeet was lying on his bed thinking about New York when suddenly his cell door opened. He stepped out and looked at the C.O. down the corridor. "What's this for?"
"You have a visit."
Who would be coming to see me? Skeet wondered as he got dressed. I don't care who it is. At least I have a visit. When he reached the visiting area, he asked the C.O., "Who came to see Kevin Williams?"
The C.O. looked on the sheet and replied, "Cynthia Robinson."
"Who—who did you say?" Skeets eyes opened wide.
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"Cynthia Robinson." Skeet walked out into the visiting room and saw Cynthia, sitting at a table in the corner. She waved and smiled at him. He walked over to the table and sat down.
"Hello, Cynthia. I didn't expect to see you."
"How are you doing, Skeet?"
"Uh, fine. And you?"
"I'm okay."
"Listen, Cynthia, I appreciate you coming to see me, but I don't understand. Why did you unless it's to say I told you so?"
"Skeet, I didn't come to say I told you so. I came because I wanted to see how you are doing."
"Well, I'm doing fine as you can see so now you can leave."
"Will you never change your stupid ways?"
"Listen, I told you once before. I do what I want."
"Yeah, I know. And look what it's gotten you."
"I knew you were going to say I told you so," Skeet said angrily, getting up from the table.
"Skeet, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. It's just that you've got to learn to respect other people. I came up here because I like you and want to help you in any way I can, but you've got to help yourself first."
"You're right, Cynthia. It's time for me to get my act together, and I will just as soon as I get out."
"Why wait until then? This prison has a college program, right?" "Yeah."
"Then why don't you get into it?"
"I've got to think about that."
"Visits are overl" yelled a C.O. Cynthia stood up.
"i'll be back next weekend, and then we can talk again. But in the meantime, think about the college program, okay?"
"Okay. See you next week." They kissed, and she was gone. As he watched her leave, he thought, I'm going to get in that college program and make it. I owe her that much for caring. Smiling, he turned and headed for the gate leading back to his cell.
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A DAY AT THE BALL PARK
Dean Smith
It was early May. The sun was shining brightly, and it was a perfect day for baseball. The Mets against the Cincinnati Reds. It would be a good game. My two brothers, a friend, and I were on our way.
As soon as we got to the game, we could hear the boos. Pete Rose, old Charlie Hustle himself, was on the field. People just love booing this guy. The guy is a fanatic. He stays up till three in the morning, trying to catch the games on the West Coast. He sits at the breakfast table computing his average.
I like Pete Rose. He's a slave to his trade. He has conviction. He runs hard on a walk (bases on balls). He'll try to take your head off on a ground-out to second. He's a nice guy.
I sat in the bleachers rooting Pete on. The guy next to me, obviously a diehard, fanatical Mets fan, wanted to kill me. I could tell. He turned around, looked me directly in the eyes and said nothing. Also, guys who sit in the bleachers are very aggressive and raucous. This guy was your average, beer drinking, hot dog eating, tobacco chewing bum. I decided to steal me a seat in the box seat area. That's the way we usually operated. We would buy a dollar fifty seat and sneak down to the reserved seats.
When Charlie Hustle came to bat, the crowd exploded. It was as if this guy was electricity itself. He always seemed to play extra hard against the Mets, but I know that's the only way he plays. Charlie Hustle hit a home run. It was a wise decision moving from that guy in the bleachers. The way Charlie Hustle ran around the base path, the bleacher bum would have surely strangled me.
On this day, Mr. Hustle was at his best. In five turns at bats, he hit two singles and two home runs. I was cheering very quietly now because I knew how these New York fans were. If you weren't for the home team, they treated you like an English Red Coat.
I marveled at the way Pete destroyed the Mets single-handedly. All the Paul Revere's in the stands were starting to disburse. It was just too much for them to see Mr. Hustle do exactly what they didn't want him to do--play to win. Even though this was Rose's forte, Paul Revere and the bleacher bums acted susrprised at his awesome display on the field.
The Mets were like a little puppy, wondering why its master treated it so badly. And my friend, Charlie Hustle, treated them as bad as he could.
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FLASHBACK
Rossi K. Taylor, Sr.
"Well, my man, it's hard to believe that this is really happening, but it's true. We're going home and all in one piece, too. Can you dig that shit?"
"Yeah, bro, we were lucky; but I got to tell ya, Rod, I was scared. I	was so fuckin' scared that at	times I	damn	near
prayed, and	you know I ain't no prayin' man."
"I know exactly where you're coming from, Gus. Hell, I wasn t jumping for joy myself. Remember the time we were in the bush outside of	Da Nang, and Bates started going to pieces?	If I
hadn't cut	his throat, we might not be	rappin'	right	now.
Brother, I know you didn't know it was me that did it, but war is hell, and I was scared just like you so I did it to save everyone's ass."
"So it was youl I can understand, Rod; but all of that Recon Training sure as hell didn't prepare us for having to do in a friend. Yo, man, let's get stoned and forget about the past. We got lucky, and soon we'll be home. How about that shit, man? How about that shit?"
"All rightl 35 days R and R, pocket full of money, and soon we'll be married to our honeys. Damn, I feel goodl"
"Yeah, Rod. Love is a bitch, right? I mean, we ain't seen our ladies for almost two years. Left home as two 18 year old kids, and now we're gonna get married to our ladies and raise some kids
of our own."
"It's funny you should say that, Gus, because when I was rappin with Darlene on the phone, she was talking about us having 10 kids; and I agreed 'cause I sure do want a big family with the girls looking like their mother and the dudes as handsome as me. But before all of this marrying takes place, what do you say about stopping off in Jacksonville and checkin' out some of them beautiful black girls?"
"Damn right 1 Let's gol"
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Gus, we're gonna have us one hell of a sweet time tonightl Look at all of them pretty young asses shakin' on the dance floorl"
"I seen them when we hit the door, brother; and there's two over at that corner table checkin' us out. Let s go over and see if we can get ourselves a party started.	I saw a little motel on
the way in here."
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"Man, Gus, this is an evening to rememberl Those ladies just wouldn t quit 1 What a three hours 1"
"Yeah, bro. Wipe that smile off your face, and let's go back to the club for a few drinks before headin' out. It's time you settled down and got used to bein' a married man. Hey, who's that coming our way?"
"Yo, man, what the fuck you talkin' about I disrespected you? Shit, I don't even know you. What? Yeah, well, the chick told me she didn't have no man, so damn right I took her to bed. So, why don't you chalk it up as an experience, and I'll do the same, all right?
"Listen, bro, you best step off while you can still step 'cause me and my main man Gus ain't lookin' for no trouble; and you don't want the kind we can give ya, if you can dig my meanin'."
"Damn, Rod, that felt good. Shit we sure put a beating on that country mother fucker. Look, he's a diehard son-of-a-bitch, too. I thought we beat his ass enough, but the bastard is coming back for more. Shit, let's put his lights out for good, ok?"
Oh, shit, Rodl Look outl The bastard's got a fuckin' shotgunl"
BOOM 111
It s been a long time now. Me and my wife have been married for 13 years. Our son is gonna be 12 next month, and I'm sitting here looking out the window, watching him play with all the neighborhood kids and thinking that some of those kids could have been Rod s. Yeah, I m looking out the window and remembering, always remembering, my friend.
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THE NEXT POEM
What happened to the Poem I wrote For Black people and love . . .
Dated yesterday?
Is it hanging on the wall in someone's Alone
No room for expression?
Is it active . . •
A crowd of words in another poem Written so memories don't die away?
Malcolm and Martin, Medgar and John— So much to cherish—
Thoughts of a single mind A single poem Alone.
Today is yesterday.
Together they combine . .	. they form:
Martin's heart and Malcolm's mind, Medgar's spirit and John's soul,
Living forever ... a forever poem.
Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow.
Black People and Love . . .
Struggle and Truth A Poem Alone.
Who will write the next sentence?
Who will sing the next song?
Who will be Black
And love . . . and write
The next Poem?
Clifford
home
Grosvenor
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THE PAYOFF
Larry "Foots" Thompson
Tim sat on the steps of the apartment building where he and his mother lived. "I've just got to find a way to get the thirty-two hundred dollar down payment for that carl" he mused aloud. "Moms refuses to loan me the money, and I don't dare steal it from her. "
He thought about the brown Thunderbird that he had seen down at Louie's Used Car Lot on Reid Avenue. The car was in good condition. It had a beige interior with am and fm radio, eight track stereo, tinted windows, mag wheels, and the best part of it was there were only 47,000 miles on it.
Tim wanted and needed the car because he hated watching all the guys from his block driving around with their girls to movies and shows while he rode the bus and train. There just had to be a way.
"I knowl" he exclaimed. "I'll talk to Johnny. He always has the best of everything and knows all the tricks to keeping money in his pockets. Maybe he can give me some ideas on how to get some."
As if in answer to his thoughts, Tim looked up and saw Johnny's cream-colored Cadillac come down the block. Tim jumped up and motioned to Johnny to pull over. Johnny parked the car, let down the window and yelled, "Hey, what's happening, Tim?"
"I need to ask you something, Johnny."
"If I can help you in any way, you know I will."
"I've got to get $3200 for a down payment on a car I want. But my moms won't loan it to me, and I can't think of a way to get it before someone else buys the car."
"i'll tell you what, Tim. Meet me at school tomorrow morning at 8:30, and you'll see how I get paid."
"Okay, Johnny, and thanks a lot." Tim turned away and went into the house, feeling good that Johnny was going to give him some help.
The next morning, Tim left for school at 8:00 so that he could meet Johnny. When he reached the school, he noticed a line of students against the gym wall. Johnny was sitting on the steps in front of them. Tim walked over to Johnny and watched in astonishment as kids walked up and dropped money, rings, watches, and bus passes in a box on Johnny's lap.
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"This is how I get paid, Tim. All you have to do is threaten a few people, and they'll pay you for protection." Johnny finished collecting the money, got into his Cadillac, and drove off without saying another word.
Tim went into the school but couldn't concentrate on his school work because now he knew how to get the $3200. Anxious to plan his moves, he cut out from school early.
The next morning Tim left for school at 8:00 and waited two blocks from the school because Danny always walked to school. Tim saw Danny coming down the block and ran up to him with a stick in his hand. Danny saw Tim with the stick and started to run, but Tim grabbed Danny by the collar of his coat.
"Run your money, punk," he ordered. Danny hurriedly reached into his pocket and gave Tim his money and got a slap on the head with the stick from Tim.
"i'll be here every morning waiting for you; and if you tell anyone about this, i'll beat the shit out of you, understand?"
"Yes," cried Danny, touching the lump on his head where Tim had hit him with the stick.
"Don't forget. Every morning, and tell no one." Tim turned and left Danny shaking from fear as he counted the money belonging to Danny. Twenty-five dollars. That's good for a half hour's work, he thought.
Tim liked the feeling that taking money from other people gave him. It was a sense of power, an assurance that he could be unstoppable. Within a few weeks, he had 20 people paying him protection money, but he needed more people. When he counted his money from the last two weeks of extortion, he had only accumulated $700 cash, three gold rings, and a gold chain. I can sell the rings and the chain for about $500, he thought, but I'm still short two grand. I've got to get more people. Maybe I can work over some of Johnny's dudes temporarily. He didn't take into account that someone might go back and tell Johnny.
When two of Johnny's boys told Johnny what had happened with Tim, Johnny shocked them with, "Since you two let Tim take my money from you, instead of paying me $25, now its $40 from each of you. "
I've got to show that little punk who's running things around here, Johnny thought. He dialed his friend, Big Bear. As the phone rang, he said, "1 should never have shown that bastard how to get paid."
"Hello, Bear? This is Johnny. I've got a little problem and could use your help."
"Just say when and where, homeboy, and Bear will be there."
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"Meet me at the corner of Bedford and Nostrand in half an hour, okay?"
"You've got it, my man. See you then."
Johnny smiled as he thought about the Bear s looks and reputation. Big Bear was tremendously huge. He was all of 6 feet 6 inches tall and weighed well over 240 pounds of solid muscle.
Johnny and Bear met at Bedford and Nostrand. "What's up, man?" Bear asked.
"Just a little eager beaver moving on my turf. But I want him to know that I'm not taking any shorts. Come on. I know where he hangs out."
Johnny and Bear rounded the corner near Tim's house. "There s Eager Beaver standing over there."
Johnny and Bear rolled on Tim outside the corner store. Bear quickly put Tim in a powerful headlock that had him spitting from the mouth.
"When I taught you the tricks, I didn't show you all of them." Johnny smiled. "Seems you are moving a little fast. This is how I protect my turf." Johnny took $75 that Tim had copped from a local schoolboy.
"I need that money," Tim squeaked.
Johnny put the money in his pocket and gave Tim the traditional punch in the face to let him know who was top dog at getting money. "Stay the fuck off my turf before you have one hell of a problem."
The first few weeks Tim stayed out of Johnny's way, but he became bolder and bolder every time he robbed until Johnny's threat meant nothing. As the weeks went by, he made plans on how to get back at Johnny and Bear. He bought a .45 caliber automatic which carried a nine bullet clip. Tim had heard that Johnny and Bear would be at the Blue Maze Disco on Friday Night.
At 8:00 Friday night, Tim sat in his room checking out his gun to make sure it would operate properly. He planned to leave for the Blue Maze Disco at 9:00 so it would be dark when he got there. He was wearing black pants, shirt, and shoes so it would be difficult to see him. He would also wear black hat and glasses.
Tim looked at his watch. "Time to go," he said, picking up the gun from the dresser, he stuck it in his waistband under his shirt.
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Tim got to the disco at 9:30 and saw Johnny's car parked a few feet away. He went into the Chinese Restaurant across the street and positioned himself near the window so he could see when Johnny and Bear came out of the disco.
At ten thirty, the door of the disco opened. Johnny and Bear came out and walked toward the car.
"Wasn't there some bad bitches in there tonight?" Johnny asked.
"Yeah, there sure was some bad mommies, exclaimed Bear, "but I almost shot that stupid motherfucker that came over and spilled my drink."
Suddenly, the silent air was broken with the sound of gunfire. Big Bear turned around; and the .45 caliber slug caught him in the chest, spinning him around. Tim fired again, catching Bear in the neck. Johnny started running back toward the disco just as Tim fired, catching him in the lower back. The impact from the bullet slammed Johnny through the glass of the disco.
The ambulance and police arrived on the scene within minutes, finding Bear dead and Johnny barely alive. As Johnny was being put in the ambulance, he opened his eyes.
"Do you know who shot you?" a cop asked.
Johnny's eyes scanned the crowd and came to rest on Tim. Weakly, he pointed. The police motioned to two cops to get Tim.
Tim began running as they approached him, telling him to halt. He pulled the .45 out of his waistband and turned to fire on the police, but they had their guns drawn and cut loose two shots that caught Tim in the mid chest, killing him instantly.
FINGER LAKES
Wine country—vintage land Planted in primeval soil Watered with glacial lakes Nourished by sun-drenched summer Aged through golden autumn Chilled on the rocks of winter Raised to toast eternity.
Sally Carr
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