I was sitting on my stoop today. Just admiring the clear blue summer sky, which is pretty rare given the usual fires and burning buildings. My dog starts barking, startling me out of my stupor. What’s the matter boy? His barks cuts thru the air and I can feel the intensity of his bark bouncing off of me. I turn to look in his direction. Instantly I yell at him to stop.
I see what the dog sensed. This strange, lanky guy with long greasy hair that covered his eyes was walking in my direction. He starts to cross the street at midblock and the cars approaching honk at him – he just responds with the finger. Nothing phases him, nothing matters! As he steps up onto my sidewalk, the air gets this strange chill. Even the people walking on the sidewalk feel the tension and step aside. I keep staring at him and he continues his approach towards me. I am frozen, like a deer – stopped dead in its track by the headlights approaching. I could not react and could not move. The only movement on my body are the salty sweat droplets running off my forehead.
As he comes closer to the front of my brownstone, he makes direct eye contact with me. I cannot turn my gaze away and we keep the eye contact as he approaches. Whaz the matta kid? – Whacha lookin’ at? I didn’t know what to say and just uttered the first words that spilled out of my open mouth. I asked him why is he wearing a trenchcoat in the middle of summer. He does not say a word and just stops in front of me. He turns to face me as I stand up. All the while we continue the chicken stare. Who is going to give in first – who is going to look away? At the instant, he gestures with his eyes down to his side and allows me to break formation. I take this chance and turn my gaze away, taking only a quick glance.
That is the first time I have ever seen a 12-gauge Model 88 shotgun.
The kids wanting to get into a gang talk about it all the time! But I’ve never physically seen a sawed-off shotgun, even less – one that is sawed-off at both the barrel and stock.
Perfect size for easy concealment. The black steel barrels glisten from the sun shining on it. The wood handle, chipped and worn, looks as if this gun has seen pleanty of action. Instantly he tucks the gun down to his side, closes his coat and gestures with the index finger up against his lips. Then he extends his thumb out and signals as slicing across his throat. He did not make a sound – did not need to – I heard clearly every word!
As he turns and walks away, I am clear that his future is set for him. We are no longer foes. His gesture and poise was of warning me not of threathening me. With his back towards me now, I cannot help but stare at the Savage Skull insignia on the back of his long coat.
Years from now, when I’m a teenager, I guess I will realize that I should have been scared shitless, but I hate to admit that I was in awe! He commands attention. That gun and insignia gives him power – he’s a tough guy (MOV – video link) and the world knows it!
But deep down inside, that gesture gave me the feeling that he was telling me to stay away – or his future will become mine. I respect that.
