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‘Don’t Make Me Chase You’
White Wednesday at Hoodrats R’ Us
It is the end of a long month and retail food has become a war zone. So many stories from fellow ghetto grocers have been coming in to me by phone that I can only offer a sampling. Just keep in mind, that if welfare payments are ever halted for more than a day or two, that any American city which does not receive free money will erupt in riots and looting. The monthly nature of the welfare distributions are such that the ghettos are on the verge of rioting after the 27th day of any month, and that every additional day that month lingers the more heated the situation becomes. Note that the Baltimore riots were timed for the end of the month, a gang strategy that police have still not picked up on and will likely never recognize for what it is, as their welfare comes weekly or bi-weekly depending on the jurisdiction. This month is particularly bad because July money came out early at the end of June because of the 4th of July. [The reasoning for this escapes me even though my boss explained it clearly enough.]
I just got a call from Roger, the manager of a ghetto food store, the only white man on the scene. Last night his book keepers, two black girls, were walking round the side of the building to a bus stop when they ran into a man standing outside of his makeshift tent in the bushes, peeing. They all three screamed and the girls ran back inside. TeeTee, the more aggressive girl, grabbed a produce knife and went back after the squatter, who surrendered, pleaded for mercy for the homeless, and assured her that she had frightened him as much as he had her.
Mall security will now be escorting these helpless females to the bus stop.
Just before Roger called me, a known shoplifter, who is usually good for hauling $200 of merchandise at a time, came through the front door with his pregnant wife. A female customer came to Roger and said, “I just saw that man beating that pregnant woman and telling her she had to come in here and steal or else he’d whoop her some more.”
Roger notified the uniformed police officer on duty, spoke to the man who was shoving merchandise in his pants, and then gave chase as the man fled out the door.
As Roger ran past the pregnant wife she threw herself on the floor and began crying, “Amblance—amblance!”
Roger tackled the shoplifter on the parking lot and dragging him back in as the woman pleaded that she was going to sue because he had trampled her, although a dozen people saw otherwise and the cop assured her that her lie would be exposed on the security video.
As Roger handed the man off to the cop the woman began to leave, afraid now that she would be arrested for the stolen goods she had on her. Roger said sternly to her, “Don’t make me chase you.”
The fetus-infected woman ran. Roger caught her easily without taking her to the pavement, and brought her back to await the ambulance and paddy wagon with her husband. They were both hauled off to Central Booking this morning.
Roger was beside himself with dismay over the acceptance of theft at his new store. “You just would not believe how brazenly people steal here, and how acceptable it is to most of the customers. It’s like working in some zoo for the mentally retarded and insane.”
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