The hefty green umbrella, a gift from my darling slave girl, has saved me thrice from the attention of righteous world-righters, including a lunging pitbull, which muscular form bent the aqua-resistant talisman of my many evil nights.
A White Devil can't be too careful with so many ebony paladins and the occasional righteous canine hunting his pale ass to extinguation.
As global warming continues in Baltimore, with our third unseasonably cool August and unusually wet year, we have drenching rain almost nightly, for hours on end. Hence I find myself carrying the umbrella more often than not. Last night, as I stood at the lonely bus stop, where I contemplate my evil deeds and the oppression of the meek, a door down from Tiny Dancer's family home, the rain poured straight down, keeping my work clothes and book dry in the backpack, my booted cloven hooves barely wet.
Sixty paces behind me and 20 paces to my right, on the north walk of Northern Parkway, came a masculine voice, "Yo, let me hold that umbrella, yo."
Then came a deeper, masculine voice, "Yo, that's my umbrella, yo!"
This was a direct threat, calling my deviltry into question and activating my negro sense. So I turned my head and spied the enemy, two tall, athletic, buck negroes, standing just over six foot and scaling just under 200 pounds, too much dark meat for this old hell spawn to handle unarmed in his days of deserved decline.
The medium voice was in the lead, the deeper voice three paces on his heels, as they walk along clutching drenched hoodies over their heads, hunched under the pouring rain.
I took the umbrella out of my right hand with my left and tilted it as I slid my right into the front jean pocket and unhitched the 3 inch folding lock-blade, wondering if I would be able to open it with my oft-broken hand. I put the gut to good use and slid the blade hand under the beer keg and opened the blade there, the hand working like a charm as I heard,
"Bring that umbrella over here, yo," from the cruiserweight.
I looked straight ahead, ignoring him, as I scanned oncoming traffic [all three cars] for a police siren rack, and found none. I didn't need a pig seeing this knife, thankfully blued, but with a small sliver of steely edge to catch a headlight.
Ominously they had stopped just across the street from me, 20 paces off, 2.5 seconds for this buck to reach me if he sprints.
He said, "Yo, don't make me come over there and whoop dat old ass, yo!" as he stepped off the curb.
I dropped the knife hand easily to my thigh, hiding the silhouette, thinking, Stab, rib down, rip front; stab, rip down rip front; stab...
And my soothing reverie was interrupted by the squeak of an advancing sneaker and the squeal of the advance skulker, "Yo, Sanna Clause be serious as shit, yo!"
I turned my head and saw the light heavyweight pointing at my knife hand and the cruiserweight backing up onto the curb like a reversing cartoon character, placing his hands out pleadingly in front of him as if pushing the White Devil aura away and assured the Evil One in a conciliatory tone, "Merry Chrismas, yo!"
Then, as they hustled off at double time, he waved over his shoulder and winked comically, barking "Yo know green is my favarate color!"
War Drums: Forty Miles from The Big House
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White in the Savage Night: A Politically Incorrect Life In Words: 2016
link › jameslafond.blogspot.com
Do you hold the knife ice-pick style while you're waiting for them to approach?
Dang! You must be wore out, shit like that. My hat is way off.
My guess would have been (while trying to put myself in JL's place, which I wasn't) was that these two were going to see if their target was a weak progressive, who would be sufficiently scared AND guilted by their approach that he would give them the umbrella without a fight, and that if he had not, they PROBABLY would not have rolled him for it, but would just have abused him and left.
However, insurance has to be taken out against the alternative, and it worked!
The "rip down" scenario makes me think that the knife is held ice-pick style for the initial guard .... ?
Why did you stop carrying the fixed blade?