From Each According To His Amperage
On Saturday I jumped two helpless guys on Ridge as people sat in their cars and watched. The traffic backed up to the corner of Stanton. What could they do, honk at me?
I had been jumped (not successfully) a couple of weeks previous over on Norfolk, across from the school. Before walking away, looking down at my dejected mug the guy had said, don't worry about it, it happens to all of us. As if that was going to make me feel better. I was beat, going nowhere, dead on the street. I never even got in a punch.
So jumping the guys on Ridge seemed like the thing to do. You know, payback. They were not deserving of their situation but things happen for a reason. And in the end not a one of the spectators even honked. Because they could tell I meant business. Like I would be out jumping people if they didn't deserve it. The two guys were helpless. Isn't that reason enough to jump someone?
The gods looked down and smiled on me for jumping the helpless, and after one more pass around a group of blocks that had for all previous passes given up nothing, the rarest thing happened--two spaces opened on Suffolk, one viewable from the other, offering the full range of parking possibility as they were, separated by Rivington, one on the left and one on the right. I backed parallel fashion into the one on the left while the two men I had jumped, now less than helpless, and empowered by a minor Marxist moment, revved their engine on Ridge.
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