Breakin Ankles

Monday, September 19, 2005


2:45 Saturday
I get a call from comrade. Our funds were running low and she said she had something big cooking. "Easy money, real quick" she said. She told me to meet her at a local eatery.

3:23 Saturday
I arrive to find comrade deep in thought. She begins to tell me the plan. It's bigger and more risky than I first thought. What did she have in mind?
She tells me, "I have a heist in mind...let's rob a bank".

Whoa. Rob a bank?! Me?! This was a bit much. I wanted to know more. Nay, I needed to know more. She proceeded to give me the details.

"Wow, now that's a good plan, comrade!"
The plan seemed easy... almost too easy. With little to no cash flow, I had no choice, so I jumped at the opportunity. A plan, devious in design and poetic by default was launched. It was on. But this was a big op.
We needed some help. We decided to enlist the services of a devious little dink named "Cole".

"Bank Robbery, huh? Keep talkin..." We explained the plan, and she was on board. Lastly, we needed a getaway driver. Who else to call but Cali's most notorious playa. Fredo.

He may look like a sweet kitten, but don't be fooled. If you get in his way, he'll run you the F over. He was just the man for the job.

So there we were: Me, Comrade, Cole, and Fredo. Four young tuffs 'bout to do some dirt. The mission was planned for Tuesday. We needed some rest, and some liquid courage.

DAY 2: The Heist.

1:24 Tuesday
Comrade calls and tells me there's a change of plan. "Forget the bank, lets hit this Brinks armored truck". Sho 'nuff.

2:24 Tuesday
The plan was a disaster. Comrade, Cole, and I had to flee with blood gushing from our many wounds. We had to find our getaway driver, Fredo. But where the fuck was he?! This was not going according to plan...

Turns out the bastard had too many cervezas and was busy having a drunk make-out session with some floozy he met at the bar. You'll pay for this Fredo!! Cole had been detained. Last I heard she was charged with being Dink-a-Stink in the 1st degree.

Comrade and I called up a backup getaway driver, an old Cuban friend of ours. But he showed up in this piece of shit ride. F that. Comrade and I had to escape by foot. Once again, we were left to our own devices.

We were fugitives. We had to disguise ourselves quick. So comrade, being quick on her feet (and quicker off her feet) put on a fake pair of glasses. Pure genius, Comrade, pure genius!

Following comrade's lead, I decided to disguise myself as well. I quickly turned my hat around. Instead of wearing it backwards, I was now wearing it forward. If we were gonna get caught, we sure as hell weren't gonna make it easy for em. Now we needed a hideout...

Surely, no one would think to look for us here.

The Aftermath:

After 2 days hiding out in a tree, we made our way on foot. Destination unknown. Odor unrecognizable. Cops still on our ass. Right when we thought all was lost, I notice something in the distance. But is it what I think it is?! No, it can't be... can it?! It's almost too good to be true.

It is!! In addition to blogging, my good friend Gold Nugget owns a chain of crappy restaurants. He fed us and gave us a place to hide out for a few days. All hail the nugget!

The next day, we broke Cole out of prison and somehow met up with Fredo. Nevermind the deatils. Where are we all now?
I can't tell you that, but just know this: Thank god for wi-fi on the high seas...


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