Waking up yesterday felt like any other usual entry to the machine, kicking off a new day for the existence that we call the hustle. Everything seemed like nothing out of the norm, until "The Mooch"
Throughout my entire life,
I've always been aware when different things are probably just about to come to light and surface ahead, and within it lies something, or a situation, potentially sad, violent, but most certainly aggressive, is either in front of me, or some other poor bastard who is extremely close to me.
This has been happening my entire life, it's only in the past ten or so years that when this uncontrollable sense comes around, as opposed to being so quick to write them off as daft wee gut feelings, I identify them as my natural strong intuitions of clairvoyance, they lead me to button down the emotional hatches, put the guard up, and brace myself for the wicked this way comes.
Yesterday morning those mystical, yet real signs of warning that lays within all of us didn't present themselves, were of no use to me & yielded no warning to what kind of a day lay ahead, despite surfacing later in the afternoon,
Now did the clairvoyance juju come too little too late yesterday, or is it that sometimes the universe and all its chains of events in the fabric of time, stick a piece of shit coward in front of your path, and unfortunately, the only way of getting around these pimples on the arshole of the universe, is by going right through them?
My new job position has me taking public transit on the TTC from my home at Saint Clair station, To meeting my work partner in Rexdale getting off at Islington station.
Our day today kicks off meeting in the parking lot going over our day ahead of us, Getting up there and chasing the corn returning to the parking lot in Rexdale, and parting having him homeward bound to Waterlo0, and me back on the TTC making tracks towards Saint Clair West.
Now if you've gone through Islington station, you would be aware that there is a bakery in the underground, been there for several years now. I have eaten Jamaican patties all across the city, and I dare say it's one of the best Jamaican patties I've had, and the price is right as well (except for yesterday). The quick grab and go for the commuter is owned independently By two lovely wee Asian owners that are always quick with a smile and a chuckle and wish you good luck on your day ahead, or safe travels home when you're heading up the road.
Yesterday, I'm on my way home heading into Islington station where the beloved bakery lies, I was actually on my way to get the westbound train When I found my stomach leading me going out of my way backpedaling to hit the bakery for one of those golden Jamaican patties.
Now those little clairvoyant messages or presence that I was speaking of that usually present themselves early, came around that very second I decided to backpedal, and do a u-turn in my commute, and grab that Pattie before I went to my train & I caught myself, saying to myself, you aware that you are back peddling to go for this, it was significant, & had felt I wasn't listening.
Leading up to the entry doors of the bakery was a young lad who stood outside, maybe a foot taller than me. Now as I was leading towards the door he was in front of it with that ever-so-familiar look on his face that he was ready to hit me up for some change,
no big deal.
Now you see there are different types of panhandlers, some people that could just use a hand in a jam, people of less desire, and someone that just genuinely needs a couple of bucks to do whatever the fuck it is with the cash, and its is none of my business.
If I am up and on the good foot, sometimes I will stop and say you know what here you go pal whatever the coin Maybe, whatever the reason, I do take time out when I can to grease the wheel, but it depends on the individual who's hand is out.
If money was in abundance, I dare say I would love the opportunity where money was no object, to stop with every single one, and grease every single one of their wheels, no questions asked, but that's far from the case, so you put in what you can, when you can, to those that are genuinely in need. My
intuitions and judge of character told me straight out of the get-go
he was not one of those.
I went to walk into the bakery and this is when,
(due to the name unknown we will call it "Mooch)" THE LAD IN THE PICTURES
Had stopped me in my tracks to say
"Hey yo look listen man can I get some change B"
To which I responded by walking through the bakery doors
"sorry man today is not a good day, can't help you out"
I get through the bakery doors and this ever so annoying voice of the mooch is still following me right behind me into the bakery up to the counter, pleading his pathetic pitch,
Now by this time, I can also tell he is either high or drunk, still no excuse because now he's in my personal space, and he's following me and he has my attention and the rest of the bakery.
it is safe to say now my guard is up.
Now at this point, the mooch is still going on, part aggressively and certainly concerning, on and on and on asking me for money.
It was then I put my nap sack on the counter, looked straight at him,
"Said listen, pal, I'm trying to get home I'm just finished my work, I don't want any trouble, I don't have any fucking money for you, now fuck off and go away, I'm not asking you kindly I'm warning you"
Then of course immediately the mooches back goes up, the peacock feathers come out and, I am bombarded with
"What did you say what did you fucking say I'll take that money off you, you fucking want some of this, and blah blah blah "things of this threatening nature.
Now It is fight or flight, I have put my knapsack down on the counter which has the contents of possibly $150 of my cash and my personal belongings. Both of us are squaring up face-to-face in the middle of a bloody bakery when I'm trying to make my tracks home to relax after a hard day's work, and I now find myself having to go potentially face-to-face with a stranger because I won't give up my pocket change.
Now to know me it's to know that I would avoid physical violence and confrontation at all costs, it is the last resort, and 9o out of my way to avoid conflict, unless it's self-defense, or have been done wrong.
This was for both of those reasons, my back was against the wall , but every person hits that point where peace goes out the window, and its fight or flight
Now as me and the mooch are dancing in the pathetic circle squaring up ...
now for some reason, when I'm cornered, very rare, I'm possessed and the Glaswegian comes out in me and I start screaming in Scottish before anything escalates, it just comes naturally, It's a poison that spews out like a defense mechanism firing up my adrenaline, and for these horrible godforsaken times, you need to access them.
As I'm screaming make your fucking move or something to this nature, he reaches his right arm behind his back and draws out a gun with the holster half out of the bag looking at me yelling
"do you fucking want some motherfucker" and all of this bullshit of that nature?
Now I will tell you, that was the 1st time in my life I ever got to feel the experience of what it's like when someone has pulled a gun on you, and your life is very well potentially on the line.
You can premeditate that scenario or the situation, and say a million ways to Sunday what you would do in that situation, and how it would go down, and how you would diffuse it, or how you would react and blah blah, but when it happens in real-time, you're shitting bricks, nanoseconds feel like a lifetime, and you are making decisions quicker than a brain surgeon in those nanoseconds, and meanwhile, the ground is moving fast, and the bakery is spinning. After all, you're one wrong move away from well, pretty much laying in a pool of blood, all because you wanted to buy a fucking Jamaican pattie on the way home, it was a hoot!
So the mooch has the gun half holstered, and this dance lasted maybe a mere 10 seconds, but those 10 seconds were the longest 10 seconds of my fucking life, during those 10 seconds, as we're dancing, I'm fearing for my life, but not giving up my guard.
So now he's also put his hands on my knapsack and has it, which has about $150 Cash Plus all my personal belongings, Then, all of a sudden, the wee lady behind the counter screamed... it's not a real gun it's fake.
I will never forget the sound of those words for the rest of my life.
Nor will I ever forget to look at the mooches's face.
as his eyes circumference opened up and multiplied by the power of 10.
He looked like an animated fucking cartoon with his face riddled with all the tell tale signs that, Oopsie Daisy, shit I'm caught I'm burnt, the games a bogey, and I am fucked
That was that lady screaming from the top of her lungs and doing whatever it takes for me to get the message that
I'm gonna be OK, he's full of shit and it's go time.
With his attention taken, I dare say by the time she finished that sentence, I had my hands on my knapsack that he was holding, ripped it off of him, and then started to retaliate, giving him several blows to the face with the knapsack still in my hands and the ladies yelling the police are on the way. forced onto him, retrieving my knapsack, threw three well-connecting rights as he slipped out of my grip
Needless to say, the mooch went from a terrifying West End Subway gangster packing a pistol that had me fearing for my life, to one of the quickest Olympian Runner Subway thieves I've ever seen do the 500-meter dash in history of purse snatching, pocket-picking, bike stealing, window growling, smash and grab, dirty low down scum bag in my history. It was a win for the good guys, but fear not, it was terrifying up until the moment we found out he was running around with what was probably his baby brother's fucking toy gun.
Now that Jamaican Patty yesterday could have potentially cost me my life, but one thing's for sure if the police would have arrived during that episode, on the scene with the leech, branding a gun in his hand, unfortunately, the police officers would have shot him on site.
Now mooch if you're seeing this, and reading this, or you are someone that may know the mooch If you can take away one thing from this !
You need to take away, how close you came from dying that day,
Not because you got in a conflict and you had it coming, but because of the simple fact that you had it drummed up inside your P brain head that you could play gangster amongst the common folk in the city of Toronto, yielding a plastic fucking gun that would have had you 6' feet under, in a pine box for your stupidity, leaving nothing behind. and at the funeral service, and when the clergy funeral home mc is sharing your past and achievements, your legacy will read, how you managed to get gunned down in a subway bakery, trying to rob change from a commuter, You terrified old senior citizen women, and that you left behind a mother with a broken heart.
It is to anyone, I advise that wants to play games with the innocent people yielding fake guns and putting fear in the decent folk....
keep on doing what you're doing
and you'll end up in that pine box
and become a statistic.
As much as I made light humor to this story, in real-time it's terrifying.
This Scenario happens daily, numerous times all across the city, sometimes with fake toy guns, but even more so with real guns.
We are living in a society where the illegal use of loaded firearms or water guns, comes with minimal consequence, and 9 out of 10, are innocent civilians that fucking pay for it.
We need stricter laws on gun violence, and we need to tighten up the staff behind the counters that are selling squirt guns too.
So mooch I say to you if you're reading this,
take this as no joke,
I have gone to the dollar store today,
I have armed myself with one of the latest in water gun weaponry
for protection should we cross paths
I can assure you it will be cocked, loaded and filled to the rim.
Peew Pew Pew....Pew Pew
( In this world of mooches
there are good mooches, and there are bad mooches
Nobody likes a fucking bad mooch)
Anthony, "still got the pattie at the end of the gunfight", Donnelly
May good juju find you