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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 08/22/2020
Asking for a Candy Bar and Receiving the Candy Store
Born 1973, M, from Ocoee, Florida, United StatesAsking for a Candy Bar and Receiving the Whole Candy Store
Kerry was bored, looking for some action and he knew just where to find it. His uncle, thirty years his elder, was always in and out of prison but he was respected in the city like not many other small time hustlers and gangsters. Tom Fry was legendary for all of his criminal adventures of the previous forty years. He was a Paul Bunyan figure, folk hero of the hood, inspiration of folklore and subject of many a comical crime story. Like Paul Bunyan much of what was said about Tom Fry hand been embellished. Tall tales told by the most talented story tellers. Even other criminals' crimes were accredited to “Hot Guy” Tom Fry.
People loved Tom Fry because he was thought to be a Robin Hood figure as well. He was believed to have robbed from the rich and given to the poor, handing out turkeys during the holidays. In actuality he did give out about twenty free turkeys one Thanksgiving after robbing a wholesale butcher and meat processing plant. He couldn't get off all of the birds so he set up like Nino Brown from New Jack City and passed out turkeys around town. He made sure that everyone knew who he had fed and eventually those numbers were fudged and exaggerated as well. Every other time Tom Fry, the Robin Hood of his hood Pine Hills, gave to folks it was him paying a debt which he kept many. Always being arrested and incarcerated left a lot of missions incomplete and him owing people drugs, money, weapons and merchandise.
Tom Fry, back on the block at age fifty-three, found a new old place to distribute his drugs. Washington Shores Shopping Center was the new spot and he reveled in the reputation he held there.
“Hot guy Tom Fry! What's up Baby.”
He exchanged pleasantries with Tommy, a cocaine addicted man who worked odd jobs and hustled just to stay high. After chatting for a few minutes, a hand to hand drug transaction took place. A thirty bag of coke and dime bag of weed were copped then Tommy was on his way into the store to buy some blunts, beer and cigarettes. Tom Fry sat back down at the round concrete table under the large shade tree with the rest of the dealers, junkies and short stoppers. Instead of threatening or running off the short stoppers he employed the middle men to help him move his product. Instead of having them ruining the reputation of their trap by selling dummies or fake drugs to customers who came through, he fronted them product. Most of them were small time dealers just hustling enough to survive everyday. It was the wild west under that tree, on those concrete benches and at those round tables. Any body could sell what and whatever they wanted as long as they were familiar. Tom was allowed there because of his reputation and silver tongue. Truly a legend in his own mind because he was well aware of the falsehoods told about him, but he allowed himself to be elevated by the lies.
Kerry looked up to his uncle just as every young aspiring knuckle head in their hood did. He wanted to make a little quick cash but more importantly he just wanted a little action. His parents were hardworking middle class folks and he had everything he needed, but the twenty-three year old didn't have much of a work ethic and he prided himself on being real and hard. A bit of a bully Kerry had always been, but he was a “mama's boy” too, always punching down on someone weaker, smaller or passive. He listened to some gangster tunes driving across town from Pine Hills to Washington Shores to meet his infamous uncle while his parents vacationed in Tampa. When he pulled up there he saw the famous Tom Fry surrounded by some of his fans, friends and fiends.
“What's up Uncle Tom!?”
Tom gave his older brother's son a frown before offering him a greeting.
“Boy, I told you don't ever call me that!”
Kerry laughed, trying to play it off.
“My bad, my bad. What's up Tom Fry?”
“You tell me young blood.”
The two embraced and then Kerry pulled his uncle to the side so that they could speak in private.
“Yo, I'm tryin' ta come up on somethin'. I need to get money.”
“Why don't you ask your mama and daddy. I know they give you whatever you need and most of what you want and they damn sure don't want yo ass down here foolin' wit me either.”
Kerry tried to laugh it off.
“Man I'm grown now. I'm my own man. I don't need to be going to my mom and dad for everything. I can get my own... if you help me.”
Tom Fry laughed at his naive nephew.
“So what you tryin' ta do? You want to hustle out here or in the Hills or you want to do some collecting for me?
Kerry thought about it for a moment before answering.
“What you need me to collect?”
Tom fry ran down the free easy jobs he needed his nephew to handle for him. Kerry anxiously agreed. After collecting his marching orders he was on his way. Tom decided to test him by calling ahead to tell his worker to resist slightly.
“Hello.”
T Money was breathing so hard he could barely speak.
“T Money this you, what's up man?”
“He pulled a gun, put it in my face.”
“Who, what you talkin' 'bout?”
“Your people man. He busted up in here asking for the money. I told him I didn't have it, then he stuck a gun in my face. He told me if I didn't come up with the money, he was going to put a hole in my face.”
Tom Fry snickered a little and T Money heard him.
“This ain't funny man. I looked in that jit's eyes and I knew he wanted to shoot me man. He wanted me to not have the money so that he could have a reason to shoot me in the face. You better get that lil' jit, somethin' wrong wit him!”
Tom Fry got serious and reassured T Money that he would deal with the situation. He apologized and told him that he would call him later. As soon as he hung up, his phone rang again. There was no greeting, just frantic yelling.
“Man who this young crazy dude you sent 'round ta my house. He like ta got his ass burnt. Grabbed me by my collar off my front porch talkin' 'bout where your money at? Man if I knew you wanted it that bad I would've been come 'round there wit it...”
After interrupting and calming the man down. Tom Fry explained what was going on and apologized for his nephew's harsh behavior. He promised his man Jabo that he would make it right. He abruptly ended his conversation when Kerry walked up on him. He pulled him to the backside of the buildings.
“You alright jit?”
“Yeah, what you mean? Here's your money. Now who you want me to go see next?”
“Man you a trip, running around sticking guns in my homeboys' faces. Those guys are on my team.”
Tom Fry chuckled out loud before continuing on.
“You running around playing tough sticking up fifty year old men. Boy you crazy. You lucky one of them old heads didn't fire on you. If you wasn't screaming my name they would have.”
He shook his head and chuckled before continuing on.
You know, yo daddy used to be crazy when he was young too. He chilled out when he had you. Maybe you need to have a baby and chill out too.”
Kerry kicked a trash can over in the alley way startling his uncle.
“What's wrong with you man!”
Kerry paced back and forth.
“Man I'm tired of this shit!”
“What?!”
“Every body always acting like I can't handle my business in these streets! You 'round here sending me to old people houses to collect money because you think I ain't hard enough to get it from a real...”
“I got it. Look boy, I just don't want you out here getting in no trouble. I figured I'd help you get a little money without you getting too dirty out here. Man if something ever happened to you, your daddy would kill me. As matter of fact, if something happens I'm gonna act like I don't know what time it is.”
The two of them shared a laugh briefly, then the wild eyed Kerry turned serious again.
“Look man put me on some real. Let me do this. You already know I got my own heat.”
“Yeah by the way, where you get that from?”
“Watch out man. I'm grown now.”
Tom Fry stepped back and put his hands in the air. Then he paused as if to think better of doing something. Yet he spoke harm for gain nonetheless to his foolish young nephew of no plan and ill intentions. The conversation went simple and plain.
“I do need somebody to go see this boy who playin' wit it and tryin' me.”
Kerry almost jumped for joy, so excited to get an opportunity to put in work.
“Who is he? Where he at? Let me get at 'em.”
Tom hadn't seen this in his nephew before. The boy was looking real crazy in his eyes, anxious to cause pain in pursuit of hood heroism and power.
“Alright it's Ronnie Brown from Chill Town. You know him right?”
“Yeah I know that dude, he was a punk and nerd in school. He playin' wit it? I got something for his soft ass.”
Tom Fry extended a warning to his nephew.
“Look, don't underestimate that man. He did a few bids while you was on your mama's couch. Ronnie ain't the same dude from the ninth grade and shit. Be careful, cool, collected. Talk to the man first.”
Kerry nodded his acknowledgment out of respect, but he was letting it all go in one ear and out the other. He was going to handle the situation they way he saw fit. Standing six feet, three inches and weighing two hundred and forty pounds Kerry had always tried to throw his weight around. Usually being big was enough for him to come out on top. After getting the word, Kerry raced to Carver Shores where Ronnie Brown was staying and hustling. He pulled up down the block from the blue house in the cull-de-sac his uncle told him. Right to the front screen door he ran, banging like he was the police.
“Ronnie Brown. Open up, I need ta holla at cha! Ronnie Brown!”
Inside Ronnie sat with a few of his fans, friends and fiends. All of them were high on some of everything, paranoia spread throughout the room.
“Who is that fool at the door? He ain't the police but he banging like he's the damn law.”
“Somebody should smoke that fool. If he ain't the law, with all of that banging and screaming he is going to make somebody call them.”
They listened a little longer.
“Just wait a minute and maybe the fool will get tired and go away.”
Eventually the banging and yelling ceased and everybody went back to getting high in peace. But the persistent Kerry wouldn't stop. He was around back checking windows and doors like a cat burglar. Everyone in the house could here him rustling around in the high grass.
“That fool gonna set the alarm off on the house and send the police here.”
“Look we need to deal with him.”
Finally Ronnie Brown spoke up.
“Alright, Alright!”
Quickly he crept down the hall to the master bedroom, then into the master bathroom. There was a door that led to the pool from the master bedroom. He slid out of the door and got the drop on Kerry.
“Don't move!”
Kerry spun around with gun raised but never got off a shot. Ronnie Brown put five slugs in him before he hit the ground. Panicked, he ordered everyone to come outside and help dispose of the body. Then he recognized the man he killed.
“Damn man, I used to go to school wit Jit.”
The neighbors paid no attention to the shots fired or the commotion afterwards. Ronnie Brown and his band of junkies tied Kerry's body down to a small board walk in a retention pond across from his cul-de-sac. Some old man built the tiny boardwalk over two decades earlier for his grandsons to launch their play boats from. Twenty years later it is a dirty little pond with a dirty little ecosystem that no one ever entered or disturbed.
It was hurricane season in Florida but still late in the fall. So there was plenty of rain and not quite as much sun. The retention pond was full, so there Kerry lay in his watery grave at twenty-three years of age. In plain sight he bobbed, just below the surface.
When word got back to Tom Fry he mourned his nephew then quickly covered his tracks. He had Kerry's car cleaned, driven back to his house and dropped off. He put the keys back in his room and locked the door behind him. Kerry's disappearance was unexplained, eventually becoming a cold case and then a mystery to his distraught parents and family. His murder would not go avenged either. The biggest lie about Tom Fry was that he was a tough guy. He was just a street survivor, knowing when to fold up tent and where to run to for safety. He knew that Ronnie Brown was crazy so he wasn't trying to confront him directly, he knew his crazy lifestyle would eventually do him in. Eventually it did four months later, and the streets would add the murder of Ronnie Brown to the legend of Tom Fry. The streets had their answers and official story while for the family there would be no such closure, with one of their own taking secrets to his grave.
It would seem young Kerry wanted to do dirt for the thrill, do it for the respect of the gangsters in his beloved Pine Hills. He thought just maybe he might have to kill in search of his thrill, but not in his wildest dreams would he have believed that he might be the one killed. Sweets are not good for us but it seems we always want more. Young boy thought it was sweet but he got more than he bargained for. Kerry just wanted a candy bar but instead he got the whole candy store.
Asking for a Candy Bar and Receiving the Candy Store(Cam Rascoe)
Asking for a Candy Bar and Receiving the Whole Candy Store
Kerry was bored, looking for some action and he knew just where to find it. His uncle, thirty years his elder, was always in and out of prison but he was respected in the city like not many other small time hustlers and gangsters. Tom Fry was legendary for all of his criminal adventures of the previous forty years. He was a Paul Bunyan figure, folk hero of the hood, inspiration of folklore and subject of many a comical crime story. Like Paul Bunyan much of what was said about Tom Fry hand been embellished. Tall tales told by the most talented story tellers. Even other criminals' crimes were accredited to “Hot Guy” Tom Fry.
People loved Tom Fry because he was thought to be a Robin Hood figure as well. He was believed to have robbed from the rich and given to the poor, handing out turkeys during the holidays. In actuality he did give out about twenty free turkeys one Thanksgiving after robbing a wholesale butcher and meat processing plant. He couldn't get off all of the birds so he set up like Nino Brown from New Jack City and passed out turkeys around town. He made sure that everyone knew who he had fed and eventually those numbers were fudged and exaggerated as well. Every other time Tom Fry, the Robin Hood of his hood Pine Hills, gave to folks it was him paying a debt which he kept many. Always being arrested and incarcerated left a lot of missions incomplete and him owing people drugs, money, weapons and merchandise.
Tom Fry, back on the block at age fifty-three, found a new old place to distribute his drugs. Washington Shores Shopping Center was the new spot and he reveled in the reputation he held there.
“Hot guy Tom Fry! What's up Baby.”
He exchanged pleasantries with Tommy, a cocaine addicted man who worked odd jobs and hustled just to stay high. After chatting for a few minutes, a hand to hand drug transaction took place. A thirty bag of coke and dime bag of weed were copped then Tommy was on his way into the store to buy some blunts, beer and cigarettes. Tom Fry sat back down at the round concrete table under the large shade tree with the rest of the dealers, junkies and short stoppers. Instead of threatening or running off the short stoppers he employed the middle men to help him move his product. Instead of having them ruining the reputation of their trap by selling dummies or fake drugs to customers who came through, he fronted them product. Most of them were small time dealers just hustling enough to survive everyday. It was the wild west under that tree, on those concrete benches and at those round tables. Any body could sell what and whatever they wanted as long as they were familiar. Tom was allowed there because of his reputation and silver tongue. Truly a legend in his own mind because he was well aware of the falsehoods told about him, but he allowed himself to be elevated by the lies.
Kerry looked up to his uncle just as every young aspiring knuckle head in their hood did. He wanted to make a little quick cash but more importantly he just wanted a little action. His parents were hardworking middle class folks and he had everything he needed, but the twenty-three year old didn't have much of a work ethic and he prided himself on being real and hard. A bit of a bully Kerry had always been, but he was a “mama's boy” too, always punching down on someone weaker, smaller or passive. He listened to some gangster tunes driving across town from Pine Hills to Washington Shores to meet his infamous uncle while his parents vacationed in Tampa. When he pulled up there he saw the famous Tom Fry surrounded by some of his fans, friends and fiends.
“What's up Uncle Tom!?”
Tom gave his older brother's son a frown before offering him a greeting.
“Boy, I told you don't ever call me that!”
Kerry laughed, trying to play it off.
“My bad, my bad. What's up Tom Fry?”
“You tell me young blood.”
The two embraced and then Kerry pulled his uncle to the side so that they could speak in private.
“Yo, I'm tryin' ta come up on somethin'. I need to get money.”
“Why don't you ask your mama and daddy. I know they give you whatever you need and most of what you want and they damn sure don't want yo ass down here foolin' wit me either.”
Kerry tried to laugh it off.
“Man I'm grown now. I'm my own man. I don't need to be going to my mom and dad for everything. I can get my own... if you help me.”
Tom Fry laughed at his naive nephew.
“So what you tryin' ta do? You want to hustle out here or in the Hills or you want to do some collecting for me?
Kerry thought about it for a moment before answering.
“What you need me to collect?”
Tom fry ran down the free easy jobs he needed his nephew to handle for him. Kerry anxiously agreed. After collecting his marching orders he was on his way. Tom decided to test him by calling ahead to tell his worker to resist slightly.
“Hello.”
T Money was breathing so hard he could barely speak.
“T Money this you, what's up man?”
“He pulled a gun, put it in my face.”
“Who, what you talkin' 'bout?”
“Your people man. He busted up in here asking for the money. I told him I didn't have it, then he stuck a gun in my face. He told me if I didn't come up with the money, he was going to put a hole in my face.”
Tom Fry snickered a little and T Money heard him.
“This ain't funny man. I looked in that jit's eyes and I knew he wanted to shoot me man. He wanted me to not have the money so that he could have a reason to shoot me in the face. You better get that lil' jit, somethin' wrong wit him!”
Tom Fry got serious and reassured T Money that he would deal with the situation. He apologized and told him that he would call him later. As soon as he hung up, his phone rang again. There was no greeting, just frantic yelling.
“Man who this young crazy dude you sent 'round ta my house. He like ta got his ass burnt. Grabbed me by my collar off my front porch talkin' 'bout where your money at? Man if I knew you wanted it that bad I would've been come 'round there wit it...”
After interrupting and calming the man down. Tom Fry explained what was going on and apologized for his nephew's harsh behavior. He promised his man Jabo that he would make it right. He abruptly ended his conversation when Kerry walked up on him. He pulled him to the backside of the buildings.
“You alright jit?”
“Yeah, what you mean? Here's your money. Now who you want me to go see next?”
“Man you a trip, running around sticking guns in my homeboys' faces. Those guys are on my team.”
Tom Fry chuckled out loud before continuing on.
“You running around playing tough sticking up fifty year old men. Boy you crazy. You lucky one of them old heads didn't fire on you. If you wasn't screaming my name they would have.”
He shook his head and chuckled before continuing on.
You know, yo daddy used to be crazy when he was young too. He chilled out when he had you. Maybe you need to have a baby and chill out too.”
Kerry kicked a trash can over in the alley way startling his uncle.
“What's wrong with you man!”
Kerry paced back and forth.
“Man I'm tired of this shit!”
“What?!”
“Every body always acting like I can't handle my business in these streets! You 'round here sending me to old people houses to collect money because you think I ain't hard enough to get it from a real...”
“I got it. Look boy, I just don't want you out here getting in no trouble. I figured I'd help you get a little money without you getting too dirty out here. Man if something ever happened to you, your daddy would kill me. As matter of fact, if something happens I'm gonna act like I don't know what time it is.”
The two of them shared a laugh briefly, then the wild eyed Kerry turned serious again.
“Look man put me on some real. Let me do this. You already know I got my own heat.”
“Yeah by the way, where you get that from?”
“Watch out man. I'm grown now.”
Tom Fry stepped back and put his hands in the air. Then he paused as if to think better of doing something. Yet he spoke harm for gain nonetheless to his foolish young nephew of no plan and ill intentions. The conversation went simple and plain.
“I do need somebody to go see this boy who playin' wit it and tryin' me.”
Kerry almost jumped for joy, so excited to get an opportunity to put in work.
“Who is he? Where he at? Let me get at 'em.”
Tom hadn't seen this in his nephew before. The boy was looking real crazy in his eyes, anxious to cause pain in pursuit of hood heroism and power.
“Alright it's Ronnie Brown from Chill Town. You know him right?”
“Yeah I know that dude, he was a punk and nerd in school. He playin' wit it? I got something for his soft ass.”
Tom Fry extended a warning to his nephew.
“Look, don't underestimate that man. He did a few bids while you was on your mama's couch. Ronnie ain't the same dude from the ninth grade and shit. Be careful, cool, collected. Talk to the man first.”
Kerry nodded his acknowledgment out of respect, but he was letting it all go in one ear and out the other. He was going to handle the situation they way he saw fit. Standing six feet, three inches and weighing two hundred and forty pounds Kerry had always tried to throw his weight around. Usually being big was enough for him to come out on top. After getting the word, Kerry raced to Carver Shores where Ronnie Brown was staying and hustling. He pulled up down the block from the blue house in the cull-de-sac his uncle told him. Right to the front screen door he ran, banging like he was the police.
“Ronnie Brown. Open up, I need ta holla at cha! Ronnie Brown!”
Inside Ronnie sat with a few of his fans, friends and fiends. All of them were high on some of everything, paranoia spread throughout the room.
“Who is that fool at the door? He ain't the police but he banging like he's the damn law.”
“Somebody should smoke that fool. If he ain't the law, with all of that banging and screaming he is going to make somebody call them.”
They listened a little longer.
“Just wait a minute and maybe the fool will get tired and go away.”
Eventually the banging and yelling ceased and everybody went back to getting high in peace. But the persistent Kerry wouldn't stop. He was around back checking windows and doors like a cat burglar. Everyone in the house could here him rustling around in the high grass.
“That fool gonna set the alarm off on the house and send the police here.”
“Look we need to deal with him.”
Finally Ronnie Brown spoke up.
“Alright, Alright!”
Quickly he crept down the hall to the master bedroom, then into the master bathroom. There was a door that led to the pool from the master bedroom. He slid out of the door and got the drop on Kerry.
“Don't move!”
Kerry spun around with gun raised but never got off a shot. Ronnie Brown put five slugs in him before he hit the ground. Panicked, he ordered everyone to come outside and help dispose of the body. Then he recognized the man he killed.
“Damn man, I used to go to school wit Jit.”
The neighbors paid no attention to the shots fired or the commotion afterwards. Ronnie Brown and his band of junkies tied Kerry's body down to a small board walk in a retention pond across from his cul-de-sac. Some old man built the tiny boardwalk over two decades earlier for his grandsons to launch their play boats from. Twenty years later it is a dirty little pond with a dirty little ecosystem that no one ever entered or disturbed.
It was hurricane season in Florida but still late in the fall. So there was plenty of rain and not quite as much sun. The retention pond was full, so there Kerry lay in his watery grave at twenty-three years of age. In plain sight he bobbed, just below the surface.
When word got back to Tom Fry he mourned his nephew then quickly covered his tracks. He had Kerry's car cleaned, driven back to his house and dropped off. He put the keys back in his room and locked the door behind him. Kerry's disappearance was unexplained, eventually becoming a cold case and then a mystery to his distraught parents and family. His murder would not go avenged either. The biggest lie about Tom Fry was that he was a tough guy. He was just a street survivor, knowing when to fold up tent and where to run to for safety. He knew that Ronnie Brown was crazy so he wasn't trying to confront him directly, he knew his crazy lifestyle would eventually do him in. Eventually it did four months later, and the streets would add the murder of Ronnie Brown to the legend of Tom Fry. The streets had their answers and official story while for the family there would be no such closure, with one of their own taking secrets to his grave.
It would seem young Kerry wanted to do dirt for the thrill, do it for the respect of the gangsters in his beloved Pine Hills. He thought just maybe he might have to kill in search of his thrill, but not in his wildest dreams would he have believed that he might be the one killed. Sweets are not good for us but it seems we always want more. Young boy thought it was sweet but he got more than he bargained for. Kerry just wanted a candy bar but instead he got the whole candy store.
JD
10/04/2020I know your story is fiction, but I would venture to guess there are a lot of similar real life stories playing out around the world with young people getting themselves killed by doing stupid things in a stupid way, thinking it's going to get them somewhere. Like you said... they're looking for candy, never knowing they might end up buying the store! Thanks for sharing this great cautionary tale, Cam. Happy Short Story STAR of the Week! : )
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Cam Rascoe
04/24/2023Thank you JD I write these cautionary tales in the hopes that it may help someone. I pray they are received well. I appreciate the honor.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
08/24/2020Hey Cam,
Yep. Young Bloods, street life, and live fast - die young. It is a cycle as old as recorded History. Well done!
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Cam Rascoe
08/25/2020Thank you Kevin, that is so true. That is why I offer these cautionary tales because I have seen it far too many time, kids throwing away their future trying to be something they weren't meant to be.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
08/22/2020That’s a great story Cam. Very true to life.
It’s very much like the series I have just started watching. The gangs of London. A great series so far. :-)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Cam Rascoe
08/25/2020I appreciate you kind critique Gail. The Gangs of London, I saw it advertised and now with your recommendation, I have just got to check it out.
COMMENTS (3)