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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 12/16/2014
Rusted and worn was the firearm Jimmy clutched in his right hand, his pistol more a veteran of these Pine Hills streets than he. The gun passed down from older siblings had been used in no less than a dozen serious crimes over the past two decades and still around and ever ready to cause more chaos. The 45 had been owned by Jimmy’s older brother Dino; Dino was doing thirty years for his third armed robbery in thirteen years. The pistol had been used in two of them. Before Dino the Pistol was owned by Uncle Pete; he died with the firearm in his hand after being shot dead in a robbery attempt of a liquor store. As he fell out of the store’s glass doors propelled by the force of the shot gun blast that struck his chest, the pistol flew from his hand and on to the hot Florida concrete. A local jit named Cappy brought the retrieved firearm to the relatives of the fallen Pine Hills Soldier. The gun found its way into the hands of Pete’s stepson Marshal, now that was Marshal’s down fall. Marshal pulled the gun on some of his drug dealing rivals from the Pork and Bean only to have the old weapon lock up on him due to lax maintenance. He was shot three times by three different guns as his crew fired back at the offenders; their aim poor, yielded no victims. The pistol was again returned to the family to claim its next kin. That is when Dino’s cousin Cool committed a series of successful drug robberies with the gun until he robbed the wrong dealer; a shoot out ensued and the pistol performed well. None the less Cool was still hit in the abdomen and was losing pints of blood as he ran to the car and dove in. He died on the way to the hide out, was buried in the swamp and his share of the money and weapons were given to his kin Dino. Now the pistol was Jimmy’s and he was ready to put in work; he cleaned the pistol and oiled it well. He had been practicing shooting it late at night to learn to handle it expertly. Jimmy was seventeen now and the leader of his crew; they needed a triggerman and he planned on being it. Once he bucked some fools down then everybody else would have the courage to do the same. He would then lay back and be a shot caller. Jimmy jumped in his blue seventies boxed Chevy with dual exhaust and mob tent. He had big plans of jackin’ the busters over on North Lane stomping behind the Bar near the corner of Powers. He was going to pick up his home boy Scooby who he had laid the plan out to hours before. Jimmy turned his music down and eased into his friend’s driveway; he concealed his firearm as he entered the home. Jimmy wanted to show Scooby what he was working with. He knocked on the door, was greeted with some dap and then followed Scooby to the back of the house. He laid the pistol on the bar top then unwrapped the felt rag it was draped in and before stating, “Hey man look at this gat.”
Then he heard… ”click, click” behind his left ear.
“So you wanna Jack uh homeboy! You ain’t know me and Scooby was cousins did you?”
BLOW! Those were the last sounds young Jimmy ever heard as the pistol had claimed yet another victim in his family and seamlessly made its way into another's grip. Unknown is what havoc it would harvest in the hands of new hoodlums.
Family pistol
Family Pistol(Cam Rascoe)
Rusted and worn was the firearm Jimmy clutched in his right hand, his pistol more a veteran of these Pine Hills streets than he. The gun passed down from older siblings had been used in no less than a dozen serious crimes over the past two decades and still around and ever ready to cause more chaos. The 45 had been owned by Jimmy’s older brother Dino; Dino was doing thirty years for his third armed robbery in thirteen years. The pistol had been used in two of them. Before Dino the Pistol was owned by Uncle Pete; he died with the firearm in his hand after being shot dead in a robbery attempt of a liquor store. As he fell out of the store’s glass doors propelled by the force of the shot gun blast that struck his chest, the pistol flew from his hand and on to the hot Florida concrete. A local jit named Cappy brought the retrieved firearm to the relatives of the fallen Pine Hills Soldier. The gun found its way into the hands of Pete’s stepson Marshal, now that was Marshal’s down fall. Marshal pulled the gun on some of his drug dealing rivals from the Pork and Bean only to have the old weapon lock up on him due to lax maintenance. He was shot three times by three different guns as his crew fired back at the offenders; their aim poor, yielded no victims. The pistol was again returned to the family to claim its next kin. That is when Dino’s cousin Cool committed a series of successful drug robberies with the gun until he robbed the wrong dealer; a shoot out ensued and the pistol performed well. None the less Cool was still hit in the abdomen and was losing pints of blood as he ran to the car and dove in. He died on the way to the hide out, was buried in the swamp and his share of the money and weapons were given to his kin Dino. Now the pistol was Jimmy’s and he was ready to put in work; he cleaned the pistol and oiled it well. He had been practicing shooting it late at night to learn to handle it expertly. Jimmy was seventeen now and the leader of his crew; they needed a triggerman and he planned on being it. Once he bucked some fools down then everybody else would have the courage to do the same. He would then lay back and be a shot caller. Jimmy jumped in his blue seventies boxed Chevy with dual exhaust and mob tent. He had big plans of jackin’ the busters over on North Lane stomping behind the Bar near the corner of Powers. He was going to pick up his home boy Scooby who he had laid the plan out to hours before. Jimmy turned his music down and eased into his friend’s driveway; he concealed his firearm as he entered the home. Jimmy wanted to show Scooby what he was working with. He knocked on the door, was greeted with some dap and then followed Scooby to the back of the house. He laid the pistol on the bar top then unwrapped the felt rag it was draped in and before stating, “Hey man look at this gat.”
Then he heard… ”click, click” behind his left ear.
“So you wanna Jack uh homeboy! You ain’t know me and Scooby was cousins did you?”
BLOW! Those were the last sounds young Jimmy ever heard as the pistol had claimed yet another victim in his family and seamlessly made its way into another's grip. Unknown is what havoc it would harvest in the hands of new hoodlums.
Family pistol
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