Did Delano Do It?

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There is some merit in lining up a bunch of dudes against a wall while you point a gun at them. You get to see what they are made of, the man of gold, the man of straw. As I studied my roommates, James, Tate, Robert, David, and Joe Judah they looked, shamed, or ashamed. The Home Invader had just asked these hippies to give him all their money.

“They don’t have any money!” James said in disgust.
“How do you know that – fat boy!”
“Because I’m running a Loan Shark Operation here. I lend these guys money from the allowance I get from my Mommy in Oakland. They owe me big time, with interest. I’ll cut you in you don’t shoot me.”
“How much do you gross a month?” asked the intruder.
“Ah! About….” and James takes out his little back book. “About $39 dollars.”
“What!! You dare say you are a loan shark? I aught to plug you for insulting me!”

This was your classic Mexican standoff, because there was no closure here. The Home Invader felt like a fool. “What am I thinking to hold up a bunch of sorry-ass hippies. Didn’t I see these dudes panhandling on Dudley Street? What kind of lowlife motherfucker hits on black folks for free money?
There’s no honor in this. If they had money, it would be my people’s money. I got me way too many moral thoughts in my head, here. What went wrong?”

James had no qualms, and now offered the invader %30 percent of the action rather then the initial %10 percent.

It was Joe Judah who first spotted me standing seven feet in back of the dude who had a big dilemma. Then David saw me wearing the smile of a Buddha. When James took me in ‘The Padre’ the invader knew something was up. And he turned, quickly, because the hairs on his neck had stood up.

“Whaa! Shit, man! Where did you come from! I almost shot you!”

I had to suppress a real wide grin, because wearing the black robe of a priest, was affective. You can’t shoot a priest, especially if you are a bad guy. It’s the rule. Just like the rule you don’t open your door to strangers. What is with this long hair, dude. that looks like Jesus. Where did he get the robe? Why didn’t I hear him creep up on me? Does he have a gun? I’m a little spooked, here!”

I floated past the pointed finger hidden in the jacket, and sat cross-legged on the big cable spool we used as a table. I was in a Lotus position when I asked.

“What can we do for you. What is it you need to do before you leave?”

“Where did you come from?”
“I was in my room when you came in the door. I could have called the cops, but, I didn’t.”
“How do I know you didn’t call the cops?”
“There’s no way for you to know – for sure! Is there?
“Man! I almost shot you in the street when I tried to rob you the other day. You just ignored me, and kept walking.”
“That was you?” I responded.
“Aha! Aha! That be me!”
“Why don’t you shoot me now? Once again…….opportunity knocks!” I said with a big grin, because I refrained from saying;

“Is that gun in your pocket, or, are you just happy to see me!”

My roommates got my drift, let out a sigh of relief, and came unglued from the wall. There was a power shift, and everyone felt it. The Home Invader now had a new image of us. We were Padres with a tude. We were now Bad Hombres. But, who is this dude with that crazy look in his eye?

“Oh shit! I just held up the Manson Family – with no gun! What kind of moron am I!”

Perhaps, Mr. Homey Invader Man, you have come upon the Priory de Sion in America! Have you ever heard of Opus Dei?

Jon Presco

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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