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| Its Not Bad Being a Babysitter | Started by: Serafina_Pekkala on Apr 14, '08 22:52 |
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Her eyes slowly opened, wincing at the throbbing pain she looked around wearily. The smell of rotting food stung her nose and made her feel nauseous. Taking in the dark alley littered with bags of trash, the rats fighting over the scraps from an Italian cookery, and the homeless fighting for shelter from the cool night ahead. Standing up she brushed her hair from her face, wincing in pain as she did. Pulling her hand away she looked at it in the glow thrown from the open kitchen door of the nearby restaurant. Blood. Her hand had blood on it. How did this happen? She tried to remember the day's events and could only recall the voice of a new immigrant asking for some change after leaving her favorite bakery. She reached for her handbag to find it gone along with the cookies she had purchased for her dear old grandfather. Yet another day's earnings out the window to some hapless mugger with no respect and even less of a future if she got her hands on him since a woman in her line of work could not go to the police about the crime. She did not lead a glamorous life. Most of her earnings were paid in tribute to her boss or given to those in need. She did have a bit of a gambling problem and cursed the blackjack tables on a daily basis as she walked away from them. Unlike most of her friends she had not hired any bodyguards to protect her, her concern laid with her boss' safety. A life of crime is all she had ever known. It is all her parents had ever taught her. Making her way through the alley, being careful not to look anyone she did not know in the eye, she found herself on Main Street. It was nearly dark now. How long she had been in that alley she did not know. Her goal was to get home and shower before having to go to work in her boss' warehouse sorting the latest delivery of whisky from Canada. She had made it a half block from the alley when an obviously new immigrant stopped her and asked if she knew what would be a good price to buy marijuana at. Not wanting to attract any attention she invited the youngster to walk with her. She explained that it wasn't always a smart thing to do asking about drugs in public that there was always the chance and that a copper or snitch could be waiting to collar them. He introduced himself as Joey Montecristo. Feeling exhaustion sweep over her she invited the young man to sit down with her on a bench. While she rested she shared parts of her life story and lessons she had learned along the way. Hopefully imparting some of what she knew and saving the youngster unneeded grief. When he asked her about the dangers of mugging and wacking she sighed heavily. Why did it always boil down to violence? She started to explain that attacking other people while sponsored or unsponsored would usually end up in death. In very rare cases were these crimes resolved with a different outcome so to do so knowing what the outcome would be. To her surprise the youth looked at her with questioning eyes when she mentioned being sponsored. He didn't seem to know what she was talking about. Sensing that one of the only ways she could prevent his early demise was to instruct him to find himself a sponsor she told him that he should contact one of the leaders in the community. The suits they wore easily identified them. She also showed him a list of people she knew to be leaders. She told him to speak to those with fewer than 50 members as those were the people with room in their headquarters and were more prone to accepting new people into their business. These were the families where there was more room for advancement as they were still growing and establishing themselves. Remembering her friend had handed her a Kendra's Guide to 48 Hour Survival written to help new members of the criminal society they belonged to she reached into her pocket and placed it into the young man's hands whispering loud enough for him to hear, "This will help you. It is something my dear friend wrote a while ago. I know it has helped several new to this thing of ours." Feeling rested she stood up and bid the youngster goodbye, wishing him luck in his adventures. As she turned to look back she saw him scamper off, smiling to herself she hoped she had gotten through to him. Moments later she heard a woman's scream followed by the yelling of police officers in pursuit of the boy. Laughing to herself she carried on walking slowly to her home. As she arrived a few moments later she saw the youth running into an alley, the police officers nowhere to be found. Again, she smiled to herself and laughed remembering the first time she was nearly nabbed. She had gained a bit of joy from helping the boy out rather than ignoring his unfamiliarity to this life of crime she had come to accept as being normal and acceptable. Later that evening she returned home to find an envelope on her door. With curiosity she opened the envelope and found a substantial amount of money and a note that read: I just wanted to say thank you for all your help earlier this evening. Without your words of advice I could not have found a boss and made this money. Thank you so much. With regards, Joey Smiling to herself she pocketed the cash and tucked the note into her pocket and stepped through the door. Today had been a good day after all. |
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She steps forward after reading her story and tries to smile. I'd just like to make something clear. My story's title is not a stab at any individual or group of people. It is simply the best I could come up with for it. I really had an issue with "title block" today. To those who take this story and its title as a personal stab, rocking the boat, stepping on toes, or whatever other comparison you wish to make, please don't. This story is nothing more than an attempt to encourage others to help those new to our shores. It's nothing more than showing the new members of our society that there are people out there willing to help them find their way through things. Maybe a better title would have been "A Helping Hand", I don't know. Regardless, it was not an attempt to hurt, slander, or anger anyone.. It's just the title I came up with on the fly. I SINCERELY apologize to those who think it was. Contrary to popular belief I am not here to plot, plan, and hurt this thing of ours. I'm just trying to do my bit to help and have fun. I have missed being an active voice in our community and was hoping that this would be a good first step to make given the flood off immigrants filing off the boats. |
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| Reply by: Serafina_Pekkala at Apr 14, '08 23:30 | |
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I'm surprised anyone took offense, people can get away with saying virtually anything in the streets these days anyway. A fine tale, an honest helping hand can go a long way. |
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| Reply by: Numbers4Glory at Apr 15, '08 06:45 | |
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Sometimes one needs a helping hand when old as well as young actually... Perhaps an OAPs guide to criminal activity would be nice as well. Serafina, can you help? |
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| Reply by: PrinceofCheese at Apr 15, '08 10:05 | |
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| Doesn't look like she can, since she's dead. RIP :( | |
| Reply by: Whatever at Apr 15, '08 12:50 | |
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