Compton Tales-The Desert Eagle

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Compton Tales-The Desert Eagle

Status: Finished

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Compton Tales-The Desert Eagle Compton Tales-The Desert Eagle

Short Story by: Steven Hunley

Genre: Action and Adventure

Houses:

Short Story by: Steven Hunley

Details

Genre: Action and Adventure

Houses:

Summary

Gansters in Compton steal a mighty big pistol and bite off more than they can chew.

Summary

Gansters in Compton steal a mighty big pistol and bite off more than they can chew.

Content

Submitted: February 20, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: February 20, 2012

A A A

A A A


Compton Tales--The Desert Eagle

 

by Steven Hunley

 

“Don't... tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it. Not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo. I would use this ring from a desire to do good... But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.”

 

The Desert Eagle was black and huge and terribly terribly dangerous. Two members of Lime Street Hood that hung out in apartment thirteen had temporary possession. They came upon the monster while ‘doing their thing,’ robbing a house of an entire gun collection, a prime example of  Barrio Compton expensive blue-steel thievery. 

 

Cops couldn’t use it, too big, too ugly, too large to be concealed. Even gangsters shied away for the same reasons. Not so much a handgun, the thing was more like a cannon. The Big 50. Yet it was too valuable to toss, near eighteen-hundred big ones new.

 

So they gave it to Mickey to hide.

 

“Look, Pops, a desert eagle.”

 

Pop’s eyes,which had previously been pinned, dilated like cheap black rubber balloons heading skyward. Kinda like his mind. He put out his hand palmup to fondle the monster.

 

How much did the sucker weigh?  Plenty. Death can be heavy.

 

“I’m hiding it out for the guys in Lime Hood.”

 

“Well, hide it out good,” said Pops and went back to his nod. His chin  returned to his chest and got stuck. Moms insisted Mickey return the enormous hand gun post haste.

 

Two days later the story was this:

 

One Lime Hoodie was in apartment thirteen, sleeping.  It was about 5AM. The other was out on the street speeding his guts out. A black and white rolled by and rattled his cage just by their presence.  Like a shot, he broke cover and ran for the apartment straight up the stairs alerting everyone the cops were on their way. The two gangsters peered out the window in terror. The cops pulled up to the curb, hot on his trail. It was almost time for a shift change, and they knew with all the paperwork that would have to be done if they made an arrest, they were sure to get overtime.

 

Precious overtime, oh goody.

 

Like Cambodian donut shops in Compton, cops can smell overtime a mile way. They climbed  the stairs to the apartment slowly and methodically, like Sir Edmond Hillary climbing Everest.

 

The two members of Lime Hood panicked.

 

One flew into bed with a woman sleeping there and pretended  he was out cold. He pulled the blankets up to cover his clothes. He was the smart one.

 

The other found the eagle in its hidden nest in the kitchen cupboard and tossed it out the window to get rid of the evidence. He was the dumb one.

 

He forgot the Eagle didn’t fly. The gun hit the sidewalk with a slam that sounded like 911, and shook the California earth with a violent vibration about eight on the Richter scale.

 

The coppers couldn’t help but take notice.

 

When you toss something away you automatically lose your search and seizure rights. You might as well be throwing yourself in jail and save them from reciting the Miranda act.

 

They walked into the house real official-like and alert.

 

Lime Hood was about to give an academy award performance.

 

Hats off coppers, you’re in for a show.

 

The smart one was good at looking Sleepy. He’d seen Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs seven times. They had to touch his shoulder to ‘wake him up.’

 

The dumb one wasn’t as good a thespian.  The only dwarf he could imitate was Dopey.

 

They took him by the hand, walked him down the stairs, and placed him gently in the rear seat of their Crown Victoria to give him a ride downtown. To keep him from bolting, a pair of shiny chromium bracelets to grace his wrists as a fashion accessory.

 

And who said coppers couldn’t be fashionable?

 

The Desert Eagle disappeared from the evidence room two weeks later.  Some cop was a collector. Others say it never made it downtown, much less to the evidence room. Men of justice, like mercenary soldiers, often divide up the spoils. That gave them their own problems.  Just like Frodo and Gandalf.

 

Take it!

 

Gandalf: No, Frodo.

 

Frodo: You must take it!

 

Gandalf: You cannot offer me this ring!

 

Frodo: I'm giving it to you!

 

Gandalf: Don't... tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it. Not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo. I would use this ring from a desire to do good... But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.

 

Tolkein was probably right.

 

Look at the trouble it gave Lime Hood, because it was a power too great and terrible to imagine.

 

That’s why I’d never have a nine, a gat, a heater, a piece, a pocket rocket, a roscoe, a strap, in my house.

 

Too dangerous.  Too peligroso for words.

 

©Steven Hunley2011

Compton Tales--The Desert Eagle

 

by Steven Hunley

 

“Don't... tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it. Not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo. I would use this ring from a desire to do good... But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.”

 

The Desert Eagle was black and huge and terribly terribly dangerous. Two members of Lime Street Hood that hung out in apartment thirteen had temporary possession. They came upon the monster while ‘doing their thing,’ robbing a house of an entire gun collection, a prime example of  Barrio Compton expensive blue-steel thievery. 

 

Cops couldn’t use it, too big, too ugly, too large to be concealed. Even gangsters shied away for the same reasons. Not so much a handgun, the thing was more like a cannon. The Big 50. Yet it was too valuable to toss, near eighteen-hundred big ones new.

 

So they gave it to Mickey to hide.

 

“Look, Pops, a desert eagle.”

 

Pop’s eyes,which had previously been pinned, dilated like cheap black rubber balloons heading skyward. Kinda like his mind. He put out his hand palmup to fondle the monster.

 

How much did the sucker weigh?  Plenty. Death can be heavy.

 

“I’m hiding it out for the guys in Lime Hood.”

 

“Well, hide it out good,” said Pops and went back to his nod. His chin  returned to his chest and got stuck. Moms insisted Mickey return the enormous hand gun post haste.

 

Two days later the story was this:

 

One Lime Hoodie was in apartment thirteen, sleeping.  It was about 5AM. The other was out on the street speeding his guts out. A black and white rolled by and rattled his cage just by their presence.  Like a shot, he broke cover and ran for the apartment straight up the stairs alerting everyone the cops were on their way. The two gangsters peered out the window in terror. The cops pulled up to the curb, hot on his trail. It was almost time for a shift change, and they knew with all the paperwork that would have to be done if they made an arrest, they were sure to get overtime.

 

Precious overtime, oh goody.

 

Like Cambodian donut shops in Compton, cops can smell overtime a mile way. They climbed  the stairs to the apartment slowly and methodically, like Sir Edmond Hillary climbing Everest.

 

The two members of Lime Hood panicked.

 

One flew into bed with a woman sleeping there and pretended  he was out cold. He pulled the blankets up to cover his clothes. He was the smart one.

 

The other found the eagle in its hidden nest in the kitchen cupboard and tossed it out the window to get rid of the evidence. He was the dumb one.

 

He forgot the Eagle didn’t fly. The gun hit the sidewalk with a slam that sounded like 911, and shook the California earth with a violent vibration about eight on the Richter scale.

 

The coppers couldn’t help but take notice.

 

When you toss something away you automatically lose your search and seizure rights. You might as well be throwing yourself in jail and save them from reciting the Miranda act.

 

They walked into the house real official-like and alert.

 

Lime Hood was about to give an academy award performance.

 

Hats off coppers, you’re in for a show.

 

The smart one was good at looking Sleepy. He’d seen Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs seven times. They had to touch his shoulder to ‘wake him up.’

 

The dumb one wasn’t as good a thespian.  The only dwarf he could imitate was Dopey.

 

They took him by the hand, walked him down the stairs, and placed him gently in the rear seat of their Crown Victoria to give him a ride downtown. To keep him from bolting, a pair of shiny chromium bracelets to grace his wrists as a fashion accessory.

 

And who said coppers couldn’t be fashionable?

 

The Desert Eagle disappeared from the evidence room two weeks later.  Some cop was a collector. Others say it never made it downtown, much less to the evidence room. Men of justice, like mercenary soldiers, often divide up the spoils. That gave them their own problems.  Just like Frodo and Gandalf.

 

Take it!

 

Gandalf: No, Frodo.

 

Frodo: You must take it!

 

Gandalf: You cannot offer me this ring!

 

Frodo: I'm giving it to you!

 

Gandalf: Don't... tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it. Not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo. I would use this ring from a desire to do good... But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.

 

Tolkein was probably right.

 

Look at the trouble it gave Lime Hood, because it was a power too great and terrible to imagine.

 

That’s why I’d never have a nine, a gat, a heater, a piece, a pocket rocket, a roscoe, a strap, in my house.

 

Too dangerous.  Too peligroso for words.

 

©Steven Hunley2011

Compton Tales--The Desert Eagle

 

by Steven Hunley

 

“Don't... tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it. Not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo. I would use this ring from a desire to do good... But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.”

 

The Desert Eagle was black and huge and terribly terribly dangerous. Two members of Lime Street Hood that hung out in apartment thirteen had temporary possession. They came upon the monster while ‘doing their thing,’ robbing a house of an entire gun collection, a prime example of  Barrio Compton expensive blue-steel thievery. 

 

Cops couldn’t use it, too big, too ugly, too large to be concealed. Even gangsters shied away for the same reasons. Not so much a handgun, the thing was more like a cannon. The Big 50. Yet it was too valuable to toss, near eighteen-hundred big ones new.

 

So they gave it to Mickey to hide.

 

“Look, Pops, a desert eagle.”

 

Pop’s eyes,which had previously been pinned, dilated like cheap black rubber balloons heading skyward. Kinda like his mind. He put out his hand palmup to fondle the monster.

 

How much did the sucker weigh?  Plenty. Death can be heavy.

 

“I’m hiding it out for the guys in Lime Hood.”

 

“Well, hide it out good,” said Pops and went back to his nod. His chin  returned to his chest and got stuck. Moms insisted Mickey return the enormous hand gun post haste.

 

Two days later the story was this:

 

One Lime Hoodie was in apartment thirteen, sleeping.  It was about 5AM. The other was out on the street speeding his guts out. A black and white rolled by and rattled his cage just by their presence.  Like a shot, he broke cover and ran for the apartment straight up the stairs alerting everyone the cops were on their way. The two gangsters peered out the window in terror. The cops pulled up to the curb, hot on his trail. It was almost time for a shift change, and they knew with all the paperwork that would have to be done if they made an arrest, they were sure to get overtime.

 

Precious overtime, oh goody.

 

Like Cambodian donut shops in Compton, cops can smell overtime a mile way. They climbed  the stairs to the apartment slowly and methodically, like Sir Edmond Hillary climbing Everest.

 

The two members of Lime Hood panicked.

 

One flew into bed with a woman sleeping there and pretended  he was out cold. He pulled the blankets up to cover his clothes. He was the smart one.

 

The other found the eagle in its hidden nest in the kitchen cupboard and tossed it out the window to get rid of the evidence. He was the dumb one.

 

He forgot the Eagle didn’t fly. The gun hit the sidewalk with a slam that sounded like 911, and shook the California earth with a violent vibration about eight on the Richter scale.

 

The coppers couldn’t help but take notice.

 

When you toss something away you automatically lose your search and seizure rights. You might as well be throwing yourself in jail and save them from reciting the Miranda act.

 

They walked into the house real official-like and alert.

 

Lime Hood was about to give an academy award performance.

 

Hats off coppers, you’re in for a show.

 

The smart one was good at looking Sleepy. He’d seen Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs seven times. They had to touch his shoulder to ‘wake him up.’

 

The dumb one wasn’t as good a thespian.  The only dwarf he could imitate was Dopey.

 

They took him by the hand, walked him down the stairs, and placed him gently in the rear seat of their Crown Victoria to give him a ride downtown. To keep him from bolting, a pair of shiny chromium bracelets to grace his wrists as a fashion accessory.

 

And who said coppers couldn’t be fashionable?

 

The Desert Eagle disappeared from the evidence room two weeks later.  Some cop was a collector. Others say it never made it downtown, much less to the evidence room. Men of justice, like mercenary soldiers, often divide up the spoils. That gave them their own problems.  Just like Frodo and Gandalf.

 

Take it!

 

Gandalf: No, Frodo.

 

Frodo: You must take it!

 

Gandalf: You cannot offer me this ring!

 

Frodo: I'm giving it to you!

 

Gandalf: Don't... tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it. Not even to keep it safe. Understand, Frodo. I would use this ring from a desire to do good... But through me, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.

 

Tolkein was probably right.

 

Look at the trouble it gave Lime Hood, because it was a power too great and terrible to imagine.

 

That’s why I’d never have a nine, a gat, a heater, a piece, a pocket rocket, a roscoe, a strap, in my house.

 

Too dangerous.  Too peligroso for words.

 

©Steven Hunley2011

 


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