Why I shot the guy in the head

He was asking for it. Read my story and you’ll see what I mean.

I was on this dark street when the guy comes out of a bank vestibule. I knew he must have been getting cash because it was late at night and there’d be no other reason to go to the bank. So I walked up to him and stuck my pistol against his ear.

“This is a stickup,” I said. “Give me your wallet.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t ask me any stupid questions. Just give me your wallet. I want the money in it.”

“That money is to take care of my family,” he said. “I can’t give you the money.”

“I don’t care about that,” I said, “I want your damn money, so give me your damn wallet.”

“But if you take my money, my family won’t eat,” he said. “My family will starve, so I can’t give you the money.”

“What is it about a gun barrel in your ear that you don’t understand?” I said. “Give me your money. And your wallet.”

“This is very foolish,” he said. “If you shoot me, the cops will come after you. They’ll arrest you. They’ll throw you in prison for the rest of your life. You could maybe even face the death penalty”

“That’s baloney,” I said. “The cops are on my side. The judges, the prosecutor, everybody is on my side. And they all hate you. I happen to know this, from friends of mine who get around. The fine people of this city are fed up with you.”

“Where did you get that crazy idea?” he said. “Nevemind. Just forget about taking my stuff. I’m not going to do it.”

“You’d better do it. I’m sick of you. Everybody’s sick of you. Give me your wallet.”

“ I just can’t give my family’s money away to some guy just because he walks up to me and demands it. And if you shoot me, you’re going away to prison for the rest of your life.”

I thought about that for a couple of seconds. Maybe he had a point.

“Okay then,” I said. “Then let’s negotiate.”

“Negotiate what?”

“Let’s negotiate you give me the money so that I don’t shoot you dead.”

“There’s nothing to negotiate,” he said. “I can’t sacrifice my family’s future.”

“I'm trying to be reasonable,” I said. “I’m trying to negotiate.” I cocked the hammer of the pistol. It made a click. “Don’t piss me off. I’m offering very nicely to negotiate with you.”

“No negotiations. And if you shoot me in the head, you’re in prison for the rest of your life. Maybe you even go to the death chamber and they will stick a needle in your veins and zap you.”

Holy crap! This guy was scary. I don’t like to admit it, but he was scaring me.

“Okay then, but you can’t just walk away,” I said.

“What are you talking about?” he said.

“Well, even if I don’t get your money, I have to get something out of this.”

“Like what?” he said.

“I dunno,” I said, “But I want something out of this, even if I don’t know what it is yet.”

“This is nuts,” he said. "You're getting to sound like a psychopath."

“Okay then, here’s what I want. I want your credit and debit card. And the deed to your house. Oh, and also all the money in your wallet. Plus the wallet.”

“I told you, I can’t give you that,” he said. “Also, that’s not even negotiating.”

“You’re refusing to talk,” I said.

“I’m talking a mile a minute. Negotiating is when you give up something to get part of what you want. Your idea of negotiating is to insist on getting everything you asked for in the first place, and then ask for more on top of it. ”

“Also I want your car and I want sex with your wife,” I said. I'm glad I just remembered to ask for that.

“I told you, I’m not negotiating,” he said.

So that’s when I pulled the trigger and blew his brains out. I don’t know why everybody turned against me over this – the cops, and the prosecutor and the jury and the judge and everybody. I know they’re really on my side. I have it on good authority. I have good friends who told me. Besides, like I said, the guy was asking for it. He refused to negotiate.

For my last meal I’d like a sirloin steak, rare, and French fries with ketchup and three scoops of Rocky Road ice cream with chocolate sauce on top. Oh, and I still want the guy’s wallet. And his house and his car and his wife.

Cross posted at The New York Crank