Squatting In New Orleans

An Old Gunslinging Black Man

Time went on, and the number of kids squatting in the squat Robo, and Luke opened had grown to well over 40. Joker decided to open the mansion to deal with the overflow. Both squats had secret rooms now built into them along with secret entrance ways incase the police showed up. Which on occasion they would, looking for runaways.

Having that many kids all living on the streets together made it hard for Luke to spare change. There were just plain to many other kids to compete with now while out on the scene. He needed a new gig, and he needed it real bad. You see by now Luke was damn near starving to death, and living off of donuts a convenience store called the Circle K threw away. Then a turn of events had taken place. It all started the night Luke met an old gunslinging black man, named Stanley.

"I'm here to take your money kid, because you know I can?!" "Right?!" Stanley said while holding a chrome revolver to Luke's head.

"Hold on mister, your robbing the wrong guy; look at my duct tapped boots, and these rags I wear." "All I have in my pocket is two dollars, and a whole lot of sand." "Your welcome to it, and believe me when I say I wish it were a grand, I could place in your hand." "I'm no better than you, except I'd rather beg for my bread than steal, on top of that I never know where I'm gonna get my next meal." Luke thought quick to say, as Stanley fell to his knees, to cry and pray.

A moment went buy leaving Luke not knowing what to do. Then the old gunslinger jumped to his feet, and over Luke he began to veer. He looked Luke dead in the eye, and asked, "Tell me boy, why do we always see black on black crime, and never any white on white?" Luke thought quick to say, "We do see white on white crime only it's brought about under a different light." "White people kill each other slowly while hiding behind a smile." "Their not so upfront or blunt when it comes to breaking the law against one another." "A white man would rather steal his brothers wife, then take his life, in order to torture the mans mind, body, and soul, without the law gaining any form of control." What Luke had to say captured Stanley's attention, and for a white guy Stanley decided Luke was o.k.

"So tell me, what's your name white boy?" Stanley asks with a half a shit eating grin on his face.

"My names Luke, the other kids around here call me Duke, you can call me either or if you like."

"Well cool hand Luke The Duke, tonight you got lucky." "You know I've shot, and killed folks for less then the two dollars you got, right here at this very spot your standing." "By the grace of God I just plain didn't feel like shooting anyone tonight, even though I held you up at gun point." Stanley said, now hiding his gun in his pants, making Luke feel a little more comfortable. The two of them were standing on a path that ran down the middle of Esplanade boulevard right out front of the squat. Luke nearly lost his breath as Stanley confessed to him about shooting others dead in the very spot in which they stood. He then said to Stanley, "Thanks for sparring my life, is there anything I can do for you outside the realm of giving you my last two bucks?"

Stanley was quick to reply "Well yes there is, I could use a partner while I go do my rounds."

"What do I have to do on your rounds?"

"I need you to help me do some thieving at a motel up the road." "But first things first, we gotta strong arm us some cigarettes at the gas station on the corner over there." Stanley points to the gas station then the two of them walk up to it.

"Hay how about a pack of Newport's on the house." Stanley said to the clerk sitting behind bullet proof glass.

"Sorry no cigarettes without paying first." The Clerk says sounding a little nervous.

Then Stanley pulled out his gun, and began tapping it on the glass while saying, "I know when your shift ends, you better give me the newports now, rather than deal with me later." The clerk became even more nervous, and began fluttering around inside the gas station.