The Reprobate knocked on the door of the tenement apartment. Bo opened the door. Before the Reprobate could walk inside, Bo stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.
“Shhh, I gotta talk t’ ya ‘bou’ somethin’. We’s both can make $250, easy like, real easy like. Is you carryin’ the pistol wit’cha?”
“What’cha got in mind? What’d’ya needin’ the gun for?”
“The Super in the building here’s been drinkin’ heavy an’ his wife’s gone an’ left ‘im.”
“What’cha gonna do, hold him up for the rent money?”
“No, no. He figgers that iffin’ he gets shot — like’n it was a hold up — then ‘is wife’ll feel sorry for ‘im and come on back. He’s lookin’ ta pay me $500 ta do it. I’ll split it witch’ya, iffin’ you len’s me the gun for the job.”
The Reprobate took a 32 caliber revolver out of his pocket.
“Here. Don’t forget, this ain’t a sale. I’m just rentin’ this out t’ya. I want it back.”
“Don’t worry. Don’t worry.”
– – –
The next day, the Reprobate knocked on the door of the tenement apartment. Bo opened the door and skipped out fast into the hall.
Shaking, Bo pulled the gun out from under his shirt.
“Here. Take it back.”
“Where’s the money? It’s been fired; a bullet’s missin’.”
“I got so edgy thinkin’ about shootin’ someone, first I took some valiums. I was aimin’ at his arm, tryin’ to fin’ like a sof’ spot. When I pulled the trigger, my han’ jumped and I woun’ dup missin’ ‘im all t’gedder and jus’ hittin’ the wall or the ceilin’ or somethin’. But I din’t know’t then, ’cause with the bang the goofus fai’ned and dropped to the floor. I thought I kill’t him an’ so’s I ran out.”
“Well, is he dead?”
“Nah, nah. I seen ‘im. He’s 100%, but he’s gone and got gun shy now and don’ wanna give’t a nudder try.”
The Reprobate thought that Bo had cheated him out of $250.
But, a few days later there was the Super mopping the floor, seemingly no worse for the wear and tear — except for dropping the mop and jumping about a foot in the air when the Reprobate said hello real loud
