BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 285
my first name, Bill. He looked it over closely, pretending he could read, and said he‟d be
back later. Karen and I messed around in various ways until sometime after six, when I
kissed her good-bye and went home to get some sleep.
Three days later, Coochy pulls into Wahl‟s Standard in a big Cadillac, about ten
years old, but not too rusted. He accused me of writing him a bogus cheque. Can you
believe that? No honor among thieves, it seems.
I told him to stick it up his ass and consider he was getting the same thing I got
from Karen. Fucked. Not the way he wanted it, but he was getting fucked.
It was what he did next that caused me to later coin an expression: “The baddest
guy in town might be only five-two, but he carries a .45 in his pants.” Coochy had one, a
.45 semiautomatic, and he hauled it out. It was a very big gun, far, far too big for a runty
little bastard like him. I knocked him on his ass with a right cross before he could even
jack a shell in the chamber, then took the gun away. I promised to use it on his scrawny
ass if he ever bothered me again, and told him to get his black ass out of there before I
shot him.
All mouth and no balls, Coochy did as instructed. Then, because I didn‟t want a
gun that big, and I had no idea what crimes it might‟ve been connected with, I called the
cops and reported an attempted robbery. I made up a story about how I disarmed an
armed robber and gave them the weapon.
I never heard from the cops, or Coochy, again. Sadly, I also never heard from
Karen, and she was damned good at her work.
Then there was the armed robbery. The one I didn‟t report.
It was late afternoon, around five-thirty, when a black guy in a dark slacks and a
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