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

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 286
black leather coat came into the station. It was early fall and getting colder each day. I
was behind the register while the guy working with me tended to the customers on the
drive. I‟d only go out if he got behind, since I was the manager.
The black guy had his right hand in the outside pocket of his coat, on the side. He
thrust his coat forward and said, “This‟s a fuckin‟ rob‟ry, mothafuckah, gimme all yo‟
fuckin‟ cash!”
I‟d somehow suspected he was up to no good when he came in, so the drawer to
the till was already open. He couldn‟t see it, or my hands, so I quietly pulled it open and
reached in past the bills. My hands clasped a .32 semiautomatic Jim kept in the drawer
and I freed the safety with my thumb before raising the weapon.
“Yeah, motherfucker, but my shit‟s out, and I can‟t even see your fuckin‟ piece!”
His eyes grew huge! He was horrified.
I told him, as I came around the counter with my weapon aimed between his eyes,
“You even move, motherfucker, there‟s gonna be one more dead nigger than you see
right now!” My hand went in his pocket and found a Smith & Wesson .38, an older gun,
worn but well kept. I took it and slipped it into the back of my pants. “Now, nigger, you
give me your fuckin’ money, or I‟ll just blow your skinny ass away and call the fuckin‟
cops to remove your dead ass from the building.”
He had less than forty dollars on him, so it was more the thrill of me being able to
turn the tables on this asshole that made me feel so good. After I took his money, I said
he had until the count of ten before I shot his skinny ass. He took off running and never
looked back. I never heard from him again, but I did get a hundred by selling the gun.
There was one other episode at Wahl‟s I feel is worth mentioning to you. It
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