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

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 307
contention with, pulled a gun. A snub-nosed .38 revolver. Well, fuck me! Mom! Hey,
Mom? Now what? This spade‟s gonna blow the ass off your favorite kid! Mom! Hey,
Mom?
My car was at least thirty feet away. No chance to reach it, even without that
goddamned gun. I realized I was going to die, but it really didn‟t matter all that much to
me at that point in my life. Facing the problem I‟d brought on myself, I got out my razor
and prepared to do all the damage possible. I wanted to at least take the mouthy bastard
with me, and a couple of his buddies, if I could.
Still, I knew I‟d never survive something like this. It was impossible.
Then I heard a shell being jacked into the firing chamber and the sound of it
closing up. The black guy‟s expression told me almost as much as I saw when I turned to
look over my shoulder.
Jack had a round in his .45, which is a very damned big gun. It even looks like a
damned big gun. The .45 is a scary weapon. He also had four or five bikers with him, all
looking as if they‟d slit your throat for a quarter, maybe less. “Ya want us t‟ fuck „em up
for ya, Bill?” He kept the muzzle trained on the mouthy black guy.
“Not right away, Jack,” I told him as I put away my razor. “For right now, that
skinny nigger with the gun is all mine.”
“You c‟n kill „is ass, far‟s we care,” Jack opined. He moved the barrel once
again. “Drop that fuckin‟ peashooter or I‟ll blow yer black ass away.”
The black guy complied and I went after him. Since I had forty or fifty pounds on
him, I demolished the son-of-a-bitch in less than a minute. When I got to my feet I
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