I was thirty years old by the time anyone pointed me out- said ‘hey, what about this guy?’- for my performance at work. Mind you, I’ve only ever had two jobs. One was a bodega guy, and the other was (is) petty theft and selling drugs. The ladder fucked up the former. But it’s sort of a good thing, because even casual crime, the kind that happens so much that no one really bats an eye to see it happen, pays better than a bodega gig. And what they don’t tell you is that it’s
easy if you’re not worried about it. I mean, I hammered out the routine in highschool, and the only time it served me wrong was when it got me in jail for 8 years.
Not that I remember any of it. Doctor said that's my fault.
Got out five months ago. Cheers.
I was vaguely aware at the time that there are criminal masterminds in New York. I’d never run into any of those in my life because I was barely good enough for the Jawbreakers- cops, fuzz, heat, etc.- to come knocking. Now that I was out on parole, the Jawbreakers still failed to take notice- they sat back and waited for someone to say I did something so they could put me back.
So picture:
Getting into my apartment after a long day of sitting on the steps of a laundromat, half a cheeseburger in hand, there’s a letter for me on my table. My one table, in front of the old 10” TV. Doors were triple locked, no windows to speak of, nothing else seemed out of place. I eat the cheeseburger before I open the letter because I’m fully expecting it to be a bomb. Thankfully, my parents named me Lucky, thus predisposing me to a certain avoidance to things like that.
In the letter is a floppy disk. I figure if it wasn’t a bomb it probably isn't a virus. Jawbreakers don’t do songs and dances like this if they want to do something to you- so it's not them either. I put it in the computer and boot it up.
…Hello Lucky Burne…
Full real name. Interesting.
You have been chosen by Maximum Thought for participation in a large score. You will be getting 1 / 6 of the profits. If you’re interested, there’s a meeting tomorrow at 8:47pm, at
And it says an address in Brooklyn- I’m in Queens but, you know, it’s not Staten Island. So I’m there.
The nature of the job will be obscured to each individual who participates. All you will have to do is follow our instructions exactly. The less you know, the safer you are.
‘Safer’? High stakes? Weird, but you know what? Sure. A gig is a gig.