He picked up the brick and looked at it for a moment not fully realizing what he was
suppose to do with it as if the object had fallen out of the sky itself and
needed to be understood. He knew this object. He knew what it was for but
couldn't imagine what he was about to do with it, then he heard the shouting in
his ear “you gonna throw that Joey or am I gonna have to hit you with it!” He
took a quick look at the store in front of him and threw the brick through the
window to the right of the front door, knowing that if he waited any longer he
he would've grown too anxious and wimped out. With the store window
open the other two men in all black jumped through the window after smashing
the glass around its edges so they would not cut themselves. Again he heard the
same voice yell at him “c'mon pipsqueak, you gonna bluff out on us? I swear I’ll
ring out your little neck.” This was his brother’s voice. He quickly followed
them into the store and started grabbing things. The only light in the whole
building was from one of their flashlights on the other side of the store. In
the darkness he could not see what he was grabbing and knocked over more things
than he actually got into his pillowcase. Then he heard the shouting
again.”Man, this place has everything. You finding anything Jack!” “Yea, I’m
seeing some nice merchandise! How about you little brother!” The words didn't
register at first, but he knew they were talking to him. Startled by the
hoarseness of his own voice he said back.”Uh, yea I think so.” “Well good! We need a
real score this time so don’t be screwing around boys!”

The sounds of glass breaking and boots squeaking on the floor continued as they grabbed everything without discriminating between items. A “Good score” by his brother’s definition was for each person to have two pillowcases full of stuff. One in your
hand and the other on your back. The looting continued for over 20 minutes
until the sounds of broken glass were subdued by a loud ringing and
another command from his brother. “Joey, c'mon.” Finally one that he agreed to.
He ran through the aisle up to the counter and tripped over chair that had been
used in the window display and the contents of one of his bags were emptied on
the floor back inside the store.
Quickly he got up, grabbed an armful of the
loot had lost and jumped over the window cutting his shoulder on a piece of
glass that his brother hadn't cleared from the window. He ran to the black
running car his accomplices were in, and got in the back seat. Being the youngest he wasn't allowed in the front. Over the sound of the alarm in the store, he could also
hear the sound of police sirens making their way towards their car. The car
made a slight jolt as he felt the car slip into first gear. The engine of the car whined as it left the scene of the crime behind. A slight rumble could be heard each time a gear was switched, a flaw that Mikey said just gave his car more character. Jack pointed out the flaw. “Did we hit a bump, or is this pile of junk gonna die on us again?” Mike looked over at Jack, shooting daggers at him. “When you want to drive, you can use any car you like Jack, but as far as i see it this pile of ---- would go a bit faster if we dumped you out on the side of the road. Dontcha think?: “Just get us outta here man!”
He saw Jack look
back at him. “You look a little shook up, you see a ghost in there or
something?” “No, he squeaked.” “What's that? I can barely hear you. Hey where’s
your other bag Joe?” “I dropped it in the store. It fell out of my hand when I
tripped.” “What? Do you have any idea how worthless you are, pipsqueak?” “Why
don't you lay off him, Jack, he’s just a kid.” “You know there's a reason you
don't bring kids into a gig like this. They get nervous and screw up.” “Shut it, I
said. Hey Joey, don't listen to this creep he’s just, hey are you bleeding on
the seat?” “Yea the window nicked my shoulder but I’m okay.” “You know
you're gonna have to shampoo these seats, punk!” “Sorry Mikey I’m
trying to get it on the pillowcases instead.” “That’s where the money is Joey,
hang your arm out the window for god’s sake!” For the rest of the drive he was
silent, listening to the usual bickering between his brother and Jack. This was
common whenever you had them together. Jack would point out a flaw in something of Mikes. Then Mike would say “It adds character.” Or something. At these times Joe
felt safer knowing he wasn't the topic of discussion and wouldn't have to add
to their conversation. When they arrived back to their apartment, they sorted
through their bags. The first two were Mike’s. These were filled with things you
could tell Mikey stole. A pile of cigarette cartons, hair grease, a couple of
shirts, and some other odds and ends along with the contents of the register.
Then, Jack’s bags. Some jewelry, cologne, more hair grease, cigars, and his
second bag filled almost exclusively with clothes. When Mikey asked, “What's
with all the rags?” Jack explained how he needed a few shirts and couldn't see
the sizes in the dark so he grabbed everything. “Now let’s take a look in your
bag little brother.” Joey dumped his bag on the floor and the other two ripped
it open to see what he had gotten. Then Mike looked at Joe with an angry look
on his face and said. “What part of the store were you in?” “I'm not sure Mikey
it was dark in there.” “Well there’s nothing in here besides ashtrays and
office supplies!” “I’m sorry Mikey I thought I should take some heavy stuff.” “That
does it Joey, Beat it!” Mike threw a crumpled up ten dollar bill at
Joey's forehead and it landed on the floor by his feet. Joey picked it up and
looked at Mike again. “Now you’re gonna have to find somewhere else to stay for
awhile since you think it’s funny to screw me and Jack over all the time! And I
don't wanna see you again until I need you, got it!?”
As Joey walked towards the
door he could hear Jack mutter loud enough so he could hear him on purpose.
“Looks like that won’t be for a while, Won't it Mike?” He walked out and thought of
slamming the door but when he tried to, it bounced back at him. Jack got up,
looked right into his eyes slammed it shut and locked it. Joe thought of the
robbery and his partners. He thought of how strange it was to be forced into
something, then punished when he did not perform as they demanded. He didn't like
stealing or crime. This was where he and his brother did not see eye
to eye. He thought of all the times where Mike would tell him he was always
trying to be the good kid, and that he was just a wimp. By the time he was done
thinking, he had reinforced all of the things he could think of. Without
completely realizing it, he had walked several blocks from the apartment complex
and didn't know where to go and decided to just keep walking. There were no
other people in the streets at this time, no noises or cars. It was like he was
on his own property, a place where nobody else was allowed. He started towards a gas
station sign that stood tall enough for him to see it from a few blocks. He
walked under the roof of the pump, laid down his jacket and fell asleep on it.
In the morning, he was woken up by a stray dog that was looking for garbage on
the ground. It barked at him several times, then looked at him for a moment, tilting his head. When Joe got curious enough he sat up against the pump and looked back at the dog, then at the building of the gas station. On the front door was a sign listing the hours. He read the hours for Sunday. “7:30am to 8:30pm. Then it must be early, or else someone would have kicked me out already.” When he stood up, the dog stepped back in a defensive position and he looked at it and smiled, thinking about how funny it was for the dog to react such a way to something humans understand so differently. He
slowly took steps towards the dog. He could see it become tense and back away
from him. He wished he could tell it he wasn't gonna hurt it, but he didn't think the
dog would truly understand him unless he showed it rather than just saying it.
He knelt down and reached out to it with his hand. The dog stopped and looked at his
hand and tilted his head slightly again. Then Joe said to it,
“hey there buddy.” The dog looked at his face and darted away under a hole
in a fence by the gas station. Joe tried not to let his feeling be hurt and
think of it from the dog’s perspective. But it didn't help, it suddenly felt
insulting to him that the dog couldn't trust him enough to interact with him.
And he started to get frustrated at the thought of appearing threatening to the dog.
He decided that thinking wasn't a very proactive pastime at this point, as he
was now homeless, stewing over a stray dog.