CLXXll

The Bayonet

     Anyway, some days before, Dick found an old WWII bayonet in the park. He sharpened it, cleaned it up, nice and shinny, and started carrying it around. He had in the back, under his belt, and with his baseball jacket over it, nobody could see it. So as we walked to the park he pulled it out, and started cleaning his finger nails with it.

      “Is ya crazy, put dat damned thing way, man.”

      “Make me!”

     So James walked on ahead of him, because Dick looked like he was stupid enough to stick it into him. We kept walking, and after a moment or so, Dick says,

    “Hey guys lemme bum a smoke, uh?”

    “Sho, foist ya wanna sticks me witcha knife, an na ya wanna smoke, uh?”

    “Why dontcha buy some?” Joe asked.

    “I don’t gots no cash, man.”

    “Yea, ya neva gots no money!”

    “Yea man, why donya puts dat blade ta good use?”

    “How?”

     A few yellow cabs passed by, there weren’t any other kind back then. One hundred and forty ninth street was, and still is a very busy street. It runs from the Harlem River on the west, to the East River, river to river across the Bronx. So, jokingly James suggested,

     “Git ina cab an takes his money dude!”

     “Yea sho man…like he gots da balls tadoodit, uh!” Joe cracked up.

     We followed suit, and all of a sudden we’re all ranking on him. So he walked on ahead, and when he reached the corner, at St. Ann’s Avenue he just stood there, looking back at us. I remember him smiling when he hailed the cab.