The Lone Eagle
I was about a block away when suddenly I made a left and drove the car around the block, returning to the scene of Peg-Leg's wrecked car and the four bad black men. I came up behind them. They were standing there staring in the direction I had driven away.
I honked and they turned around.
I'll never forget the expression on their faces when they saw me. The three unwounded men had picked up their razors again. When they saw me the razors dropped effortlessly out of their hands and back down onto the street that was rapidly becoming their home. It seemed at this point impossible for those razors ever to make stew meat again or even come up with a shave.
They had seen their day.
The black man with the bullet hole in his leg flashed me a huge smile when he saw me. "Shit!" he said. "It's Stew Meat again. What happened this time? You come back for our pants?"
The other three black men thought that was pretty funny and they started laughing. It was pretty funny. I couldn't help from smiling myself. Except for their wanting to carve me up, these were good guys.
"No, keep your pants," I said.
"You Santa Claus," Smile said.
"Who paid you to get this body from me?" I said. "That's all I want to know."
"Why didn't you say so?" Smile said. "Shit! that's an easy one. A guy with a neck like a trunk and a flashy white doll who drank beer but didn't go piss. Where'd she put all that beer? Them da boss, but you da boss now."
"Thanks," I said.
"Shit, Stew Meat," Smile said. "Anytime, but don't shoot me no more. I'm getting too old for bullets. You don't need any partners, do ya?"
"No," I said. "I'm a lone eagle."
This time they all waved as I drove off in their car.