Start a Riot

As soon as we turned the corner, I could see smoke everywhere: storefronts were on fire, people were running around with boatloads of merchandise in their hands, fighting, I mean, Monument Street was in total Manheim. All of Monument Street ablaze: it was like seeing something out of a movie; withal, uncle Bean spotted his friend, Smitty, running with the crowd; however, oddly enough, my uncle Bean seeing Smitty within that enormous crowd of people running. Furthermore, I knew that Smitty was an acquaintance from jail; he was his cell buddy from Jessup cut. Uncle Bean blew the horn as we came to an erupting stop: he came running and jumped in the front seat of my uncle's car while screaming, "Go, go, go." Just then, Smitty and an officer that was riding by locked eyes.

The copper in the cruiser started following us in uncle Bean's car; the cop was now gaining on us; Smitty then shouted at uncle Bean, "step on it." The boy in blue continued to pick up the pace.

Uncle Bean asked Smitty, "Why in the hell is he following us, man?"

" Just keep going, man," Smitty demanded: Smitty told uncle Bean that he was sure no cops were around when he dashed out of the pawnshop, on the corner of Monument and Collington, with his loot.

Looking out the back window of my uncle's brand new, Mystic blue, 1968 Pontiac Firebird, I could see the cop gaining on us.

Quickly, he turned down Patterson Park Avenue and drove through the park. Smitty told him to go towards the stables, but before uncle Bean reached the stables, he instructed me to "go inside the stable and hide, saying "stay put until Big Shirley comes for you: no matter what happens, you stay put and don't make a sound, do you understand?" I answered with a nod. As we came to a halt, a few feet away from the stable, I took off like a light. I ran as fast as I could, never looking back, but because of my size, trying to squeeze through the rusty chained-up gate on the abandoned Arab stables on Aliceanna Street was a challenge. I prayed to make it through the night when I heard the sound of the police cars arriving at the scene.

Once I got inside the stable, I peeked out the door to see what was going on: That's when I saw uncle Bean and Smitty laying down on the ground, on the side of my uncle's Firebird. I could hear the officer open his patrol car door. I watched him as he took his pistol out of the holster, he screamed, "come out with your hands up, or I will shoot."

That's when I saw Smitty dash off down towards Broadway. The copper began to shoot at Smitty as he bolted down the dimly lit street; meanwhile, uncle Bean came out from behind his vehicle and started shooting at the officer. My heart dropped in my pants when I saw the cop fall to the ground. Uncle Beam scurried away towards Bond Street. As soon as the cop hit the ground, I ran and hid inside a cart in the stable.

Dilapidated and empty, the stable appeared not to have been in use for a very long time. Inside, the stable was damp from yesterday's rain and smelled of rotten fruit. The only light inside the stable was the moonlight creeping inside due to a broken beam. I could barely see anything, no sign of life except for the rats. The stable appeared completely abandoned: except for a few broken-down wagons, and an old wheelbarrow that held the wooden beam that had recently fallen from the ceiling. Looking up from the wagon, I could see what appeared to be a bird's nest, located in the spot where the beam had fallen. I curled up in the corner of the broken wagon and laid deathly still until I was startled by the sound protruding from a nest.

Soon after, the car sped off; I could hear the sirens blaring.

I was so scared, but I knew I had to stay in the stable and wait. Those were Uncle Bean's direct instructions. Uncle Bean played no games, as he was a man of his word and didn't tolerate any bull shit.

Uncle Bean is my grandmother's oldest brother. He stood only five feet seven inches, with skin as black as the midnight sky, silky black hair that he wore like Melvin Franklin from the Temptations, and a voice like Berry White. All the ladies loved him, and being his favorite, I had the privilege of becoming acquainted with his harem. Waiting for Big Shirley seemed like a lifetime. I wasn't sure what time the riots started, nor did I know what time it was when uncle Bean instructed me to go in the stable.

The cop cars started to depart in what seemed like hours to an eleven-year-old, who just wanted a ride in her favorite uncle's new car. Staring at the night sky, through the crack in the side of the rooftop, created by the broken beam, I noticed a barn owl and her clutch of three owlets. Realizing, to build a solid foundation, one must first have a dream that uproots the world's idea of a nation.