I’m madder than the big fat policeman at the door door door who had to pull some shoplifter by the collar an make him pay a dollar over the fact that sometimes my eyes have to see things that I don’t necessarily want to witness, and then those things are burned in my memory forever, and nobody knows about it until I write it up for your reading pleasure.
Take for instance my last-minute Christmas shopping trip to the Staten Island Mall last week when I got to see some of New York’s Finest — and a bunch of Paul Blarts — in action when some poor sap was caught trying to lift a bottle of perfume for his sweet old mother.
Now, you don’t need to tell me that in this great country of our’s a person is innocent until proven guilty, but never in my life have I seen someone struggle so much to keep his god-given freedom.
But I’ll tell you this, he didn’t have a chance.
So there I was, minding everyone else’s business like I always do, sitting atop my trusty steed Tornado, waiting for the Access-A-Ride to do what it does best (take me places on the cheap), when I heard the commotion behind me.
To paint a picture in your mind like only I can, think of a running back trying to get through a line of defensemen at the Rose Bowl on the three-yard line!
I mean, this guy didn’t have a chance!
Especially when the skinniest of them all (I think he was the place kicker) joined in on the fray — as if his 87 pounds would make a difference!
For a while there I thought the robber was going to make a touchdown, because the plain-clothed cop was reaching for his Glock from his holster and yelling “Everyone clear the area!”
You would have thought he’d fired his weapon in the air (he didn’t), the way the throng of shoppers stampeded out the six doors.
Thankfully, I was able to load up onto the bus to high-tail it out of there as the robber was handcuffed, when I suddenly realized that my lovely wife Sharon was still inside doing what she does best — spending my money on a pair of velvet boots!
But she knew full well that she had to get outside or the train was going to leave the station without her (hey, she can take the regular bus! It goes to Brooklyn!), so she told the salesgirl to get this transaction done post haste, and wouldn’t you know it? It was over in 18 seconds! That’s gotta be a world record!
So as they were pulling the robber inside, Sharon was walking out oblivious to all the excitement that was going on.
So I says to her as she loads into the van, “Did you see what happened? That guy was about to pull his gun out.”
And she says “See what? Check out these new boots!”
So I told her she can read all about it in this week’s column.
Now let me see that receipt!
Screech at you next week!The least you could do is read Carmine every Sunday on BrooklynPaper.com. Then e-mail him at DiegoVega@aol.com!