I’ve been up working on my art through Christmas Eve and the entire night.

It’s now early morning Christmas Day.

I am an atheist, so I don’t celebrate the holiday.

At about 3:30am I went out to Han’s Deli on Broadway and Bleecker St.

to get a snack to eat. I knew Han’s Deli would be open on Christmas.

They are always open! While walking East on the south side of Bleecker back to my studio, I was approached by a man between Mulberry and Mott Streets. He was a Caucasian man, slightly taller than I, with a black haired mustache. He had dark green pants and white sneakers, Nike to be exact. His jacket was quite puffy, unsure of the brand, but it was black, or a really dark shade of midnight blue.

 

The man approached rather quickly. He didn’t surprise me, because I am well aware of my surroundings. After all, they call me a Bad Ass Mother Fucker. (well, that’s what I call myself when walking the streets of New York City) I saw the man was on the same side of the street as me. I had a plastic bag in one hand, which had some cookies and a Hershey’s chocolate milk in it. (That was my snack.) As we approached each other even closer, that’s when I knew something might happen. It was in my gut I guess.

 

I’ve always waited for the day for this to happen. It finally did. We walk closer and closer to each other, he going West, I going East. In the final moments in our head on collision, his eyes meet mine and he deliberately pushes his shoulder in mine, causing me to drop the plastic bag and stumble into the wall. He grabs my arm and pushes me against the wall, with his other hand he pulls out a gun from his right front jacket pocket.

 

Confronted with a gun just blocks from my studio is where I am at 3:30am on Christmas Day. He demands money, with the actual classic phrase “Give me your money!” Although it actually sounded like “Gimme Yoh Money!”

 

Again, I’ve always waited for this day. I always knew that I would never give up my money for someone. It’s mine. And my theory was always ‘to say no, and if they wanted it, they would have to kill me for it’ I responded with “No.” The man looks puzzled in disbelief, and in that split moment I just took my right hand, brought it up as quickly as possible and knocked that gun right out of his grasp! The gun went flying in the air (more in a sideways motion). I saw the silver piece shine in the street lamp’s light and it hit the wintery concrete side walk. All this happened extremely quickly in a matter of seconds. I seized my opportunity to run. And run I did.

 

But I discovered something I knew already. Humans can’t out run bullets. As I ran down Bleecker St, only a few yards now away from the man. He fires his gun, probably more out of rage, then out of determination to get my money. I hear a ‘BANG!’ and, which seemed like at the exact same time, a whistle right by my right ear. It must have been a bullet, but I’ll never know. Still running, about to near the next corner, I hear another ‘BANG!’ Only this time, I did not hear the whistle wizz by my ear. This time I felt a bee sting on my shoulder. This whistle sounded different from the previous one.

 

I then rounded the corner as fast as I could. I hear no footsteps following me and make it to the next corner, breathing heavily. I look back and do not see the man. I take a few slight detours before determining that it would be best for me to get back to my studio as soon as possible.

 

I arrive back to my studio and find that the bee sting on my shoulder was actually an open wound. The bullet actually grazed my skin! I couldn’t believe it. I’ve actually been shot! That fucker actually shot me! There was a hole in my jacket and my shirt was missing some cloth. And there was a big streak which appeared like a heavy rug burn on my right shoulder!

 

As I inspect my slight wound some more, I phone 911. I speak to the police and give them details and information. The officers arrive in full force, I must say! EMS, the Fire Department, NYPD, all converged within a matter of minutes on my block and front door. It’s about 3:40am now. In my studio there is about 10 Emergency workers. Attending to my slight wounds, but many asking me questions.

 

As they clean up my shoulder and the cops continue to ask me questions, over the radio we are notified they picked up the man which fit the description I gave earlier! Of course, this was now about 4am. The man was found on 2nd Ave near 5th street. A few blocks East and North of our location.

 

It is now 6am when I write this. I went to the Precinct to identify the man, fill out paperwork, and file charges. In the meantime, the NYPD told me that the guy will be put away for a while. Especially since they had evidence and an eye witness.

 

Now I’m going to bed because I have a lot to do today.

I might go back to the Soup Kitchen to feed the homeless,

as I had such a wonderful experience doing that yesterday.

 

 

 

 

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.12.25.05:56:22@296NYC