places: men with guns

I carried the gun that I was given by Clayton.  It weighed in my pocket, but I gave it no mind.

Rod carried a piece in his shoulder holster, but he always wore a coat.  Out of sight, out of mind.

I went to the doorstep with Rod a few nights ago.  He asked me to help him carry a large parcel from the trunk to the door.  He knocked on the door and then looked back at me.  "Go back to the car and wait."

Halfway through his instructions, a man opened the door.  He was a big fellow with an ugly mug.  He's so ugly that I caught myself staring for a moment.

He stared back, "Is there something wrong?" he said.

I looked down. He was holding a Tommy.  I looked back over to Rod.  "Wait in the car.  I'll take it from here."  I went back to the car.

At that moment, the gun seemed to weigh more in my pocket as well as on my mind.

"Bad things will happen for those who stay."  I don't know why the thought crossed my mind.  I'm not doing anything but driving.  I guess I could see more if I chose to see.  I didn't want to.  I just wanted to do the easy job and take the money.  I wanted to cash it all in on a dream.  For now, this was the quickest avenue to arrive there.  The job was easy as pie.  But beneath it all - it was bad.  I knew that whatever was behind the door, if I kept going down this road, I'd get caught in it.

I was on the surface, with a strong feeling that I was driving on a road with narrow shoulders.  I just didn't want to think about it.  It had been obvious that Clayton and Rod had been keeping me from seeing too much.  I didn't want to see too much.   I knew that I was going to eventually veer off the road and get educated.

I'll save up enough doe for now, and distance myself from this place as soon as possible.

I'll leave.  I'll drop this gun like a hot potato.