• I Beat Sherman In Darts
• I Am Attacked By A Young Black Man
• Busking Miseries Continue
• Should I try to be smart and not let my ego get in the way of making wise decisions?

Last night I was determined to get to my spot and claim it at an early enough hour, which I managed to do, even after challenging Sherman to a game of darts, which terminated at about 8:45 when I threw a double bulls-eye to claim victory.

Sherman has, amongst his 24 hobbies; darts.

(Photography, Archery, Fishing, Air-Brush Painting, Fish-Keeping, Guitar Playing, Keyboard Playing, Weight Lifting, Model Rocketry, Carpentry, Computer Programming, Video Gaming, and Cycling round out the other "24.")
He has a dart board and, according to him, when he first took up the game "there were more holes in the wall around the board than there were in the board."

He has practiced many hours and was a better dart thrower than myself when I first got there. He had better technique, which he had culled from the internet by Googling "Dart World Championship," or something and then learning from the freaks that can throw three bulls-eyes, if they need to; or three triple 20's if they don't, on any given turn...

But, once upon a time, back in 1996, I had a friend who had a dart board in his garage and I would often go there and shoot darts and make up my own games, such as trying to throw a "1" and then a "2" and then a "3" etc. and see how high up I could get before missing a shot. I think I got up to 19, once.

I had practiced a bit on a previous visit to Shermans, and last night, practiced more and started to feel the old magic coming back, to where, as soon as I released the dart, I could "feel' where it was going... 

I jokingly said "I think I can beat you in a game of darts, now"
I must say that I improved even as the game went along, with my groupings closer together, or more "accurate," as the pros would say...
I think Sherman spreads himself too thin with all his varied activities.

I Fight Over Five Dollars

Then, I busked for a while and got a handfull of one dollar bills, before midnight rolled around and I took my customary break, to run to the hood store, to get my second 24 oz. Natural Ice beer of the night.

The oppressive heat was causing the beer to hit me harder" and, after I guzzled the second beer behind the store, I was walking past the official crack dealers of the little market, when one of them asked me if I was "straight."

I told him that I was indeed "straight" and that I didn't mess with that (stuff) -only smoked a little weed every now and then.

I shouldn't have even offered that tidbit of information, as hustlers are known for taking everything you say and using it against you, (just not in a court of law.)

"I can get you good weed, right over there," said the young black man, who was about my height and weight, and about 25 years younger.

It had been so long since I have dealt with his element and so recently that I had guzzled my second 24 oz. Natural Ice, that I ignored the warning sign of his instant ability to get me "good weed" as soon as I had mentioned it. (He probably could have gotten me "good LSD" in the same alley, had I said "I don't mess with that stuff, just drop a little acid here and there...")

I told him that I only had 5 bucks to spend, anyway (an investment that I hoped would come back three-fold when my Pink Floyd and Grateful Dead and not to mention Bob Marley songs took on a new, euphoric dimension after I imbibed).

This didn't seem to deter him, as he ushered me across the street and towards a house where some "hippie" lived and did business.

"I'll smoke you up," I said, which got no response out of him.

This was *kind of* the second warning sign that I ignored; what's in it for him? How much could he possibly profit off of my 5 dollar transaction?

Well, to make a long story short, we got a little ways down a side street, and just out of sight of the main road, whereupon he asked me to give him the five dollars, so that he could go to the house and get the little cranberry sized (at least, I was hoping) bud, and would return with it. (-Third warning sign, for those of you keeping track...)

"If these people don't trust you enough (,dude) to put it in your hands and let you walk away and they don't trust you enough to return to them with my 5 bucks, then, why in hell, should I trust you; I met you 5 minutes ago; these are supposedly your "peeps" that you're dealing with; you must think I'm stupid!" I said, starting to see through the Natural Ice haze enough to understand why he would be willing to walk all the way down there for a lousy 5 dollar deal (he would be keeping the whole 5 bucks) and starting to walk away.

Then, he fell into the old, tired, pretty much standard hustle of saying "I walked all the way down here, for nothing?! You owe me five bucks!"
"The hell I do! You walked all the way down here to rip me off!"
"You're gonna give me the five bucks, or I'm gonna beat your ass!," he said, as he reached down and picked up an empty beer bottle by the side of the road, and in an action which he might have seen done in the movies, attempted to turn it into a make-shift knife by breaking it on the curb, only the idiot shattered the whole bottle, leaving himself a hand-full of shards.
He came after me anyways.
Nike Air Defense

I had the disadvantage of having my glasses and my hat on. The one, decreasing my peripheral vision, the other, increasing my straight ahead vision.

I didn't have time to take the glasses off and put them in my pocket before he was upon me; but he did me the favor of taking them off for me, along with the hat with his volley of punches, a few of which landed, and caused the glasses to fly off my head.

Being a bit too drunk to have seen through his scam also meant being too drunk to fight at the highest level, but I managed to fend him off, as he seemed concerned with dragging me to the ground and kept pulling upon one of my arms in an apparent attempt to do so.

Once on the ground, and on my back, though, I was able to connect with one of my new Nike Air VISI PRO 2 sneakers to his solar plexes as he attempted to move in on me. This sent him flying backwards (amazing what adrenaline will do for you), enough so that I could regain my feet and, then I basically ran off, and was soon within the brightly lit area near the main road, where he would have to be an even bigger idiot to continue to try to assault me.

I didn't really feel like I was hurt, I was more concerned with retrieving my glasses (perhaps in the morning) but after the guy in the convenience store asked "What happened to you?" I looked at my reflection and saw that I had a badly swollen cheek, and a cut over my right eye which was oozing blood down my face, and what you would call a "pip" under my left eye. My knees, especially the left one, were pretty badly scraped, as he seemed to be trying to drag me as much as punch me.

There had been another, probably unrelated incident and the hood stores parking lot had about 8 police cars in it. I wondered if the guy that attacked me was wondering how I could have gotten them there so fast; or if I was "one of them..." 

I decided to go back out and busk, blood and all.

A Sherman Shepherd

I wasn't making any money, despite saying "Just punch me in the face if you don't like my music," to whom evers attention I got. I really was hoping for the chance to lie and say that some guy came by and said "You suck!" and attacked me, hoping to at least make some money out of the situation.

Then, Sherman showed up on his bike. He immediately asked me what had happened.

"Some guy jumped me, over 5 dollars."

"Where?!" he asked, as if outraged that a thing like that could happen anywhere in the Capitol City.

I told him some of the details. I didn't want to make it sound like I had no fault in bringing about the circumstances; like it was a totally random uncalled for act of violence. That would have enraged him and made him go home to get his gun or his bow and arrow.

He left and returned shortly thereafter with a damp wash cloth and some kind of antiseptic, which I used to wipe my face, and his gun; can't forget his gun...

(Of course he has one; he seems to have everything else.)

We went on a mission to find my glasses and my hat. 

We found the glasses (they had flown to the other edge of the road, but not the hat. Sorry Alex In California, but I lost the beautiful hat that you sent me; but you probably already knew I was kind of irresponsible at times.

We heard someones voice coming out of the darkness as we searched, but nobody approached. Maybe our non chalance and obvious lack of fear tipped them off to the fact that we had some kind of ace in the hole...Maybe their intuition told them not to approach the armed man who receives a check each month from the government for a "mental disability."