Chapter 15: Bad Day For The New Purple

Evening Monday May 26, 2008
An LA Pizza Place - Formerly Black Kings territory

We had to do something about the Pammie and Tonto; Tonto’s mother was rabid in opposing 49 and there were too many ways the budding romance could blossom into a nasty gang war. Plus there were some real benefits to a long-term association with the Crystal Aztexs, assuming the 10% to 20% that were fanatical violent meth-heads could be eliminated.

So I had arranged a meet with Tony, the head of the Aztexs. The meeting was the night we got back from from Detroit. I picked a pizza place in neutral territory.

I got there early to make sure it looked good. I parked my (now white) Crown Vic right out front, in the “No Parking” zone because the ticket machines refuse to write tickets with my “covered” plates - they thought I was a allowed. I assumed that the obvious unmarked squad car - it had the dual spotlights and the computer in the front - would keep troublemakers away. But it is a sad fact that troublemakers are getting dumber every day, and they started from a low mark.

Ernie arrived with Pammie and Tony was right behind with Tonto. There were no bodyguards, Tony and I were in a good place with each other after he saw what I did to the high-priced dedicated assassins. I was armed with both guns.

Since they were finishing their junior year in high school I talked to both of the kids about college. They initially thought of Arizona State for Tonto and San Francisco State for Pammie. I have no clue as to why they picked those schools, but I saw a flaw. I suggested both of them think about a place where flying from LA was not a quick, cheap commuter flight, something any parent could do on a whim. That way there there was less chance of a the old “surprise visit by the folks.”

They got this terrified look, surprise visits were NOT in their plan. Maybe they planned to visit each other often, or transfer, but suddenly that plan was out-the-window. Now they were giving schools in Wyoming, South Dakota, Idaho, and Montana serious consideration.

They discovered that Washington and Idaho have schools close together (a quicker drive than the time to an LA airport), but they are in different states. However, before college there were still two summers, plus the next school year to cause trouble. My main concern was coming summer. But the one planted the seed for the other.

The fathers, Tony and Ernie, wanted a solution that would work, so I suggested shipping both kids off for the summer to a relative they could trust in another city - which could, by coincidence, be the same city. This meeting was to pick someplace, which meant sharing family information between the fathers.

But first we got some excitement from some folks on the low end of the IQ curve.

In neutral territory we were not showing our colors. We had ordered our food and were talking waiting on our pizzas. The kids shared a table across the room from the boring grownup gang leaders, they were using Pammie’s laptop and the pizza place WiFi, the password was the days special toppings: shrimp onion. I was alone against the wall while Ernie and Tony took opposite sides of the table in front of me. Then Ernie went out to deal with a parking meter and Tony went to the men’s room.

While the dads were gone five gang members - all white guys, they looked Jewish - walked in like they owned the place. They looked 18 to 24. All were bigger than Tonto and one was taller than me, but skinny. Their jackets did not match but their colors - purple and black scarves - did. One had a patch that said he was the “El PreZidentE” (it actually said that). They all had another patch with a really stupid logo and a name: The New LA Purple Gang. I was born in Detroit so that teed me off from the start.

Still, I did not start the group pistol-whipping that their patches begged for, this was a friendly meeting, for the kids.

But some folks were just begging for that beat down.

It seemed the gang was shaking the place down, demanding money from the owner. If they had been professional we might have had a peaceful meeting in private, exchanging respect, and explain the facts of life without any excessive bloodshed and broken bones. But that did not happen.

Two guys, the president and maybe his “heavy” bodyguard, went to the counter to see the owner. They were loud and talked like they were reading a bad movie script. Meanwhile, two guys who looked like Dumb and Dumber checked the crowd out, then peeled off to bother Pammie and Tonto. There were three other couples in the place, but Pammie was the sweetest so naturally she attracted the ugly flies. The tall skinny goofus, who carried a baseball bat, took a lookout position in the center of the room where he could watch the front door, but didn’t. Instead he was fascinated by the antics of Dumb and Dumber in the “Pammie” zone.

I never go anywhere without “my little friend,” a compact Glock 29 holstered in the small of my back. I could have dropped them all with that but then there would have been noise and blood and paperwork and nobody needed that with their pizza sauce.

Tonight I also had my shoulder rig with a big fucking Glock 20 long pipe (both are 10 mm) on one side, and two spare mags (one extended) plus a silencer and a few special purpose bullets (blanks, frags, and shot) on the other side. I figured, when a Federal Judge is in the mood to sign things (it’s his job), why not ask for the works - concealed carry and silencer permits. It was not like he was going to read what I gave him, that was what clerks were for. So I was kosher for the hardware.

I knew Ernie had a carry permit, at one time he had won a quick-draw + shoot contest involving ankle holsters; I heard he used a small Berreta back in the day. Tony had a felony bust but he always liked close-up work anyways, he had a number of throwing knives plus a tool belt with some long extra sharp screwdrivers, a hammer and some wicked chisels. If he ditched the knives he was cheap, legal and very deadly. His approach was painful and messy, but effective.

When I spotted the gang colors my first move was to slip the compact Glock 29 from my back and stick a blank in the pipe. Then I slipped the Glock 20 out and screwed the silencer on, because the combo looks so fucking intimidating. Both of these moves were below the table, so nobody saw steel or heard a thing.

The two guys talking to Pammie and Tonto were being a pain but I really did not want to shoot anybody until Ernie and Tony were back. Then I would not have to shoot anybody. So the kids put up with some stupid posing.

Then I heard Dumb say that Pammie “better get friendly with me or she would get friendly with all his gang.”

“All purple of you? As if!” was her retort.

That was when a number of things happened at once.

Tony walked out of the restroom and was expecting to take the pizza off the counter (the box had his name on it). But the bodyguard grabbed it and said “the little guy” could wait. The thing about holding a pizza box is that you naturally use two hands. Tony was all-city soccer in his prime. So he kicked the guy hard, kicking the ball the length of the field hard, hitting in the bad place. Then as the guy is falling, Tony hit him hard on the side of the face with some brass knuckles that just appeared. Like I said, Tony brings the extra topping of pain. It was a bank shot, the guy’s head slammed into the metal edge of the counter as he fell, I’m sure he didn’t feel it by then. He was out for the night.

Tony caught his pizza as the guy fell.

At the same time Tonto started to get up out of his chair but Dumber, who was behind his chair, put hands on Tonto’s shoulders and held him down. Tonto is a small guy and does not know the counter-move. The other guy, Dumb, touched Pammie’s hair just as Ernie opened the door. Her father saw it, and yelled for him to “get away from her.”

Dumb responded with, “who’s going to make me? An ancient beaner?” At the same time the guy in the middle of the room moved to intercept Ernie with his bat.

Ernie faked them, stepping towards Pammie, acting like he didn’t see the bat-guy, so the guy did nothing defensive. Ernie took some quick steps then went low, sliding like Ty Cobb into bat guy and taking out his legs with a neat scissors move, just like he did when he was younger. The bigger they are ... Pammie saw it and her eyes sparkled at her Daddy.

Like I said, all that happened at once.

Things were about to get messy with whatever weapons the Purples had, Pammie and Tonto were still vulnerable, so I froze everybody at the party by firing the blank at the ceiling. Outside it would be loud. In the little pizza place it was DAMN loud. Everybody froze and turned my way, that is what the rules say when somebody fires a gun at a party for stupids.

I spoke to address Dumb’s last question directly, hamming up my “Scarface” accent. (I could not help it.) “In answer to your stupid question, helping el senor would be me ... and my little friend.” Every bad guy knows that line - and the grenade launcher that goes with it. I pointed the small compact Glock 29 at Dumb with my left hand. “Plus my little friend’s big brother.” I held up the Glock 20 in my right hand aimed it at Dumber. Now, the 29 is a small pistol, it shoots a big bullet but does not look that intimidating, especially with a big guy like me. However, the extended Glock 20 with a silencer in my right hand is a monster, it looks bigger than Dirty Harry’s fabled Magnum. The FBI does not use them because they are too big and powerful, plus the bullets tend to keep going after hitting a body or a car or a wall, etc.

Dumb could not think of a retort so he raised his hands. Dumber just looked stupid, something he probably learned in our failing schools. Bat guy watched Ernie pick up the bat and knew pain was coming in his immediate future.

The guy with the Prez patch was the only purple guy who kept his head. Ignoring his unconscious buddy-guard bleeding on the ground, he started to move to either flank me or pull my eyes off his friends. He was inexperienced and tunnel-visioned, he only had eyes for me. I ignored him, he was stupid and had a tiger on his tail.

Tony pulled out a foot-long Phillips-head screwdriver with one hand as he closed the distance. In a moment he grabbing the guy’s head on one side, then put the tip of the screwdriver into the guy’s ear on the other side, drawing blood. “Do you want to die looking real stupid ... and screwed?” Tony asked.

El Prez put his hands up.

Tony promptly kicked El Prez in the back of the knees so he went down hard.

Meanwhile, in the center of the floor, Ernie was working some moves. He has outwitted tall guys with baseball bats before. The guy Ernie took down was holding the bat with both hands when he went down so his long nose absorbed some of the impact. Ex-batter/lookout was also a bleeder. When Ernie stood up again he had the bat. Dumb had his hands up and backed off quick. Dumber was confused, he stayed where he was so he took a quick poke from the bat to the jaw. Just a tap. Maybe Ernie knocked out a tooth or two. He dropped to his knees.

Ernie then explained good manners to Dumb and Dumber, first reinforcing their words with tactile aids delivered by the bat to the torsos. After they were both tuned up a little Ernie said to Pammie, “avert your eyes honey, the bad man has to learn something the hard way.”

“Oh yes Daddy,” Pammie responded, her voice clear and sparkling as a bell. I noticed she peeked.

Ernie took the tire-iron Dumber carried and stuck it through Dumb’s hand because he had touched Pammie. First he made the guy hold his hand out for a solid whack first, just to reinforce the lesson and numb the pain. Then he put the pointy end through the hand. Next he made a mess of the guy’s face. Finally he insured that the guy had no thoughts of a sexual nature for a few weeks. Honestly, I could not watch it.