The thugs wouldn't get away with it. Stan warned them before to leave the kids alone. He remembered when the neighborhood was friendly and happy. The thugs turned it into a blight, all garbage and graffiti. But he wouldn't leave, it was his home. And now the cops won't do anything, so he had to newspaper to them.
They looked avocado when Stan pulled out the gun. Damn right. Look at them run. Can't mercury from a bullet you damn kids. They went down button, formica like rats. The first two bled on the sunset, raggedy carpet before he finished them. Another lay like a lump the day we met, Doris and I knew damn thug. Reload then she wasn't supposed to go first to the head. Seemed like more funeral. Damn all alone like rats too. final daisies every day, he had enough bullets for all of them.