My name is Calvin Moore, and I am 26, un-employed, and currently addicted to cigarettes. Never seemed to stop smoking, and never seemed to care about people who say "You're going to get cancer, Calvin." I always shut out them out of my head, so they can't bother me more than they should. Cigarettes, for me, are a gift from the gods themselves. Who else would know how to put that ecstasy, the taste, and the aftertaste, all in a little cylindrical piece of paper?
I really need to make some money fast. Mom needs to do a surgery to replace her failed kidney and liver. Dad is already working overtime every day to see to it that she lives. But it's not enough. Even though he is the Chief of Police, his salary is getting low every time. And he can't quit either. He has nowhere else that he qualifies for. Mom needs, which I think is, $500,000. It might be more, it might be less, I don't know. After all, it's been 2 years since I last saw her.
As I stand outside the liquor store, the moonlight gently hits everything around me. The moon was also beautiful tonight. Not a cloud in the sky and all the stars in the sky shine like an endless flurry of flickering light bulbs; stunning, but not that much captivating. My cigarette burns with the gentlest of flame, and the smoke coming out of the tip of it was more mesmerizing than the stars. It is always appealing to me to see how the smoke shapes out into different things, and then vanish.
The enjoyment of my cigarette was interrupted by a familiar voice, coming from the west. A voice I haven't heard since my school years. I looked west, and saw a handsome looking guy, well, not as handsome as me. He was calling out my name like a madman. "Calvin! Calvin! It's me!" He called out. I thought he was one of the people who told me to stop smoking, so I shut him out of my mind, and got back to enjoying what was left of my cigarette.
A car passed by at high speed, and the light from its headlights illuminated the smoke which came out of my mouth and nose. I took one last whiff of my cigarette, threw it to the ground, and stamped it. I breathed out the smoke which was in my mouth, and looked at the person who was calling me. I didn't recognize him at first glance, but I recognized him from his childish voice. It was Davis, old buddy from my early years. He has long black hair, somewhat thin, all I can say is that he has grown a lot, but he isn't taller than me, only a few inches short. "Finally, you looked." He said without hesitation. "Davis! How is it my man? "I said to him, with a fake smile on my face. I wanted to be alone this night. "Look, I heard you are un-employed. I just wanted to give you a job offer" said Davis. I didn't believe what I just heard, a job offer, from my best friend? "Really?" I tried clarifying my doubt. "Yes, only if you are up for it. This job isn't for the faint of heart." He said with a mean looking grin. If I knew Davis any better, this job is going to be good.
"Okay, what's the job?" I asked him. "Have you heard all those robberies around Greamstill city? Well, that was me, and some other guy you might know" He said. I chuckled, thinking it was a joke. But when I looked at his face, all I could see was pure seriousness. "Seriously Davis? Look, robbing things is in my 'top 5 to do list' but really getting into it? I don't know." I said to him, with some contempt. "Oh come on, the pay is good. And I know about your mother. I feel sorry for you, but I guaranty you that you will get the sum of money you need for your mother's surgery" Said Davis.
I looked at his face, wondering how he knew about my mother's sickness. I nodded my head sideways, still having doubts on whether joining him in the robbing business. "Hey, we need someone smart on the team." said Davis, interrupting my thoughts. "Me? Smart? You know me, I didn't pass in any test during school, remember? Hell, I didn't pass in anything!" I said to Davis, turning his smile into a small frown. He thought for a moment, and said "Sure, you aren't smart in the things which they teach you in school. But you are smart in other things. Remember the Remote Controlled Chaos?" How could I forget? My hate for my ex-classmates and teachers made me think of a way to get back at them, for all the taunting and yelling. I made small remote controlled bombs which exploded like fire-crackers. The classroom floor was covered with black stains from the bomb, and took the entire day to clean it up. After all of that, they never even suspected me. "That plan was executed so perfectly. That's why we need you; your plans can make us do big time robberies. Plan them right, and we might even walk out alive."
