It's a scorcher today in Chicago. The kinda weather, where you could toss an egg out your fuckin' window and then by the time you hit the streets after exitin' your crib, you'll find that shit laying, cooked on the sidewalk. Most folks would hunker down, bunker style in their homes during this type of heat. Lay low and not do shit. Hidden away in the comfort of air conditioning, till nightfall. Not this jackass. Nah. I have to take my happy ass down to my landlord's home and explain, why I had to pay him in cash. Now, I know I made it clear to this motherfucker that it was my requirement for renting, that I pay my rent in cash. I don't like paper trails. He and I had this conversation over the phone. Everything was peachy keen. I paid him first and last months rent, along with a deposit. Got my keys. It was all straight. Then suddenly, it's a different story. Now I have to explain my situation. Tell him exactly why, I need this requirement of paying strictly in cash. Give my reasons in full detail and lay it all out for him. I also have to do this without pullin' my Colt 45 and puttin' a nice, bullet sized hole in his head. Which would feel real good but would also send me looking for a new place and I really don't want to go through all that crap again. So here I go. To the landlord's place of residence, cause y'know this fucker can't make it easy.

Nope. He can't show up here or even live in the building. Nah. This dude lives all the way down by the lake. In a place that would more than likely make my apartment look like a crack den or some shit. Which it is not. Hell no, it's not. I mean I might not have high standards, but I do have standards. My apartment isn't covered in trash or infested with vermin, nor are there any burnin' drums in it with homeless bastards standing around them. No ways. My place is clean, simple and cheap. Yes. But it's also livable aka not a squalor dump. It just isn't the type of place you'd expect a televised wrestler to live in. Translation, it ain't fancy. Why isn't it fancy? Hmmm... well, cause I'm not the type o' guy that needs all that shit in his life. I like it simple. Uncomplicated. Meaning... I'm a dude with little wants and fewer possessions. All I need is a place to sleep, food in my belly, clothes on my back, boots on my feet, my bike and a healthy supply of weed and I'm a happy fuckin' camper. Everything else is expendable. Unnecessary. So when someone threatens to take away the tiny bit that I do appreciate in life. I get pissed. Real fuckin' pissed. This man renting to me is not going to come face to face with a pleasant Griffin.

First I gotta get there though. And I admit, I'm draggin' ass to do this shit cause I find the situation completely insufferable. I'm taking my time. I hit the bowl and I've got some Oi crankin'. Eventually, I leave my apartment and head straight towards my bike. Really looking forward to jumping on that thing too cause it's hot as fuck out and there's only street parking. So this also stops me in my tracks and causes me to fire up a smoke, while I just look at my motorcycle. Sorta stare it down. Yeah. Real mature. It's the bike's fault. Not mine, for not doing something that made sense... like park it under a tree. Hey, gimme a break though. I'm in a shitty mood.

Anyway, I take a drag from my coffin nail and start to wonder if this is a sign, that I should actually get a car. When all of a sudden, some dude comes rushing past me, like his ass is on fire. He's about my height, maybe a little taller. This isn't a red flag though. Chicago is choc full of dumb ass motherfuckers doin' stupid shit without any regard for who's standin' in front of them. He didn't run into me or anything. So his antics don't really stick out. What sticks out is the ski mask. Yeah. That's the first thing that sticks out like a sore thumb. Not exactly weather appropriate at all. Second, is the messenger bag that he's got, clutched tightly under his arm. Not too weird, not unless you take into account that it's bright ass purple... oh and the fact that, dude's rockin' a ski mask. Third, is the woman chasing after him. She on the other hand, does manage to crash right into me. Like full on, smashes into me. Head on collision style.

She hits the ground. Lands flat on her back. I get knocked back and make friends with the concrete. Cigarette takes flight. It's a fuckin' disaster. Seriously. I have never been so fully taken off guard and affected that terribly by a broad. I blame taking note of the guy in the ski mask but really, I shoulda caught myself better than that. It was a chick after all. And I'm not talking about some lady built like old school Chyna or Awesome Kong. This girl is small. Petite even. Lets just say this is not one of my proudest moments. Anyways, I pick my ass off the sidewalk and walk over to the spot, where the female is now sitting up and holding her head. I'm not the nicest guy in the world. Lets face it. I'm an asshole. On a regular basis, kinda asshole. Still I reach down and help the girl up. With ease too. Makin' the whole collision even more embarrassing.

Whatever. I'm over it. She got me good... case closed. Anyhow, this woman looks upset and it's understandable. Her stuff got snatched. I'd be mad as fuck too. Except I woulda caught dude and accomplished the task without taking myself and someone else out in the process. I also wouldn't have been carrying a bright purple messenger bag. I'm not fuckin' Scorpio over here. That's not a slam either. I seen it. I was roaming the XWF halls one day and suddenly, there was Scorpio and he was carrying, almost the same type of bag, except his was more of a florescent purple, appeared to be made outta vinyl and was completely bedazzled in rhinestones. This is all besides the issue at hand though. The issue at hand was this. Now I'm lookin' at this girl and that feeling of overwhelming guilt hits me. Yeah, I'm an asshole, but this can happen to me too. I'm not made of stone and the situation warranted it... kinda. The woman got her crap stolen. So internally I start an argument with myself, there's a lot of cursing, it's pointless to recant. Ultimately, I tell her to hold up. I got this. I'm a fuckin' chump... I know. I also know that I can't explain why I'm doing this for her. I simply do this shit. Almost on instinct.

The guy was running like a mad man down the sidewalk, headed south. Okay. This pursuit is going to be simple. I take the sinners sidewalk. In other words, I take the alleys. (Haha! Sorry. I had a cop call them that to my face once, back when I was a young punk kid, still cracks me up to this day. True story.) Chicago is full of alleyways. I still know them like the back of my hand. Making maneuvering them a breeze. Of course, you might run into a dead end but there's always a way around that and this is what makes hoppin' fences, a much needed skill. One that I practically honed when I was younger. With this strategy in play, I steadily make my way down the course that I've already got mapped out in my head perfectly. Leading directly to an alley that will put me right in front of dude as he comes careening down the street. He was going fast but c'mon... I'm a living weapon, I'm faster.

This isn't bragging either. It's the truth. I am. I'm also correct about the guy. I see him heading for me. Looking back over his shoulder, more than in front of him. Probably, wondering where that girl that was giving chase was, since she wasn't still gunnin' down the road in hot pursuit after his ass. I see this and take the easy method and stick out my foot. Nice and shiny, straight laced, black Grinder, right out there. Far enough to really make an impact and it does... magnificently. The man trips. Really fucking trips. With his eyes bulging and his arms flailing around like he's trying to take flight. This is the king mega of all trip and falls. He makes some distance too. Feet totally off the ground. He knows he's fucked. I know he's fucked. It's fuckin' great. This whole scenario even pulls a chuckle outta me as I reach out and catch the bag before it hits the ground. Dude isn't so lucky though. He faceplants the pavement. Hard. Instantly, there's blood. I swear I heard the crunch of something breaking too, maybe even more than one something. Also a couple of teeth managed to crack out of his mouth and pierce through the ski mask, cause they're laying on the ground in front of him now, surrounded in an increasingly growing pool of blood. There's no question. This dude got his shit fucked up. Bad.

That's not my problem though. He learned a very valuable lesson today and he should be happy about that. Don't be stupid if you're going to be a thief. Especially if you're going the route of a grab and go. Plus he's still breathing. So there's also that. He lives to be an idiot for another day. Me, on the other hand, I get to look like the nice guy, for once in my life at least. I walk on back down the avenue and I see the girl, she's comin' up the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Ecstatic as fuck. We meet up somewhere, midway to where I left her and she hugs me, while doing this sorta half-hop kinda thing. Needless to say I'm greeted with a very girly moment. This sort of moment doesn't really take place in my life often, so I let it run its course and then hand her the bag. Now this is where it gets interesting. She's looking up at me with these big ol' brown eyes. Standin' no taller than 5'5" give or take and she says...

"Oh wow! Thank you! Thank you so much! I totally owe you. What are you doing right now? I have to get you a cup of coffee and hear how you did that."

"Did what?"

"How you caught that guy."

"It's cool. Don't sweat it. You don't owe me anything. It was my pleasure to help you get your sh... your stuff, back."

"No, I insist. I need to know. Come on, do you really have something that important to do? You did just save a total stranger's bag."

This is followed by a laugh. She's got me. Yeah, I do have something important to do but I can put it off. I didn't want to deal with that bullshit anyway. Someone woulda wound up dead, in the end. Whatever. She through out the bait. Griffin MacAlister turned into a fish and she hooked him. Plain and simple. Don't judge. She's cute and... it's been a fuckin' while since I had cute in my life.

"Nah. I don't have anything that important to do. I'm in, lets get coffee."

"Awesome."

Again, another one of those excited half-hops that girls do when they're excited and a smile, that would literally stop traffic. In a good way. I'm just sayin' that if she wanted to, she could halt traffic. And by the looks of her, the reason would be to allow safe passage for some ducks to waddle off to a pond. That's right. All of five minutes of knowing her and I already can tell, she's got that kinda sweetness in her.

"Well, first thing's first. I need to know the name of my superhero."

I'm not elaborating on this either. She said superhero. I know. I'm shocked too but it happened. Then she extended her hand out. To which I accepted the offer and the handshake process took place.

"Griffin MacAlister."

"Nice to meet you Griffin MacAlister. I'm Lila, Lila Laroque."



Yep. That just happened.