Tuesday, July 24, 2012


Last night I was sitting at my desk, drinking a glass of water (not alcohol) and catching up on CNN (not porn) when something massive exploded with a loud fucking CRACK on the street outside of my apartment. A flash of white light illuminated my blinds, and then all was silent. I have previously considered myself the type who'd immediately spring into action at the first sign of a gunshot / explosion / danger, but now I know that it takes a good four seconds for me to think of anything more strategic than "what the fuck!". By the time I'd come to my senses and thrown myself behind my bed, I definitely would have been killed... if the explosion had been the first of a series of gunshots aimed at my windows. Luckily, it wasn't, and after a few minutes passed I stepped outside to investigate. All my neighbors were on their porches as well. Word on the street was that dozens of cop cars were dealing with an extension of the emergency two blocks away by Crack Alley (McDonald's). Whatever went down in front of good ole' 931 Fulton last night is classified as: still a mystery.

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