Earth vs. Everybody Read Free

around the table the other way, using the other eye.
    Fortunately for
me, Shifty was at the table. He stuck up for me. “He’s okay, boss. He’s
definitely not honest.” I gave him a high five.
    The criminals
didn’t seem to attach too much importance to what I had done before in life.
They didn’t seem to think anything about me was very important. I was thankful
for that. Offended, too.
    “Do you have any
experience in our kind of business?” asked the man at the head of the table.
    I nodded. “I have
experience.”
    “Have you ever
killed anyone?”
    I nodded. “I have
killed everyone.”
    “Is there
anything you wouldn’t say or do to get this job?”
    “There is nothing
I wouldn’t say or do to get this, or any other, job.”
    The criminals
looked at each other, impressed. I heard one of them mutter: “That’s the kind
of man we want.” And another said: “Where has he been all our lives?”
    They asked me a
few more questions about my background, checking to make sure I was giving them
truthful answers by slapping me around a little. I didn’t mind. That’s how I
find out stuff too. It works.
    After they
finished interviewing me they had me wait outside while they talked it over.
When they called me back in they told me that I was hired. In deference to my
age and experience they were going to start me out quite a ways up the criminal
ladder, as a bank robber.
    “Welcome aboard,”
the man at the head of the table said. “Any questions?”
    “Yes. When do I
get my vacation?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Shit.”
    “Any other
questions?”
    “About that
vacation…”
    “We’ll tell you
when you get your vacation.”
    “But…”
    “Report to work
at nine a.m. tomorrow morning.”
    “Yes sir.”
    On my way out of
the building I asked the thugs at the door for my valuables, but they played
dumb.
    “What wallet?”
asked one of them innocently.
    “What picture of your
mother?” asked the other one.
    I didn’t press
it. I had a job. That was what mattered. I could always take another picture of
my mother if I wanted one.
    The next morning
I was shown around the operation and got to meet some of the guys I would be
working with. They were a colorful group, and I could tell I was going to like
them.
    “Scarface here
was thrown off the most wanted list because of some nice thing he did,” I was
told when I was introduced to one man.
    “Say it ain’t so,
Scarface,” I said.
    “I ain’t saying
nuttin’.”
    I turned to the
criminal next to Scarface. “I guess they must call you ‘Gorilla Face’, eh?”
    “No…”
    “They don’t? Why
not? Haven’t they seen your face?”
    “Let’s go,” said
my guide, nervously.
    “Okay. So long,
Gorilla Face. You too, Pig Eyes. Catch you later, Shit-For-Looks.”
    I enjoyed meeting
and chatting with the men. I felt I was getting a rare insight into the inner
workings of the criminal mind. Criminals, I discovered, don’t think like we do.
They’re greedy. And selfish. Always looking out for themselves instead of the
other guy. They’re not like us at all.
    The more I saw of
the operation, the more impressed I was. This was Organized Crime at its most
organized. Everything was done quickly and efficiently, to a timetable that
never varied, the criminals were always impeccably dressed, and the building
was kept spotless at all times. There were even recycling cans on every floor,
with the legs sticking out of them positioned “just so”. I could tell I was
going to fit in well here. I’m pretty organized myself.
    After my
orientation tour was completed, I was taken to the office of my new
supervisor—Mr. Knuckles. He handed me a blueprint of a large building and told
me to memorize it. He said that would be my first assignment. I was to take 20
men and rob the 1 st National
Bank of Central City.
    “No sweat,” I
said, sweating.
    I glanced at the
complicated blueprint, then asked if I could study it later, when no one was
watching me, and he