Hey guys,
I am back. So my first blog was an introduction. Again I will brief the new visitors on my background but please refer to my introduction blog. My name is Anthony. I am 30 years old living in New York City. This blog is created to tell funny and crazy stories of my past. I would say I have a lot of interesting tales so let's dive right in.
It all started when I was eight years old living in Brooklyn, New York. I remember the summer when I was finally allowed to hang out with the neighborhood kids. This was 18th Ave., Bensonhurst Brooklyn. A neighborhood known for predominately Italians. So as it goes a few kids wanted to play stickball in the middle of the street. I jumped off the stoop of my apartment and was glad to join them in some street stickball.
We stood in the street playing for hours as we constantly stopped in between as cars drove up and down. It was approaching night time and the neighborhood ice cream man was making his rounds. A few of the kids were a lot older than I , and decided it would be funny to rob the ice cream man. So as the ice cream man comes to our block a few of the kids jump on the truck push the ice cream man out and take off in this ice cream truck.
I stared at the face of the ice cream man. He was in extreme shock and anger. The kids drove the truck up the block and quickly hopped out stealing any money that was in the truck. As they hopped out they forgot to put it in park. The truck came crashing into a curb . Fortunately no one was nearby and no damage was done. The ice cream man then runs on the truck and grabs a huge metal chain.
He then begins to set on foot chase chasing all the neighborhood kids. Eventually he tired out and so did my friends. But one kid was dumb enough to try to antagonize the ice cream man one last time. It was at this moment the ice cream man took the chain and beat one of the older neighborhood kids to a pulp. I mean he was whipping him from head to toe as the kid is just laying there. A few of the neighborhood parents ran outside and stopped the Fiasco but the damage had already been done. The cops were called the ice cream man was arrested and he never showed face in Bensonhurst again. My friend eventually recovered from the beating but always brings up the story. As for the stolen money... one of the parents demanded we give it to them. We never seen a dollar after that.
This was just one of my first crazy experiences I was only eight. I appreciate everyone who took the time to read through this. The stories get a lot more crazier and wilder as I grew up so please stay in tuned for the next set of blogs and thanks again.
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