“Yea man, I can’t let ‘em catch me down bad; I gotta keep peddlin’. You know?”
Poochie cocked the back wheel of his bike and stepped on the peddle with his left foot causing the wheel to spin around.
“They can’t catch me on this. I be dippin’ through the cut and bendin’ dem corners. If they ain’t got the ghetto bird flyin’, I’m out! You know what I’m sayin’?” “Yea homeboy, like I said; you a slick dude.”
“Well I’m out T-Rock.”
“I’ll holla at ya Pooch.”
Poochie peddled down the street and out of Pine Hills to his next spot; on his back was a backpack where he secured his product and firearm. A two time felon with three outstanding warrants he found it prudent to stay mobile and protected. Poochie made a vow to himself and anyone listening that he would never go back to prison. They would never take him alive. He received a call from some customers in Ivey Lane. When he arrived he set up shop in his favorite customer/trick, Lez’s crib. He sent her to give word to everyone that he was there and would be for the next two hours. Before he left eight hundreds dollars worth of cocaine, ecstasy, marijuana, and crack or “hard” had been sold. Poochie peddled on after providing Lez with drugs and getting a quickie.
His next stop, down town to Parramore Street to get off the rest of his hard. He knew that he could sell out under the bridge where the drunks, junkies and homeless played checkers and found lodging. Orlando Police had been getting repots from detained addicts in search of freedom about a dealer who traveled the city on a bicycle. They had a description of him as well as a description of his bike; his areas of operation were also provided. Poochie hung out under the bridge with his pistol in the small of his back, ten twenties of crack in right pocket and five balloons of heroin in his left. There were a few homeless Vietnam war veterans still addicted to the drug that frequented the oasis of the homeless, as it was sometimes called by it residents.
Poochie was almost done and about to leave for home, a run down rooming house in Orange Center. Just then he saw a police car coming down Parramore so he casually got on his bike and began to peddle away. The officer driving the police cruiser looked to an informant on his left and got the nod he was looking for; this was his guy. Officer Parker quickly called for back up. Fortunately there was an officer coming down Gore Street which intersected Parramore in the direction Poochie was heading. Poochie notice the police car behind him picking up speed. He peddled harder.
He made it to the corner and saw a police car to his right so he turned left on Gore and peddled harder. Poochie made it though an intersection and then he saw flashing lights ahead of him. A train was coming, an escape. Poochie grinned wide displaying all of his eight gold teeth as he envisioned himself alluding the police once again. He looked back and shot the coppers a bird as he approached the train crossing. Poochie turned to see the black and orange striped arm coming down in front of him. He road right into it. It caught him in the throat throwing him backwards off of the bike and onto his back knocking him unconscious. Police quickly surrounded him and took him in custody. Poochie is now Florida State Property for the rest of his natural life at age twenty-nine. Poochie peddles no more!
Peddling Peddler Poochie