It was a cold and gloomy winter night in a ghetto neighbourhood of Paris; the canal was frozen and the streets were completely empty with the exception of the odd shadows walking past. Damian was sitting at a cafe terrace with his friend, Ballantine. They were chugging down mouthfuls of Kronenbourg’s and stayed at the cafe for several hours. At around one in the morning, they decided to go home. Damian got up left five euros on the table, said goodbye to Ballantine and started to make his way home with a determined but unbalanced march; he was meandering on the sidewalk.
Ballantine was too drunk to drive himself home but not drunk enough to decide to drive anyway. So he completed the bill and walked home; taking a stroll along the frozen canal. He perceived a group of people further away, standing on the bridge. They had a large stereo and were playing loud rap music. As he got closer he could distinguish five guys in their twenty’s, from Maghrebian origins. They were making a tag on the side of the bridge. As he walked past them, Ballantine threw a quick glance their way. When one of them shouted out to him he realized he shouldn’t have looked at them. Ballantine quickened his pace but the guy shouted louder, telling him to stop. The man started to run after him and he placed his hand on Ballantine’s shoulder to stop him. Ballantine was terrified and asked, in a stammering, frightened voice, “what do you want?” The man held his hand out with a fifty euro bill in it and said “you dropped your money sir.”
AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
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