Joker’s Luck

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In 1992 I went to culinary school in Baltimore.
After school I worked at Ocean City Burgers and Fries, at the Inner Harbor. After work was a long walk to my car in little Italy.
I had just passed Sabatino’s restaurant when I noticed three tall young black men coming toward me.
The one in the middle reached up and sprayed my face. I covered my face with my hands. I backed up and faced them, but I couldn’t see.
In an instant two Italian guys ran up and started swinging crowbars. They all ran off around the corner and I was alone. In the dark, eyes burning.

The two guys who saved me came walking back and the short one says,
“Why didn’t you hit the motherfucker?”
I told them I couldn’t see. They took me into their home,
helped me wash my eyes, and gave me two cream filled cannoli.
Those thugs were lucky. If I would’ve gotten my hands on my chef’s knife, I would have turned them into chopped liver.

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