Yorkregion.com - PenPixel - Monologue: Anthony the Hoodlum
Monologue: Anthony the Hoodlum
By: Joshua Pivato
I first heard about the East Side Hoodlums when I was 16 years old. My older brother Joseph was a part of their gang. I lived in one of the scummier complexes in the Bronx but we managed to get by. My father died when I was 12 years old. My mother was just making a living as a waitress at a bar on 34th Street. That’s the first reason Joseph joined the Hoodlums, to get us extra money to pay the rent.
It was a dark Sunday afternoon when my brother Joseph was killed… I remember it like it was yesterday. Joseph was standing outside on the road when four teenagers in silver jackets ran up to him. I saw that they all had knives and tried to scream. Nothing came out. They stabbed my brother before he could run and they continued stabbing him until he was dead. They stood over his body and said “That’s for you, Hoodlum!” I will never forget those words. On that day I swore to take revenge on the people who did this and I later decided that the only way to do it was by joining the gang which my brother had been a part of – the Hoodlums.
All of the Hoodlums hung out in the alley behind Charlie’s Bistro. I knew I would find them there and went and introduced myself as Joey’s little brother. I told them what had happened. For three years I had been a part of the odd jump or brawl and had done a couple of convenience store robberies. But now that I was 19, I was given a chance to prove myself and earn my black leather jacket making me an official Hoodlum. My job was to rough-up a two-bit punk Basher who owed the boss of the Hoodlums some money.
My friend Pete and I were sent to go do it. When we got to the alley, we saw him out back smoking by himself. I knew at this moment that this was the chance to avenge my bothers death. As I looked at his bright silver jacket it reminded me of the guys who had killed Joey and it made me mad.
We walked up to the Basher and Pete grabbed him by his coat. As Pete held him against the wall, I demanded the money from him. The Basher pulled out some crumpled bills from his pocket and tossed them to me. Pete took the money from me and dropped the kid. “Let’s roll!” Pete said. Then he took off down the alley.
I would have followed, but I had one last thing to do. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my knife. I flipped it open and said to him “That’s for you Basher,” while I slid the blade along his stomach. I took off down the alley and didn’t look back. I felt so proud of myself.
As we were driving back to the lower east-side of the Bronx it started to rain. I thought about the Basher I had stabbed but I didn’t feel like I had my revenge. It was then it occurred to me… what if that Basher has a brother or a sister? What if his parents never see him again? Suddenly a horrible feeling came over me and I felt sick to my stomach.
It was only the next day that I was arrested. I was taken down to the police station and taken into the interrogation room. On the table I saw my knife in a plastic bag which read “Evidence”. It was bloodstained. I realized then that I had been so nervous when I stabbed the Basher that I had dropped my knife. I was told his name was Phil.
As I now sit in my holding cell I look out into the waiting area. I see a woman and her son sobbing while they are talking to the police. In the eyes of the boy I see the same look I had in my eyes when Joey died. This was Phil’s brother, I had killed someone’s brother… what have I done?