It was a normal Boston morning, chilly and looking dreary. I was on the way to pick up my papers like every other day when I saw a mysterious figure. I knew I was soaked when I saw his face. It was Johnson. We made eye contact and he pulled back his coat. On his side was a huge pistol. I immediately took off in the other direction. I ran to the street I knew better than anybody, 3rd Street. I hadn’t even done anything wrong so I didn’t know why they were chasing me. All I did was take a few extra papers. I went down one of the back alleys and I thought I was home free. That’s when I saw Johnson’s thugs. They quickly apprehended me and beat the snot out of me. Then they dragged me off to their paddy wagon. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar looking kid with a big pouch of money. I remember beating up a few days before but I couldn’t remember what for. I then put two and two together and realized he was the one who turned me in. In a fit of anger I pulled free from the thugs, smacked that lowlife a good one to the face and took his reward money. I was free again.