why don't they let me go home? this is the worst trip i've ever been on.

i've said it thrice and i'll say it again.

i've never robbed a motherfucker in my life (came close to jacking this kid on the way back from a party years ago, but we bitched out), but the first cat i see downtown with an iPhone is gettin the hands.

the fucken hands! you fucken get me?!?! Steve Jobs could get it too!

whoever the sorry bastid might be, i'll smack 'im in the head wit a rolled up Baltimore Sun or something 'til he relinquishes his grip on the gadget, see?

or maybe i'll chloroform the geezer. yeah.

i haven't made up my mind yet. all i know is that i'm doing it. we'll get to the "how" when the time comes.

my motive?

i admit to being a bit of gadget nut, okay, fine. what red-blooded, shallow, materialistic American male could claim otherwise? techno-obsession is in my blood, you see?

but that's not what Operation Trick Or Treat is about.

oh no.

because after i secure the merchandise, the "IT" item of the summer/2007, it's back home for me, sulking about the crowded city blocks, trying to conceal the circuit laden, touchscreen gold bar in my pocket.

gonna flip that shit on ebay for like 3 grand. maybe 4. 'cuz you just know there's gonna be a shortage and shit.

i missed the boat when PlayStation 3 dropped. there was some serious scamming/price gouging to be done back then, and i just didn't man up and "get" one.

not this time friend.

can't knock da hustle!