◉ 047 | I Was a Bad Boy II

1995.

We targeted a yard

two streets

from ours.

The owner,

notorious

Boro Glavandin.

He was a weirdo.

Maybe even

a bit crazy.

Crazy as us

for planning to enter

his den at high noon.

Boro was big

as a bear.

His face—

always red.

Not sure

if it was

a skin condition

or shitty food.

Or maybe

too much grappa?

We knew the way in.

Inside his

prison-like,

tall walls.

We helped each other

climb onto his garage.

Went through the hole

in the rusty

chain-link fence,

being careful

not to get caught

in the barbed wire.

We stood at the top,

looking down

at his yard

and his house.

One flight

of an ochre metal staircase

led to it.

The prize was waiting

in the middle.

A short pomegranate tree

full of fruit.

So full that the lower branches

were touching the ground.

It seemed

Boro didn’t like

pomegranates.

Darko went down

the metal stairs first,

trying to be as silent

as possible.

We were giggling

from the top.

He picked a big,

juicy pomegranate

and came back

to the top of the stairs.

Cigo went after him.

He was silent and quick

like a panther.

Picked a fruit

that was already

cracked open.

I was salivating.

We were conscious

fruit thieves.

We had two rules—

no broken branches,

and

take only what you can eat.

It was

my turn.

My heart started

racing.

I went down

the metal stairs,

aimed for the largest

pomegranate.

It was high,

so I needed to pull

the branch down.

It cracked

as I pulled it

too hard.

Fuck.

Darko and Cigo

quickly crawled back

through the fence

and jumped from the garage.

I could no longer

see them.

But I could see

a massive body

between me

and the bottom

of the stairs.

That was my only

way out.

I was trapped.

Boro was so red

in the face,

like he would explode.

“You little cunt,”

he said

through his teeth.

I went into panic mode.

Dropped the pomegranate,

trying to act quickly.

Boro was so angry

he started running

towards me

with bad intentions.

His face—

distorted.

I was a very nimble kid.

Picked the fruit

from the ground,

and steered hard left

to avoid the velocity

of his big body.

I ran across the yard,

aiming for the bottom

of the stairs.

Then I felt it.

A massive,

grizzly-like smack

on my right shoulder blade,

ripping my T-shirt off.

I flew over the stairs,

slipped through the fence,

and jumped back onto the street—

dropping the pomegranate

again.

It cracked open.

I blew the dirt off.

Large,

gem-like seeds

smiled at me.

Ruby-red

in colour.

As red as my

right shoulder blade.