Chapter 17 true story

It was about nine o'clock in the evening when he left the mansion.It had been dark outside for quite some time, and there were few pedestrians.He waited to let a few cars pass, then crossed the street to where his classic car was parked. At first he didn't notice the two young women until they spoke. "Sir." One of them greeted. He looked over the roof of the classic car, and the one who spoke was a blonde woman in her twenties, about 1.6 meters tall; behind her was a thin black woman, the same age as the previous one Almost just taller than her.Both were wearing faded jeans and white tops.

"What's the matter?" he asked, pausing his hand on the door handle. "Can you give us a lift?" "Where are you going?" he asked. "St. Louis," the blonde replied. He planned to go to the supermarket next to St. Louis on his way home.Their destination was only a few blocks from his path. "Of course, please get in the car." He got into the car, reached out and opened the door on the other side.The two humbly let each other sit in the front seat, and finally both of them squeezed into the front seat.The blonde woman is in the center, her shoulders look very smooth, and there is a small butterfly tattooed on her left elbow.

The world is changing so fast. He remembers when he was seventeen years old, when he came home with a tattoo on his arm, his parents screamed at him when he saw it; He started the car and hit the road.After passing two broad streets, the car turned into a small back road, where he relaxed a lot.He was about to turn a corner into a dark tunnel when the blond woman suddenly yelled, "Stop!" He braked the car and leaned against the side of the road.The blond woman was holding a hunting knife, the point of which was half a foot from his throat. "Hand over the money." She lowered her voice, her voice was a little nervous.

He was at a loss for a while, and he never dreamed that he would be the target of robbery. Others might, but it wouldn't be him. "If I don't have the money, am I going to get out of this car alive?" he asked. "Tell you, I just came out of that nasty place, and didn't you two just come out of there?" The two women exchanged glances. "How do you know!" the black woman asked. "That was the first place to desegregate," he said. "Where else do you trust each other, white and black, except in prisons? This is the first time you've come out and tried your luck, isn't it?"

"Why do you think that?" asked the blond woman. "Because you don't know what you're doing," he said, a little confidently. "What do you know about this kind of thing?" The black woman had a puzzled and impatient expression. "Knows everything, very expert." He said, turning his face to the blond woman, "Take the way you hold the knife, it is half a foot away from my throat, you should press hard against my throat or my waist, and you should sit in the back seat of the car, so that it is not easy to be found when you strike." The blond woman still holds the knife. "Makes sense."

"Of course it makes sense," he said proudly. "There are two more questions." "Really, let's hear it." The black woman's tone softened a lot. "You two are not dressed properly." "What do you mean?" asked the blond woman. "Your clothes are too thin and the color is too light. If you have to use a knife, you have to be very close to it, so it is easy to get blood on your body. If you have to use a knife, in case you encounter the other party's stupid behavior, the color of your clothes Darker ones are easier to hide the bloodstains."

"Also," the black woman asked, "didn't you say there are two problems?" "Yes, another problem is that you want money, not someone to talk to. You should try to get the money as much as possible without talking too much nonsense with the other party. You just need to stab the other party and tell him, Stop talking nonsense, or let him go in with a white knife and come out with a red knife, and let him hand over all valuable things, or whatever. As long as you do well, he will be too scared to make a sound, dare not dawdle, dare not do something Something that shouldn't be done."

At this time, the black woman had already opened the car door and got out of the car, and the blonde woman also slid down and put the knife in her bag. "What are you going to do?" he asked. "Change," said the blond woman. He nodded, and then advised: "Young man, do things seriously to make money, and don't cause trouble." "It's the same for you, don't let people give you a ride." The blond woman retorted. As soon as the blond woman closed the car door, he drove off in a flash. According to the original plan, he drove home after shopping in the supermarket. When he entered the house, he couldn't help blowing his whistle.

His wife asked aloud from the kitchen, "You sound like you're in a good mood. How's your novel going?" "I've written the most painful part," he replied. His wife came out of the kitchen and handed him a glass of wine. "Is it the chapter about the robbery halfway? You always feel that the chapter is not in line with reality." He took a sip of his drink and said with a smile: "Now I think it's realistic enough; actually, I'm pretty sure it's realistic."