Yup. As in Mugged.
As in Jacked.
As in Robbed.
As in, a group of people threatened me, beat me up and stole my stuff.
It was about five people. Of course, linke your average inner-city kid, I was flat broke. The complete contents of my pocket were a rosary, 11 cents, a sharpened pencil (Severely chewed on as I usually do) , an old dogtag I found, and an eraser that got broken in half.
No money or phone or anything. So they took my bookbag. I told them there was nothing worth any money in that either, but they took it anyway. So they got my Daily Roman Missal, my English Hymnal, my copy of S.Louis Marie de Montfort's True Devotion, a change of clothes and my most prized possession, my breviary.
I'll never get another like it because it was printed in 1969 and they only made 400 copies. Even then, it was beat up and worn out, but having used it for years and made it my own, I got attached to it. Afterward, I walked away while they rummaged through it. Then they called after me. I figured they realized it really was nothing in there and were coming for me, so I jetted and ran down 63'rd, cut down Media and made a turn down another side street. I went up haverford ave. to 63'rd, then I made a left down Girard ave. and then went down Felton till I got home. Obviously, I lost them.
At least I kept my cool, tried not to look afraid and played it off, even if inside I was rembering all the timed I got jacked when I was a little kid in grade school. (Joe was never much of a fighter. Dad saw that I was a nerd, so he taugh the older boys how to fight and he told me how to run.)