Somewhere in America, a young man walked the streets of Chicago, alone, save for his true companion, a pistol, which he had close by his side, inside his waistband, to be exact. The man, Terrion Pouncy, had a mission. His mission was to boldly go where no Florida man had ever gone before, to out-Florida-man the ubiquitous Florida man.
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And so Pouncy had devised a clever scheme, a scheme that would cost him greatly, but bring with it the fame, the adoration, the ridicule, the shock, the awe that committing really stupid crimes often gives those who are fortunate enough to pull it off. And the beauty of the scheme is he didn’t have to worry about getting caught, because getting caught was the cincher in the Florida-man-crime-heist scenario he was looking pull off.
This event happened last Tuesday, October 31th, 2017. That’s right, this story happened on Hallow-freaking-ween, so you know it’s GOT to be good. And yes, I know, it’s almost a week old by the time I’m writing about it and I am aggrieved that I somehow missed this lulz-tastic story last week. This story is so filled with the iLulz there’s NO WAY I could pass it up, even if it was a week-old story.
So our hero, the wanna-be-Florida-man, Terrion Pouncy, zeroed in on his prey, a hotdog stand. It was a crisp morning on Halloween day. The Queen song wafted through his head (or at least mine, in my re-imagining of this event), “Pounce wondered down the street, his wiener hanging low, nothing but the sound, the sound of his feet, his pistol ready to go.” You’ll get the wiener reference in a moment.
But let me ask you, did you sing along in your head? If not, here, here’s some help:
(Imagine the song retitled, Another One Bites the Dog):
Terrion Pouncy, or Pounce for short (for the sake of the song, Another One Bites the Dog), zeroed in on his quarry. He ripped his trusty .38 out of his waistband and held up the hotdog stand. He knew he wasn’t going to get away, because he knew what he had to do to make himself Florida-man-worthy.
Pouncy pulled the gun on the victim of the wanna-be-Florida man scheme, who, assessing that a .38 pointed in your head was NOT a cool thing to argue with, decided to comply. So he called on his fellow hotdogstander to join in assisting him in complying with the Pounce man, Terrion himself.
Well, wallets were passed, a stack of singles were passed, but then, a bucket of cash tipped over, sending the quarry, the cash, into the capricious chance of Chicago’s great winds. Of course, that means it was raining money up in there, up in there.
The nonplussed Pouncy kept his .38 pointed at the hotdogstanders, and while he did so, he bent his knees to attempt to retrieve the bills now dancing in the air, as well as the bills that had completed their Chicago Windy City dance, resting on the cold sidewalk, aching to be retrieved.
At this point, one of the restaurant employees saw an opportunity to try to stop Pouncy. And so a struggle ensued. Little did he realize THIS WAS THE PLAN ALL ALONG. Yes, the wanna-be-Florida-man-plan was working like science. And now, all that remained was for Pouncy to reach for his gun, which he had somehow placed back in his waistband during the struggle. It at this point that Pouncy “inadvertently” pulled the trigger of his trust .38.
This is where he did what he had to do. He “accidently” shot himself in the…well…the…how do I say this? The…the…PENIS! Pouncy shot himself in the penis, which is not how you rob places, by the way, but it IS how you get to be Florida Man from Chicago.
Pouncy managed to slunk off, with some of the cash, and the wallets. But he was not able to get very far in his effort to run away. He rather flopped along for a bit before he slumped to the ground, brutally meeting steps in front of a home just across from the restaurant he just robbed, West Pullman.
The cops closed in on Pouncy as he watched the folks at West Pullman observe that he was not running, because he had just put a .38 caliber-sized hole into his penis.
The robbery, alas, was caught on camera, and it included audio. The police found the stolen wallets, along with the .38, on Pouncy. Also, his blood stained boxers were an exact visual match for the ones in the video surveillance. So yeah, he’s pretty much, pardon the pun, boned.
The moral of the story is this, don’t be so cocksure when you have a .38 pointed at your penis. Or…..don’t shoot your wiener when you’re robbing a wiener stand unless you, too, want to someday be featured on the iLulz story of the day.