“Oh, no, Mr. Jackson,” she said in this high voice. “Please let your servant do it.”

Then she snatched up the tea bag and put it in the garbage.

“So why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” I asked.

“Why didn’t I do that in the first place?” She bent over from the waist and looked up at me. “Who do you think I am, boy? I’m your mother, not your servant!”

I listened to that until she got tired of running it; then I split on over to the Grant. I couldn’t believe all that flap over a tea bag. I was pretty mad by the time I got to the hotel. I got the keys and went up into one of the empty rooms on the third floor and just sat in the window. I looked over towards the liquor store to see if I could see the clock. I couldn’t, and I started to turn away. But something wasn’t right. When I looked again, I could see the guy that ran the store standing close up against the shelves, and the clerk was standing right next to him. It looked like there were two other guys in there, too. One of them was a guy who delivered liquor to the store, and the other guy I didn’t recognize, but I saw he had his hand in his jacket pocket. That’s when I realized the store was being held up.

Now the truck with the booze to be delivered is outside in the street and the driver is inside being stuck up, which gave me an idea. I busted down the stairs and into the street. I look into the liquor store, and I see that the guy with his hand in his pocket and a third guy I hadn’t seen from the window are making everybody go into the back. I go over to the truck, open the back, and there’s a case of Johnnie Walker close enough to grab. I look around to see if anybody is checking me out, but the only people on the block are some kids. I cop the case of Scotch and hightail it back into the Grant and up to my room.

I figure I can get at least five dollars a bottle for the Scotch, and there are twelve bottles to a case. I’m feeling pretty good about the whole thing by the time I get the case under the bed. I go back to the window. There’s this young brother up on the truck, and I figure he’s going to cop, too. But instead of copping a case of something like I did, he takes a padlock off the truck and throws it to another kid. This kid runs up to the liquor store and puts the padlock on the door.

One of the guys inside the store sees what is going on and runs over to the door, but it’s too late. The kid has locked them all inside. Then about four or five other kids start unloading the truck. Meanwhile, the guys inside the store are banging on the window and hopping up and down and stuff. By this time it seems that half of Harlem is in on the action. One wino opens a bottle and is in the middle of the street, directing traffic. It takes about ten minutes to unload the truck. The whole block turns into a big party. Finally the cats inside the store shoot out the window just as a police car comes around the corner. There are a few shots fired, but nobody gets hurt, and soon everything is back to normal except for the glass on the street.