I was standing in front of the pawnshop microwave, watching my Bar-S Franks spin in a circle when I heard the "BANGCLANK!" outside. I looked out the tool room window and saw a sweaty black face with bulging eyes looking back. He was clutching his arm close to his chest, bobbing and weaving in the parking lot, looking behind him all the time.

I put some spicy brown on my franks and sat down to eat. Aunt Cheryl was on the phone with Grandma, asking about her trip when the sweaty black face ran through the front door.

"Please help me! They shootin' at me, tryin' to kill me! I've been shot! Call 911! My name Percy Lloyd Campbell Jr. the Fourth, and they said I was a molester but they wouldn't tell me nothin' about it ANDNOWTHEYSHOOTINATME!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Mom, I better let you go, everything is fine, but I've got to call 911." She hung up and looked Percy Lloyd Campbell Jr. the Fourth in the eyes. "Hon, who's shootin' at you?"

"EVERYBODY! THEY KNOCKED ME OFF THAT HORSE! SHOT ME IN THE ARM! CALL 911!" Percy ran to the back of the shop at full tilt, bobbing and weaving the whole time.

Tom came out of his office, hand on the pistol in his pocket. Cheryl walked between Tom and Percy, locked eyes with Percy. "Hon, you're gonna hafta calm down. You can't be runnin' around in here. I'm callin' 911 right now, but I need you to come up front and sit down."

"I CAIN'T! THEY'LL SHOOT ME THROUGH THE WINDOW!"

Cheryl got him in a chair, and called 911. The dispatcher figured out we had a crazy on our hands right quick. "We got a 10-96 down at Cheryl's pawnshop guys, better hustle. Cheryl, stay on line with me until they get there."

A Pentecostal family wandered in to compare pistols just as Percy decided that our novelty hand-grenade "complaint department" was an immediate threat and repeated his bob and weave dash to the opposite corner, yellin' "OH JESUS! I DON'T WANNA GET BLOWED UP!"

"It's not always like this in here," I said to the Pentecostals, "and the police are on their way, and as long as you don't point the laser grip his direction, I think we're all cool."

"THEY SHOT ME OFF MY HORSE! I BROKE MY ARM!"

"What horse are you talkin' about Percy? The horse next door," Cheryl asked.

Percy nodded and clutched his arm tighter to his chest, sucked air through his teeth to demonstrate his agony. Cheryl walked next door to investigate. She came back holding a bronze ear aloft for everyone to see.

"He knocked that eight-thousand dollar horse statue over, broke it's ear off," she announced to the shop. "Percy! What happened to the horse?"

"I PUNCHED IT AND IT FELL OVER! I WANT TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL! IT BROKE MY ARM!"

The parking lot soon filled up with black and whites and a lonely ambulance. The EMT pressed on Percy's arm and determined that he had not been shot, and all the bones were intact.The head officer had met Percy before, knew him well enough to know his real name was Langston.

"Langston, did you dip your cigarette in PCP!"

"YEAH MAN!"

"What did I tell you about that stuff," the officer asked, not waiting for an answer. "Langston, did you knock that horse over?"

"YEAH I DID! Say officer, why don't you give me a cigarette?"

"I don't smoke. Stand up for me, nice and slow, put your hands behind your back."

"I WANNA GO TO THE HOSPITAL AND YOU BETTER GIVE ME A CIGARETTE!"

"I told you, I don't smoke," the officer said, cuffing him. As he led him to the squad car he said, "You're going to the hospital, and back to the county jail."

When they were gone, everyone stood around and rehashed their favorite Percy moments. A different dispatcher called to find out why we didn't shoot him. I sold the Pentecostals a gun, then made a fresh pot of coffee.