Preppin’ hype steppin’ up to the crew pull back the action check the safety ‘SOFF BOYEEEE Keith had been on the outside ‘lil over a week, and it wasn’t gon stick. Not for him. Then Slimy Bob calls with a new score, a score so big it would be the end. Except it wasn’t going to be the end, because the sun never sets on those that ride into it.
Keith put together his crew. Those foos back in the day got him clipped, so he needed a real crew. Asian guy, check. Black guy, check. Woman, check. Asian woman, don’t be ridiculous. This wasn’t 1994, this was 2025, and so a bunch of pasty faced bros warn’t gonna cut it. You needed a new crew to fit the new age, and we’re talking age of crime, not hippie bullshit.
Weeks of prep, drills, team building exercises with the woman, where the team was dem nuts. They were gonna PAY for putting Keith in the clink, and they were the banks. The man. The MONEY.
Go time.
Keith and crew charge into the bank. “On the ground! You know the drill, do what we say and nobody gets hurt! Put the money in the bag!”
“Ummm... What? We don’t have any money here.”
“We know you have the money, you’re a bank!”
“Sir, this is the West Bank. We don’t have any money. We have the opposite of money: Kids. Are you here to take our kids?!”
“No.”
“You bastard!! How DARE you take our precious little ones!”
“I don’t want your kids.”
“Children, I’m so sorry, but this western imperialist pig-dog and his guns are demanding you go with him! We’ll miss you so much!! There are NOT jillions more where you came from, and you are NOT replaceable! We will have our revenge, western scum!!”
“Revenge for what?! We’re leaving. Without any kids.”
“Your parents love youuuuuuuu almost as much as they hate this western demon!” were the last words as the kids were booted into the getaway car as the rubber started peeling.
Thus, Keith made his way back to the united states, without the money, but with 30 kids.
The first rule of no money is to turn it into money. Keith got Slimy Bob on the horn. “Yo Bob! I got thirty kids I need to dump on the black market.”
“Coolcoolcool. I’ll be able to clear an easy 250K. Gimme the deets.”
“Just to be clear, these kids WILL be going to loving families, right?”
“Um, sure. Whaddya got? USDA prime cali blond? I can get extra for that.”
“They’re from the West Bank.”
“What?”
“The kids are from the West Bank.”
“Oh. Let me barf.” BAAAAAAAAAAAAARF. “So... Uh... The current going rate for a West Bank kid is negative 10K. I’ll need 300K from you to take them off your hands.”
“I don’t have that kind of money!”
“Then I’m not taking the damn kids!” *click*
When did cell phones start making clicking noises when you hung up?!
So the unofficial channels were out. Time to hit the official channels. Keith made his way into the building of government services and awesomeness.
“Hey, I got 30 kids that are requesting asylum.”
“Great! What are we talking? Schizo, psychosis, or old fashioned pee in the face?”
“Not that kind of asylum. The kind where their country is too dangerous so they want to go to the United States to be safe.”
“Are those the kids?”
“Yeah.”
“Caint.”
“What?”
“Title 42 says they caint apply for asylum to the united states while they’re currently in the united states.”
“Title Moby Dick says ‘Call me Ishmael’, bitch. Listen, those kids can’t go back to their home country in order to apply for asylum. They’ll probably be killed.”
“Not my problem.”
“It might not be your problem, but can’t it be your solution?”
“Why would I want to solve a problem that’s not mine?”
“To be nice?”
“This isn’t Niceland, jerkoff. This is EARTH. Now take your smelly kids and get the fuck out of here before I call ICE.”
So Keith took the kids and got the fuck out, and the guy called ICE anyway. EARTH.
Agent T and company scoped out the property. They got a tip that a bunch of illegals were ILLEGALYING IT UP here at the residence of “Keith”. They were probably gang members. It was go time! Unfortunately, the ICE agents were unaware that, back in the day, they called him Ke “Kevin McAllister” ith, because his house was covered in so many traps a mouse would go insane.
As in he lay in the bed of punji sticks, Agent T glanced over at the marbles that had done him in. To the right, one of his colleagues had their face caved in by a paint can, and over to the left, somebody had been cut in half by some tape. Agent T’s final thoughts were that perhaps 15 years as a line cook at sizzler weren’t sufficient training to be a government agent. But the steaks... Were... So... Cheap.
Keith and kids fled to SoCal, where Keith found a school known to enroll ‘less than legal’ children. Keith went to talk to the principal. “Hey! This is Keith. I want to enroll 30 kids.”
“We see them. Pass.”
“What?”
“We don’t want your kids.”
“Why not?”
“Quite frankly... They’re dirty.”
“They don’t fuck each other! Much.”
“I mean they’re literally covered in dirt. The kids we enroll might not be strictly legal, but they’re clean. Hardworking.”
“Is that why all your ‘students’ are picking oranges?”
“Don’t you worry about that. The point is, your children are just... Blech. No thanks.”
School was out. Principal was an ass, but he had one thing right. Kids had to earn. So Keith turned them into a fleet of pickpockets, until an old guy rolled up on him.
“Oi! Listen, ya right tosser! They call me the Fartful Codger. This is MY turf. If anyone’s running a gang of pinchers, it’s ME. So take your bleedin’ kids and leave!”
*Brap* *brap* *brap* <----- not a gun.
“Uh, you can have the kids for your gang.”
“Are you mento?! I got me own bloody tykes to worry about. You just take off or you’re getting the ol’ boot straight in the john thomas what.”
Keith called Jim “Sound of Freedom” Ballard.
“Hey Jim, I, uh, ‘rescued’ thirty kids.”
“Good on you!”
“What do I do with them?”
“What?”
“You saved all those kids, right? What did you do with them?”
“I’m not really involved in that end of things. I’m sure they’re with great families, because THE GOVERNMENT TOTALLY SUCKS.”
“Well, who do I contact to do that for my kids?”
“Like I said, I’m not involved with that end.”
“Can you give me a phone number?”
“Not involved.”
“Did you really save those kids?”
“Sure did!”
“What were their names?”
“Ummm... Let’s see... Kofi Kupp... Vindo Glass... Egg McMuffin...”
“I am getting the sense... that you are actually trash.”
“Sorry, gotta run! THE GOVERNMENT TOTALLY SUCKS! Magaaaaaaa!”
*click*
There was one last shot. Opening night at the kevin james memorial theater. Keith and Kids Improv Comedy Troupe.
“Okay kids, this is it, your last shot. Here’s the scene. Sh’Bleeb, you’re a tortoise that’s in a race with a rabbit. Pez, you’re a construction worker on break. GO!”
“Uh... Hey there missus... Um, tortoise. How is the race going?”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“You go fuck yourself.”
“Nope.”
“Aaaaaaaaaaand scene!!” Keith beamed, “You did it! You’re finally Americans!”
The End.