{"content":[{"text":"MICK AND AMANDA AND REESA AND CRAIG","bbox":{"left":0.22549,"top":0.090584,"width":0.550551,"height":0.022372000000000003}},{"text":"by Greg Stolze","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.149377,"width":0.117617,"height":0.01677899999999999}},{"text":"There’s some old saying about “Don’t fight monsters unless you want to become one,” but I \n guess I approached it from the other direction.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.202407,"width":0.751112,"height":0.03571899999999997}},{"text":"Amanda Yang got hold of me one day from out of the blue, and I thought it was just a call to \n check in on an old man, but she specifically wanted to talk face to face. She said she needed my \n help. I wasn’t going to say no.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.247862,"width":0.7542120000000001,"height":0.05465800000000001}},{"text":"I met her at a Denny’s, and she’d told me she was bringing a friend named Mick.","bbox":{"left":0.147059,"top":0.312256,"width":0.634882,"height":0.01677899999999999}},{"text":"Amanda was the same soft, plump, smiling woman in a turtleneck and earth-tone jacket, and \n sitting next to her was this stretched out guy with long hair and tattoos on his fingers.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.338771,"width":0.755212,"height":0.03571799999999997}},{"text":"“Glen, this is Mick,” she said, standing, being the mediator, exactly like you’d expect.","bbox":{"left":0.147059,"top":0.384226,"width":0.6749449999999999,"height":0.01677899999999999}},{"text":"I shook his hand, and he at least had a firm grip. He had two rings—a skull, and some kind of \n hand-and-eye thing. They were both silver.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.410741,"width":0.76291,"height":0.03571799999999997}},{"text":"He looked me right in the eye and said, “I saw you in a psychic vision.” Amanda turned \n bright red.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.456195,"width":0.7171209999999999,"height":0.035718999999999945}},{"text":"“Did you now,” I said in return.","bbox":{"left":0.147059,"top":0.50165,"width":0.248118,"height":0.01677899999999999}},{"text":"# # #","bbox":{"left":0.480392,"top":0.55468,"width":0.039216000000000084,"height":0.01677899999999999}},{"text":"The first time I killed somebody, it was personal. His name was Ben Silva, I was seventeen \n years old, and he’d humiliated my dad.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.60771,"width":0.7441899999999999,"height":0.035719000000000056}},{"text":"Bennie Silva was my father’s bookie and he was one of those extremely loud little guys. I’ve \n known lots of short men who weren’t pricks, so I’m not saying there was a correlation, but Silva \n really did seem to have that short man syndrome. Everyone figured he was lightly mobbed up \n but not in the mafia.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.653165,"width":0.758156,"height":0.07359700000000002}},{"text":"Anyhow, what went down was, I’d been late getting my driver’s license because of some \n bullshit with our car and not being able to practice, but then my dad won on some pony and \n bought our family a second car. It was a clapped-out shitbox, no doubt, but it ran most of the \n time and I could finally get in the miles and hopefully pass my test. So any time he was even \n slightly willing to let me drive him somewhere, we’d call it a lesson.","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.736498,"width":0.727487,"height":0.09253699999999998}},{"text":"Well, the Broncos were playing that Sunday and dad figured we were low on beer and chips, \n and as we’re in the store picking them up, Bennie Silva cracked wise on my dad about how he’d","bbox":{"left":0.117647,"top":0.838771,"width":0.7552669999999999,"height":0.035717999999999916}},{"text":"�1","bbox":{"left":0.495098,"top":0.928417,"width":0.00980399999999998,"height":0.01677899999999999}}],"images_bbox":[],"images_bbox_not_text_overlap":[]}