Ryan Lochte may or may not have been robbed at gunpoint in Brazil.
Many aren't believing the story.
Well, as luck might have it, I have a little experience in this regard.
I actually included the story in my wonderful book Dogs On Main Street.
I swear that every word is true!
I lived in a little rat's nest apartment next to a gas station in the great town of Lackawanna. I still drive by that apartment now and again and try to think back to those days. Marriage has wiped out most of the happiness of living alone.
I barely opened my eyes each morning. I would pull on a shirt and shorts and make my way through the parking lot to the convenience store. I would make my coffee over there and grab the newspapers.
The guy who worked there was a little lazy about everything. He knew that I'd be there each morning and most of the time we would have our morning conversation as he did his morning duty and I yelled at him about sports through the locked bathroom door.
I would very often just leave my money on the counter (he stopped charging me for coffee after a few months).
Yet, I always warned him about leaving the place unattended as he spent time in that bathroom. He didn't care. I told him that someone was going to rob him blind one day.
"What're they gonna' take? The air fresheners?" He asked.
He was actually a good dude and I based Rolando on him (and my good buddy Pops) in Dogs On Main Street.
Well, one day I walked in and the register was unattended. I was heading for the coffeemaker and yelling for the guy when I heard him actually clear his throat.
He was laying on the floor.
"What the F___?" I asked.
He motioned with his head and I looked up to see a guy wearing a Ronald Reagan Halloween mask. He was holding a clearly plastic gun, but it made me jump nonetheless.
"On the ground," he growled.
I laid down next to my buddy.
"You have any money?" Reagan asked.
"The dollar I left on the counter," I said.
He scooped it up. Then he got the register open. There was less than $10 in the drawer.
Then he scooped up about twenty packs of cigarettes and took every single one of the air fresheners.
"Count to 100 before you get up!" He yelled.
And he was out the door.
I started laughing.
"He took the air fresheners."
"Shut up," he said.
"You know the gun was plastic, right?" I asked.
"It won't be when I tell the story," the guy said. "We were just robbed at gunpoint."
I got my coffee and papers and left.
They were on the house.
Now, unlike Lochte's story...
...some of that is true.
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