First person is getting easier I think. Present tense is not... Anyway, here's some more.

Warning: Harsh themes

Diary of a CajoleMan

The men are all wearing black. Why black? I have a grey suit and red tie over white shirt. Even Joseph is dressed happier than these guys. Joseph looks like he is smoother than micheal Jackson. The smirk he has plastered to his face makes me grin even though we are surrounded by three groups of men from three different gangs.

"I'm Mr. Krow. This is my son Joe." I say.

"Joseph, If you would." Joseph interupts me. Rude.

"We argue a lot over that. Anyway, I see you each plan to give me a sum. Highest bidder." I smile.

"I will give you thirty thousand each without looking at them." Says the man to my right.

"I will give you forty thousand." Says the man to my left. Suddenly there are guns pointing at us. I grab Joseph and pull him back behind me and throw my hands up.

"How many parties are represented here?" One of the gunmen ask.

"Four, includeing yourself." I say," We don't want trouble."

"Then there will not be any. Everyone who is not Mr. Krow or his son should leave." The other men all leave as fast as they can. White collar criminals do not like guns. Suddenly I am hit in the chest with a gun and fall heavily to my knees. I feel hands in my hair, straightening me up so that I can feel a blade on my troat," Where are the paintings?" He asks me.

"Wait! They are my paintings." Joseph says beside me,"He doesn't know where they are."

"What do we care? How about you give us the paintings or be sprayed with daddy's blood."

"Actually that doesn't matter. I don't love him. Let's talk paintings and green." I can see the boy's smile from the corner of my eyes. I may have created a monster but that monster just saved my life. The blade is lowered, maybe in amusement since it lingers near my chest.

"Kid. That's guts. Let me look at the paintings." The blade moves from my view and I let out a sigh. Joseph is walking to the canvas and uncovers the many beautful the man hit's Joseph across the face and then I am hit to the ground. I lay and watch as they load the paintings into a truck. When I am finally able to sit up I grab Joseph and pull him in a hug close to my chest.

"You alright?" I asked. He barely nods but is close to succuming when the FBI run in. The truck speeds off, leaving two men. Joseph and I are thrown, none too lightly to the ground and handcuffed. Peter is behind me, picking me up, guiding me to the car. Joseph is struggling more than I am. He may be disoriented. Well, I am supposed to be his suedo step father," Joseph! Don't fight! Don't fight!"

Jones slams him to the trunk and I see his face, his hair is out of the way of those shining blue eyes as he grins the cockyest grin I have ever seen and I am shoved into Peter's car. We speed off as I lay my head on the window.

"Worst idea ever." I mumble as the pain starts to throb in my head increasingly.

"Did you have a better one?" Petere asks.

"No. Kid's hurt though. Need to get him checked out." I am haveing trouble talking at this point so I close my eyes against the throb. I open them and see Peter in front of me saying something. What is he saying?

"Neal! NEAL! STAY WITH ME!" He shouts as my world fades to black.

I wonder how...

Thanks for reading. Review?