Blood and Murder in that Place Where I Used to Feel Safe.

Feeding the Flames of Hate to Another River of Blood

I’ve eaten there.

The Chinese restaurant in Sheepshead Bay.

I’ve eaten there and in the neighboring restaurants hundreds of times, probably thousands. When I was nine, I went fishing off the pier right across the street from it with my cousin. (We both lived about 10 blocks away from the place). As an adult, I ate there with my mother on Mother’s Day along with a lovely Canadian woman I was seeing at the time. None of us were murdered that day.

A few years ago I walked past it on a date, holding hands with a woman with fiery red hair who wound up accompanying me on my adventures and exploits for a while. We got along swimmingly… until we didn’t, but it was one of the postcard nice memories of us, of which there were several, that I keep in my mind.

Here’s what that looked like.

Scenic Sheepshead Bay,… the scene of a grisly double murder.

Sheepshead Bay. I place where I grew up. A place where I always felt safe.

Specifically, the Chinese Restaurant in Sheepshead Bay, where a man suddenly started bludgeoning people to death, because they were Chinese.