Mista T. and I soon find that the officer has pictures to show us. We feel a little bit special. He hands us screen shots off of the Walmart security camera--featuring a pregnant blonde lady, and a burly bald man. He asks us if we recognize these naughty little snakes. We don't. He then hands us a screen shot of a white Pontiac, and asks us if we recognize the vehicle. We don't. He tells us that they'll try and keep an eye out for these wallet snatchers--and advises us to do the same, and then leaves.
We try and rack our brain for possibilities of who the preggo and baldie might be . . . but we haven't got a clue.
So the evening proceeds. We head over to my parent's house for a barbecue feast.
I got myself looking presentable for the evening.
Only to have my little brother throw something at me, moments later.
And then photo bomb me.
Where am I going with this story?
Well, the plot is about to thicken. I'll let Mista T. take it from here:
We still don't know what's going to happen with all of this, but our fingers are crossed for justice.
Wish us luck!