“Come on,” Jillette said. “Steal something from me.”
Again, Robbins begged off, but he offered to do a trick instead. He instructed Jillette to place a ring that he was wearing on a piece of paper and trace its outline with a pen. By now, a small crowd had gathered. Jillette removed his ring, put it down on the paper, unclipped a pen from his shirt, and leaned forward, preparing to draw. After a moment, he froze and looked up. His face was pale.
“Fuck. You,” he said, and slumped into a chair.
Robbins held up a thin, cylindrical object: the cartridge from Jillette’s pen.
BitterOldPunk: I don't know why he chose to break into houses when he could've just gone to the mall and made twice the money with half the risk picking pockets.
“... I see a guy walking down the street with his wife and I want to beat her purse, I’ll walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, Coach, how you doing?,’ and I’ll reach across his wife to shake his hand. She gonna look straight into his face and be, like, ‘When were you a coach?’ And he gonna be looking back and forth between her and me, saying, ‘What coach?’ That’s when my hand goes into her purse, and I beat her.”
whatgorilla: Watching the coin on the shoulder routine with the benefit of rewinding it, you can see a lot.
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