Dark Side
Everyone’s got a dark side. You say you don’t, you’re lying. We can argue it’s more a sin you lying to yourself or trying to make me believe you’re the Virgin Mary or Saint Stephen.
Felt stupid disguised that way. Bag lady or street woman. Dunno. Whatever.
—
That summich caught me coming home one evening. Alone. I’d cut through Gustaff Green. He took my money and my watch. Might have stabbed me or worse if the project kids hadn’t come to shoot baskets on the court next to where his humongous knife eyed my throat.
—
My disguise was flawless. Two older gents gave me all their pocket change. Little over two bucks. Good-sized crowd gathered, waiting on the band in the gazebo. One gussied-up lah-de-dah witch bumped into me. She bumped into me. Said it was my fault accounta I was a street person. Gave me two bucks to get shed of me. Figured a couple more uncomfortable citizens, I’d get me a Starbucks when I left.
—
He was there. Saw him come in. Checking the crowd for his next score.
—
I found a couple of project kids. Kids into and out of police stations. Savvy that’s not where they wanna go again.
“Hey, you wanna make a Jackson?”
“Lady, wassamatter your voice? Somebody poke you in the throat or something?”
“Nah. Say, you wanna have some fun?”
“Sure. Whaddaya mean?”
“Scare the shit out of all these tight-assed citizens.”
“Well, unh, sure.”
Reached into my bag. “These firecrackers here?…”
“Little ones. Not much bang.”
“Pop and sputter. It’s timing. At the right time, the surprise’ll make these citizens shit their pants.”
“Why?”
“I owe some of these righteous creeps.”
“Be fun. Deal.”
“Wait till I give the signal.” I handed a long string of firecrackers to each kid. Gave one a twenty and turned to leave.
The Twenty spoke, “Lady?”
“What?”
“What signal?”
“Yeah. See that man over there?”
“Leather jacket? Shady dude?”
“Yep.”
“I bump into him, you light the firecrackers.”
“You gonna lift from him? Maybe we could deal?”
“Nah. It’s personal.”
“Cool. Got it.”
—
Woulda been fitting using a knife like the summich when he mugged me. Didn’t have the crust for it. Miss the soft spot of his belly, hit a rib, he’d take the knife split me open like the prom queen spreading her legs for the star quarterback.
Took me a week to find a gun. All that gun law bullshit. No guns, no killings. What crap. Any kid from the project can get you a gun. The kids aren’t crooks. They’re capitalists.
—
Made sure the kids saw me. The bastard came right on cue.
“Unh! Lady! Watch it.”
Pop pop poppity-pop-pop!
The crown turned. He started to, but stopped when I pressed the gun hard into his chest.
Pop!
Took him forever to fall. Long enough I turned and made my way through the crowd busy watching the project kids’ fireworks.
Gonna keep the gun.
Now. About that Starbucks.
—
© 2023 spwilcenski
Exposed by spwilcenwrites “Bag Lady – May 23, 2023” until 5/30/2023
Ramblings 