Our neighbor was killed this week, and his death is still a mystery.
No one saw it happen, but it might have been like this:
The cable guy saw him in the road and stopped at the bodega.
The chef remembered the wiseass who was talking about entrepreneurs and elites.
Chef told the cable guy, two guys walked into the deli, and ….
A corner bodega near the train station. Early morning.
The Chef stands behind the deli counter, watching the morning news.
Enter Patrick and Big.
Patrick:
Hi, how ya doing, I’d like a chicken fajita and a Coke.
Big:
Good morning, I’ll have the steak salsa burrito and a BumSteer. Hey, Pat, I didn’t know you ate that alien food.
Patrick:
Hey, Biggie, that burrito isn’t wearing a “Made in USA” label, is it? You know, I can’t see anything in this whole store that was made here in the states. Not even the people. I know PR was gonna be the fifty-second state, but these folks don’t look that shade of tan to me.
Big:
These folks here are our entrepreneurial elites, who CREATE jobs for the poor schmucks like your friends over there. These citizens of tomorrow came straight from Mumbai and Seoul to grad school at MIT and Wharton.
Patrick:
Yeah, they can afford to go there; they’ve got the cash. My kid couldn’t even get enough loans this year to keep goin’ at Rutgers. How do you know who these new people are? What did you do, sign their immigration papers?
Big:
These guys don’t need sponsors; they’ve got credit limits like you dreamed of when you flipped your house. Now that you mention it, they asked about buying up some of the dilapidated houses around here, doing a little free slum clearance. Didn’t you used to live over there?
Patrick:
Hey, Biggie, you know damn well I only lost that house because my wife got laid off from her guard job, after I got laid off when the shop closed. There was no way our kind of custom work was gonna compete with these big chains that bang it out for nothin’. After ten years of paying the mortgage, I couldn’t get a live person to sit down with and work out a re-fi.
Dawn, along the Water.
GreatGroundhogWoodchuck, to JrWoodchuck:
Get your fat ass out of that nest and go get us some breakfast.
The Great Egret has spoken to us and said:
Find your sustenance within sight of your neighbors, that you may feast together in the time of abundance.
And then he told us:
Gather extra rations and nesting supplies into your stores, so you may have provisions in the time of want which shall surely come despite your independence from the flocks with strong safety nets.
JrWoodchuck:
Yeah, Grandma, we had that Locavore stuff in school last year. And that guy with the real nice boat said that folks who collect food stamps and welfare and unemployment are eatin’ for free and he’s paying for them. He says nobody gives him nothin’ and he hates paying for all these freeloaders.
GreatGroundhogWoodchuck:
You get moving and you don’t come back until you’ve got breakfast AND lunch for us and the baby.
And I want it all fresh, torn up this morning. And you stay away from those trash cans. Don’t you ever come around here again with that greasy stuff in the waxy wrapper. Your poor mother died trying to chew that plastic.
JrWoodchuck:
Yeah, Grandma, that was back in the Great Powdered Precipitation. This kid, Box, in my language class says the world is getting so hot already that all the fish are going to go away and all my best weeds are gonna die.
GreatGroundhogWoodchuck:
The Great Egret said:
To each member of society, much is given. From every member, more is expected. For you shall provide not only for yourselves, but for your ancestors, whether or not legally married, and for your progeny, whether natural or true, and for your significant others of either gender, whether or not betrothed, married, divorced, or contracted in civil partnership.
JrWoodchuck:
You know, Grandma, that Egret of yours talks like some bird out of a book. If I wanted to hear that stuff, I’d go read Atwood or somebody. At least, she’s got a sense of humor.
Sign beyond guard post is visible from the bus stop:
“DANGER, PRIVATE PROPERTY, DO NOT ENTER”
On the bus.
Abigail and Irene are seated near the driver at the front of the bus.
Abigail:
I never knew how far we were from the train until my transmission broke down.
Irene:
Oh, I’ve been using this bus for a year to get to my job. It goes right up to my building, and the company pays for my ticket.
Abigail:
But, you still need to drive to get food and all after work?
Irene:
No, my husband was laid off last year and he does all that. And he delivers dry cleaning and supplies for the funerals.
Abigail:
Supplies?
Irene:
You know, balloons, videos, paint to decorate your car with.
At the bus stop:
Aaron & Ramon are on skateboards. Mark stands with a bicycle propped against a bench. A young Woman walks back and forth with a baby coach.
Aaron:
Looking under bench at curb. Hey, is that a rabbit under there? That’s a fat one.
Ramon:
Nah, that’s a cat. You need glasses.
Aaron:
That’s an ugly lookin’ cat. Uglier than you.
Drops a half empty soda can on ground and kicks it toward the bench.
Woman with baby coach:
Hey, you! There’s a trash can over there for that.
Aaron:
That’s what the guard gets paid for.
Mark:
Yeah, my brother says these guards get ten dollars an hour and there’s a two year wait list to get hired.
Ramon:
Your brother couldn’t get hired to pick up the trash for free.
Aaron:
Yeah, your brother couldn’t get hired to pick up the trash even before he got out of jail. He should’ve stayed in jail where he had everything for free.
Mark:
You’re so stupid you’d steal the damn trash and try to sell it.
Woman with baby coach:
Enough. You! Pick up that can and put it in the trash, now.
Aaron, Ramon, Mark: Exchange looks. No one moves.
Woman:
NOW!
Ramon:
There’s a beaver under there.
Mark:
You’re so stupid you don’t know what a muskrat is.
Aaron:
That’s not a muskrat, that’s a fox.
Ramon:
No, stupid, foxes are red. That thing is brown.
Kicks soda can under the bench.
Bus arrives, stopping by the bench. Doors open, ramp folds out and descends to curb.
Aaron and Ramon with boards, Mark with bike, and Woman with baby coach mount ramp and board the bus.
Bus departs. The space below the bench is empty except for a soda can.
On the bus.
Irene:
Good morning, y’all.
Woman with baby coach:
Hi, how are you today?
Abigail:
Good morning, how’s little Dorrie doing? She has got the prettiest hair for a baby girl.
Woman:
Oh, she’s good about letting me comb it out, you know.
Irene:
Yes, she will have all of her life to take care of her hair and her self. We do all that work just because we are girls, and what do we get?
Abigail:
We get to be beautiful.
Woman:
You know you want to look your best, and you don’t give a damn what some man thinks. If he doesn’t care about you, then what do you want with him?
Bus stops. Doors open, ramp folds out and descends to curb.
Mark: Pushes bicycle down the ramp.
Irene:
You be careful crossing in all that traffic, now.
Abigail:
Well, y’all have a good day. See you tomorrow.
Follows Mark down the ramp.
Bus departs.
Inside the bodega.
Big:
Well, you know, Pat, these foreigners have got the money and they aren’t afraid to spend it. What do you care if they want to buy up the whole neighborhood? It’s not like there are ever going to be any jobs around here again for you and Linda.
Patrick:
And what’s that supposed to mean to me? What do I tell my son, who’s trying to finish school so he can get a decent job? Where is he supposed to live, if Linda and I move somewhere else? WHERE the hell am I supposed to go?
Chef delivers the orders to the counter. Orders are large soda cups and wrapped sandwiches inside large paper bags.
Here you go, guys; that’s eighteen fifty.
Big:
Got it. Have a good one.
Chef:
Thanks, watch out in that traffic out there.
Patrick:
Yeah, thanks, big spender. ‘s about time you got the check.
At the open doorway of the bodega.
Big:
Hey, look at that kid on the bike out there. What the hell’s he think he’s doing? What’s he looking at?
Patrick:
He’s goin’ like there’s something down there. He’s holding his leg like he’s hurt or something.
Big:
Kid’s probably so stoned he can’t tell if he’s riding a bike or a backhoe. What’s he doing out of school, if he’s not working?
Patrick:
Oh yeah, like there are all these jobs for him to go for. Kid doesn’t look old enough to drive.
Chef:
What’s this, now? Last thing I need is some druggie kid to OD on my parking lot when I’ve got customers coming in regular, now. D’yuz think I should get the cops?
Patrick:
What are the cops gonna do for you? You want them to think you got druggies hanging around here?
Chef:
Whaddya think I want? I want this damn stoner kid gone, off my property like he never existed. If I could, I would keep all these damn kids outta here until they got real money to spend.
Big:
Kid’s not going anywhere on his own, now; he’s down on the ground, grabbing at his leg. What the hell is that thing on him, a weasel?
Patrick:
That’s some kind of pet weasel people buy called a ferret. Look, yuz guys, we gotta go look at this kid ourselves before we call any cops or medics or whatever.
Places his paper bag on the floor inside open doorway.
Chef:
I ain’t gonna have no trouble from some druggie kid in my own business. I bring this.
Brandishes a long, heavy steel knife.
Big:
I got you, Pat.
Places his paper bag on the floor inside open doorway.
I’ll use this to knock him out.
Brandishes a large, heavy soda-acid tank fire extinguisher.
Patrick:
C’mon, yuz guys, I can see blood all over the kid now.
Big:
Hey, what the fa--?
Fire extinguisher flies toward the bicycle.
Patrick:
Holy shit, it bit me!
Chef:
Stabbing at the lunch bags vigorously.
Where is it? Where did he go?
I will get him! I kill these damn druggies!
Big:
Yeah, you just killed my lunch.
Patrick:
Is that soda you’re standing in, or did you piss yourself? Cause this is real blood I got coming out of my arm.
Big:
You know, you should get that arm looked at right away today.
Patrick:
Yeah, easy for you to say. My COBRA ran out two months ago and me and Linda had to go to the County and apply for Medicaid. Like we don’t have enough humiliation already, we had to go sit and wait all day and get talked down at by some social worker who never had to work two jobs at once to get by. We haven’t heard nothing yet. We got NO medical insurance.
Big:
Whole thing happened on this guy’s parking lot. You’re the customer. You’re the injured victim. What you need first is a good personal injury lawyer. This is all gonna cost you NOTHING. When they get done paying you for your pain and suffering, you’ll think you won the lottery.
Patrick:
My luck, I’ll die of rabies or distemper or somethin’ before I ever see the money.
Big:
You could be right. I’m calling Linda and telling her to stay away from you until they know you don’t have rabies. She and I will take good care of all that money your lawyer is gonna get us.
Exeunt.
Requiem aeternam, Junior.
Junior
Marmota monax.