by Erin J.
Do you ever say that? It is my favorite word - very versatile. I say it often.
Fuck this, fuck that, fuck society, fuck the world, and fuck you.
who am I you ask? A good question that I wish I could answer in a way that you
would truly understand. I do not hold the world in contempt—I just see it and
its agenda as beneath me. I do not consider myself a superior person to you, I
am simply a better person and I deserve more than what life has given me. My
brain does not work like yours. I understand things you do not.
may scoff at this and say that I am only an old bum, a homeless man who does
not matter to decent society—and you would be correct. And you may also point
to the fact that I am an ex-con and unemployed—twice again you would be
correct. Yes, there was a girl. I know what I did to her and I know what they
did to me in return. But now, I am older and wiser and prison is behind me. And
yes, I live in a shelter. I have a roof over my head, a bed to sleep in, and
food when I am hungry. With no job to bog me down, I wile away the hours of the
day with good books at the library—and that is where this story truly begins.
are many who go to the library. There is a core of regulars and those who only
go there from time to time. There was one person in particular that stuck out
in my mind. He was a man that would come in the morning and spend an hour or so
working on his laptop computer and then leave. Sometimes he would come in again
later in the day to spend more time on his laptop computer. I did not like him
from the get-go. He was a small man. He was a short little piss ant of a man
who shaved and showered every morning. His hair was cut short and combed. His
clothes were always clean and ironed.
for shits and giggles I tried to provoke some trouble with him by staring at
him over my glasses when he walked by. It did not faze him. He would simply
smile and say ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ as he passed by. I knew I needed to up
the ante to provoke him.
day while he was in the library, he got up from his computer to go to the
restroom or get himself a drink of water or something like that. His path of
travel brought him close to where I was. There was nobody close by to hear or
witness anything, so I glared at him hard, pointed a finger at him and wagged
it the way my mother used to when I misbehaved. He did not understand. He
looked at me like he was confused and stupid. He stopped and asked me if there
was a problem. I looked at him and sternly said “It won’t work.” This only
seemed to have confused him more. “What won’t work?” he asked as if he did not
know. “Whatever you are plotting, it won’t work. I won’t let it” I replied. He
still looked confused and replied “Sorry, but I am not plotting anything”
are and it won’t work” I stated.
“Sorry if I
did anything to lead to a misunderstanding, but I am not plotting against you
and I do not wish you any harm.”
watch yourself,” I warned him, “I am on to your game.” He looked at me as if I
was odd and simply walked away.
days went by and his routine did not change. When the opportunity permitted, I
would flip him the bird or make an obscene gesture when no one was
looking. As the days turned to summer,
the only thing that changed was the number of young girls that came to the
library while I was there. Sweet treats in short shorts, short skirts, and
tight jeans were giving me nice distractions from my reading. But still the
game of cat and mouse continued with the little piss ant. He did not change his
daily routine or show fear as he should have, but always he seemed to keep a
tab on me and know my whereabouts. He always stayed where there were witnesses
and help should he need it. I could never catch him alone. He would not allow
himself to be cornered.
will admit that there are times when I am lonely. The soft touch of a female
has been scarce in my life. The thoughts
in my head when I saw these tempting young tarts were disgraceful, yet
pleasing. And sadly, my friends, I was
led into temptation by a sweet young thing.
was Hispanic. Latina is a nice flavor for a man to savor. She was young, maybe
fifteen, maybe a little older. I don’t know for sure. Her tanned legs and
flouncing skirt caught my eye as she was looking at books. When she drew near,
I reached out with a trembling hand and lifted the back of her skirt for a
peek. Her panties were pink and pretty and a satiny smooth that so nicely
fitted her pert little ass.
tensed in fear and stifled a scream. She turned and looked at me in shock and
fear. She quickly turned and hurried away. I sat there for a moment not sure
just what to do. Then it occurred to me that I needed to leave and so I did,
quickly heading back to the safety of the shelter.
could have left well enough alone and I know I should have. Despite my wisdom,
I am sometimes a fool. I could have left immediately for another town, another
state, another shelter, but I did not. I had a score to settle. The next day I
returned to the library. I arrived early, just a few minutes before it opened.
I wanted to meet the little piss ant when he arrived. I wanted to catch him in
the open and force him into a fight.
was sitting on a shady bench smoking a cigarette when I saw a white car pull
in. I did not see him get out, but realized it was him as he crossed the
parking lot. When he was half-way to the door, I stood up and moved to where he
could see me. He froze in his tracks and I smiled a big grin at him. The time
was now and he was afraid. The fear showed in his eyes.
laughed and started walking towards him. He did not come forward or try to run.
He just stood there. Then I noticed that his eyes gazed at something behind me.
The sound of a pebble scraping under a foot sent a chill up my spine. I turned
to see four young Hispanic males moving towards me; tattooed, young toughs with
hate in their eyes.
stopped to face this new threat. They moved to circle around me. I was never
one to hesitate. I stepped towards the first one and connected a nice, solid
right to his jaw. As he staggered back, something struck me behind the left ear.
I turned to defend myself against whoever had just struck me and something
landed hard to my jaw. My knees buckled and I went down hard. Several kicks
landed against my person. I tried to rise but was forced down to the ground. I
looked up to see the little piss ant just standing there
enjoying the show. I heard someone call for someone to call the police. I tried
to rise…but could not…the world
Erin J. Jones has had work published
previously in Criminal Class Review,
Homepage of the Dead, Randomly
Accessed Poetics, and Yellow Mama