Sunday, February 2, 2014

Bill's Dead, Beth

Mr. Hughes spent a great deal of time deciding where and when to buy a pack of cigarettes on February 1, 2014. Why? I don't feel safe in my St. Louis neighborhood where many are unable to go outdoors without a black hood that obscures their face. Therefore, this narrative is dedicated to my sister, Mary Elizabeth.

These were my thoughts. Reading my mind?

"Oh great, it's getting icy. I'll fall on my butt. Oops. Looks like a roust. Cop said, 'What's going on?' It can't be good with a big black guy and a lawn chair out on the porch. It's sleeting, and you're out on the stoop selling drugs? Copper's trying to tell me something. Why? Why is Robin closed? Why do these people even post store hours? Damn, I'll have to go to the Bosnian store. It's open! Yea! [Post Edgefield 100's purchase]. Do not fall on your ass. Sir, keep moving! Drive-by time...keep moving! Jesus Christ, this neighborhood sucks. Buddy, keep moving!! There's the firehouse, for a guy with no phone. Dr. Pepper machine, eh? Oh, there's the TV on. They always leave someone behind. So many safety things I was taught as a kid. Like, where's the phone? Knock on the firehouse door. They'll help. Almost home. Let's get all Secret Service. I need a gun. Okay...we got a hoodie at the bus stop. And, why are you stopping? Two cars in the street facing the same direction? Don't like it. Something's being exchanged. Oh no, you are doing what? Right in front of me?" 


Beth, your brother is dead. Why? The "hoodie" your brother missed, who was dressed all in black, of course, was high on crack, psychotic, and though I am a "narc." He fired his gun, I was shot three times, went down, and died in the northbound lane of Michigan Avenue trying to call 911 on the stupid-ass Trac Fone. The fine citizens of your Carondolet neighborhood ignored my dead body until some guy like your husband said, "Shit, there's a guy down." The cops arrived twenty minutes after the shooting. The ambulance? A half-hour. The paramedic said? "This guy's dead." It was your brother, Howard Hughes Junior's grandson.

No comments:

Post a Comment