Just An Average Sunday Night: A Tale of Detroit
Plip. Plip. Plip. The sounds of the leaking gas catch my attention. Aw hell, this can't be good. There's a wild hissing of steam escaping from a radiator. The car was smashed nose first into a tree. Nearby a police cruiser is jammed up against it too. The front windshield of the car is shattered, a groaning figure lay in a bloody heap on the ground. A back window had also been smashed, a man's head had been dragged through it, his throat ripped open by the jagged glass. The police car is missing a door, and a windshield. No sign o the cops. What happened? For the life of me I can't remember. I'm sitting on the side of the road and watching the entire display. I scratch a hand through my hair, the short stubble runs along, prickling my palm. It's then I feel the slight stab o pain. I look over, somebody's shot me. Twice. In the same arm. Wonder how that happened? I can't seem to remember, for the life of me I can't remember. I look back at the crawling figure, I pull out a lighter and a cigarette. All right, concentrate on this one. It's Sunday. That meant you must have started the night down at Gurdy's. I always start my Sunday's there. Yeah, I remember now. Just an average Sunday night sucking back the sauce with the other losers. I was trying to tell Sam about my angel. The big goof had ta go and start mouthing off about things. So I broke his arm in a few places. Hmmm....if it was Sunday that must have meant Harris came in too. Meant Nancy must have done her little song and dance thing. Harris seemed more bitter then usual about something. Of course that sourpuss is always moaning and groaning about some plight or other. I kinda like Nancy though, nice songs, kinda old style. None of this Dixie Chicks crap. Naw, good old fashioned country. Yeah, Harris came in, watched Nancy, and then left. Same ol same ol. I was feeling kinda bummed out and bored so I grabbed a bottle o Gurdy's special brew and slipped out back to finish it in peace and quiet. That's when I heard the shouting. Some stupid frat boys picking on a wino. As though he didn't have it bad enough. I walk over closer while finishing off the bottle. They're kicking the hell out of him and pouring gas all over him. One a the pukes pulls out a lighter. I smash the bottle against the alley wall, I hold up the jagged end and look at them meaningfully. Crawl back into your bottle Jack says one of the little dweebs as he pops out a gun and caps me in the shoulder. I glance over at the wound, I look back at them. I guess they kinda got worried at that one, ran for it like all the dickens. Why'd the hell he call me Jack? It's a mystery. Those sort of things can really honk me off. That and he went and put a damn hole in my jacket. I puff on the cigarette and stand up. The guy on the ground is moaning and trying to crawl away. I walk over and stomp on his neck, it snaps. So they shot me, that made it clear to me who the bad guys were. It's okay to kill the bad guys. Hell, it was practically my civic duty! So I did what any good citizen would.... Their car roared down the street. I hung on tight to the window and punched it out. I reach in and grab one of them. I pull his head out and jam it down on the broken window, blood sprays on me. The other guy, the one who called me Jack. He fires again. He hits me in the same damn shoulder! I pop off the car and end up slamming into the hood of an oncoming cop. That's when I got an idea....I leap forward, smashing through the windshield. They yell and scream in surprise as I kick and throw them out. If those kids get back to a nice fancy neighborhood it would make things difficult for me. So I come up on them, play bumper cars for a while. Knock them out away from the Heights, send them trailing down into Dearborn. They try to get away, end up hitting a tree. I'm running kinda close on them so I pound into them too. At least I'm smart enough to hop out before I go, smash the whole damn door apart, but at least I don't get pounded up. I look down at the guy I just killed, he shoulda worn his seat belt. Even I know that much. Well, looks like the last two ran off. Including the guy who called me Jack. I could just let it go, but...I hate mysteries. I toss the cigarette down into the pool of gas as I leap off the edge of the embankment and sprint down after them. Behind me the cars go up in a fireball of orange light, I laugh. It's good to be alive! I slow down then, can't let myself get too excited. You know what happens when you get too excited. Bad things, don't need to start doing bad things. I'm walking along slow like. I hear their whispers of fear. They know I'm coming. I reach down and pick up a broken piece of pavement. I keep walking. They pop out, looks like they both have guns. I hurl the rock, it drills into the second guy, smashes his face inta pulp. The other guy fires twice, but he's shaky, scared. He manages to hit a damn bird that was sitting on a telephone wire, but he sure as hell don't hit me. I grab his hand and crush it around the gun. I grab his neck and pick him up. Ya shot a damn bird, I sez. He nods and blubbers. I tell him it ain't nice ta shoot damn birds. He starts ta agree, I shake him. I look into his eyes. I ask him the question. Why the hell did you call me Jack? Huh? He says. He just shrugs, it's an expression he says. Like saying what's up Jack, that's all it was. I nod. I tell him thanks for clearing that up for me. I snap his neck. At least I didn't get any more holes in my coat, and one damn fine coat it is. Somebody musta paid a fortune for it. I wonder who? And while I'm at it, where'd I get that pack of smokes? For the life of me I can't remember.
