SobersRajakumar
01-09-2014, 11:42 PM
Sobers Rajakumar
January 9, 2014
The Midnight Stranger
He woke up to the sound of honking. The windshield was steamed up. It was cold outside. He pulled his mufflers down and tried looking out pushing up his beanie. He shivered to a fresh pang of the freezing feeling. Steamed breath made him wonder how cold this December has been. Feeling his legs were getting numb, he realized the need to get out and warm himself up. His wrist watch said it was five past five in the morning.
Getting out of the car he noticed the red light in the intersection of Hirsh and Milk avenues. Every night in the past week, ever since he has been parking here, the light is red always. It becomes green when a car stops at the intersection. He heard some footsteps and proceeded to light the match for his cigarette. The cigarette ought to warm the cold lungs. He coughed to the sudden gush of toxic air into his lungs. He looked up to the footsteps which were slow now and not to his surprise it was of one of the street walkers. He looked at her and she glanced back at him. He has seen her walking late nights the past week. He looked at her again and thought that she looked good. She looked like a Latina. She was wearing a red skin tight leggie and a tight T shirt inside her leather jacket. Her hair was curly and let loose. The long boots were the ones making the loud footsteps. She turned away and walked in the other direction.
Few more puffs will end the cigarette. He made a gushing exhale and rubbed his palms together. He needed to find a new place to park. This corner was a cesspool. Hookers, homeless bums, druggies all converged at this corner. But he had to park somewhere the cops won’t bother him. Who ever thought that life on the street was comfy?
Suddenly a Cadillac pulled in the corner and honked. He must have honked to one of those girls. The pretty Latina turned away from the car and walked the other direction. Then he noticed there were more street walkers in the other side of the intersection. The Cadillac stopped at them and couple of the ladies went to the car. Damn one of them looked ugly, he thought.
What would Jackie think? Of him hanging-out on the corners of crime ridden streets. His thoughts raced back into the civilized world his ex lives in. She got rid of him, got the house and the child after five years of marriage. Now here he is at age thirty three in the streets. He was ok, one who had a good career as an accountant only to lose it to alcoholism. Then lose a beautiful wife, child and home to divorce. Living by himself in an apartment was a downgrade for his ego but who cares when you have no self-esteem. In a whim he decided that he wanted to leave this life and took it to the cliffs at Half Moon Bay. But he threw up from the drinking at that time and passed out on one of the cliffs. Late that night a police man picked him up and after making sure that he was not drunk, warned him not to stay late. The cop showed pity because he found out that this puke-head had been bused for DUI twice in the past five years. He had to leave the cliffs to avoid getting cited. Mr. Puke-head didn’t care. Everything is gone and what can one more citation do. But he wanted to go without any attention.
He left the cliffs and went to the marina where all the rich park their love-boats. He parked in the streets and slept in the bench of the promenade. The morning breeze and sunlight made him feel cozy and he suddenly smelled bacon. The smell reminded him that he was hungry. He opened his eyes and there he stood the big lumbering old man grinning and sticking a wrapped sandwich to his nose like it was a joke. He wore a Ray-ban sunglass which was covering one fourth of his face. Big white mustache and a cigar in his mouth pointed downward. He moved his cigar and said, “Ok Mr. Dope, you may be homeless, but you don’t have to be hungry. Eat up and leave. I have people coming to my yacht. I don’t want you to be an eyesore sleeping in front of it” Mr. Dope looked at the yacht which was not a humongous one, but it was big compared to the other ones floating. Shaggy jacket and unshaved face may come handy sometimes, he thought. He accepted the sandwich and walked away from the yacht. He ate the sandwich and it calmed his senses. It made him numb to be accurate. He wasted his day watching people and birds which flew around picking food thrown at them. Some birds ventured so close and were not afraid at all. There was this fat pigeon which walked like it owned the yard. It hardly flew and no one can blame it. The obese pigeon may fly into water and die. He laughed at the bird and decided again in a whim. If a bird can do it, I can do it. That is live without a home. He went and sold his TV, laptop and some other stuff to guys on craigslist. And there was nothing left in the apartment other than the couch. So he abandoned it. He had a few thousand dollars in his hand. That was the last burning fuel to his life which he decided will end soon.
The cigarette burned is fingers and he dropped the bud. He looked at it fuming from the side walk and stepped on it. The Latina was back again and this time she is walking towards him and looking at him focused. She smiled and walked towards him. He wondered and had no clue as to what to do. What can he do? She has seen him as a homeless man sleeping in his car.
“Hey man, do you have a smoke?” She asked.
He shook his head sideways answering no.
“You won’t mind me sticking around you. Do you?”
“For what?” he asked groggily.
“nothin” she said and looked down.
The Cadillac turned the corner and was coming down towards them.
“Let me in the car. Will you?” she sounded desperate.
He didn’t listen and kept looking at the car.
She turned and looked away from the Cadillac.
“Hey man” the guy in the car called at him
“Yo girl is she?” He yelled.
“Doesn’t she need money? She aint stopping for me.” He went on.
“Tell yo ho to respect the boys of the hood.”
“I know yo both are new the hood and should join the gang, pay up if you need to run your girl down the streets”.
Mr. Presumed Pimp turned and looked at her. She stayed and looked down.
The Cadillac guy pulled a gun from his jacket and flashed it at him. He then drove off.
“****” she said
“He’s been hounding me for three days now”
He didn’t give a ****. Mr. Pimp looked at his watch and was thinking of the home depot. Lately that has been the place which has fed him.
“You listening to me hobo?”
He shook his head and pulled another cigarette to smoke. She was angry now.
“I know I am a hooker now but he aint my owner. I own me.”
He pretended not to listen but listening to an angry woman hasn’t happened in a while. He had slightly missed Jackie yelling at him.
“He drove off only because he thinks you are a pimp.”
He wanted to laugh but this dull face routine didn’t give in. He pulled another puff. He needs to drive off to the marina and clean up. Then on to the Home depot.
“You are not much of a talker are you” she went on.
“Let me in your car.” She asked again
“Its cold outside man” She was border-line begging.
He threw the cigarette and got in the car. She got into the passenger side. He started the car. The sunlight was gleaming over the high rise building far away. The time said it was two past six. The gas-tank said it was half empty. Sure that there is enough money for gas, he turned on the heater.
“Your car is ok for a homeless guy” She said. He then looked at her and she gazed at him back. Then shook her head and wondered what?
“I gotta go”. He said
“What?”
“Work”. He said.
“Fine, you gonna be here tonight?” She asked
“I’m not your pimp”. He said
“**** you” She yelled and got out of the car. The thought entertained him. The door slammed needless to say.
The nameless hooker had some fine jiggling ***, he thought as she walked away. Hey it’s been months since he has felt the soft bottom of a woman he thought and stepped on the gas.
One early morning two weeks ago, he drove around trying to find a place to park and parked inside a Home Depot lot. He got out and slept down next to the car leaning on the lamp post. He woke up some time when it was bright and there was a gang standing next to him. They were chatting in Spanish. These were guys who wait for the contractors in the morning Mr. Sleepyhead figured. The gang was suddenly excited and one guy rushed out of the gang. He must be the leader. A Ford-150 pulled next and the leader, the hombre went to the contractor. The contractor guy pulled his sunglasses up and said. “Julio you are short two guys man. I said eleven not nine.”
Standing up Mr. Sleepyhead noticed that the gang had only eight. The guy was counting including him. Julio looked at him surprised and suddenly said
“The white dude works for three guys man. You don’t know him. Don’t worry man we got this”
The contractor looked displeased and shook his head.
“Next time you short people man I’ll take Armando’s gang. He is always overstaffed and they work better than your bums.”
Julio looked at him and said sorry.
“Come to this address. We got some foundational work to do. That’s gonna be work for at least four days.” The contractor then drove off.
Julio was happy and came to him.
“Amigo, you lucky to stand next to our gang man. You got the job we got the job”
Then the truth almost sucked. Julio was shocked to find out that Sleepy-head was just a homeless guy. He then was decided to use him and pay cash. That would save him some money as well. That is only if he worked enough. Sleepy-head turned into hardworking man for a week and the exercise did him good. Living in the streets for two months has dried his money-reserve down to the dollars. He thought to himself that sometimes you get lucky. He got almost a grand working a week. That is at Julio’s cheap labor rate. He liked it. Working for six odd hours after two months in the sleeper added a chip to his personality. The amigos liked him because he never talked back. He listened to Julio and did what Julio said.
He parked at the Marina. Pulled a clean t-shirt from the back seat duffel bag, and looking out it shocked him at the sight of the empty corner. There used to be the portable restroom booth which he used for a week. Now he has to go back to the Wendy’s a mile away. There he washed his face and took care of morning duties.
At home depot Julio was angry that Mr.Whiteman was late. The gang was ready to leave and gave him the address to go.
Work it is life. He thought. Life has its own script and we run over it writing the pages it dictates. The light said green and he stepped on the pedal.
The house they worked was a huge mansion with six bedrooms. The rooms were spacious and the house was built on a hill slope over looking the city bridge. He is a well-to-do businessman per Julio. Who cares? Mr. Hardworker thought and went about his work.
He was tired today. But good sandwich that evening courtesy of Julio did him well. He smiled after a long time but no one was around to see it. He was driving back to the beach. He had a paper-bag of chicken from DFC. The chicken tasted good. He thought of his boy, little Joe. Little boy of four he is and was always funny. He loved chicken. He loved them battered and fried. Like the one Mr. Father was eating. A raven flew and sat next to him in the beach he threw a piece at it. It made a annoying “craw” noise again and again and picked the piece off the sand. Then it ate it. There were more birds flying in to join the party and Mr. Crow-feeder got irritated. He got up and went to the car.
The radio stations he hated the least was the Rockstar station and he tuned to it.
The evening is a long one he thought and looked at the sun sinking in to the sea. Then he fell asleep.
Something fell on the car hood and made a bang that woke him up. The time said it was ten past eleven. Outside a boy ran past the car and picked up the foot ball from the ground. Then ran past the car to where he came from. There were boys throwing the ball at each other and having fun. Some people don’t care what time is fun he thought and got out of his car. He always loved football and loved playing it. He was a wide receiver when he was in the high school. He was a decent one, who made it to the university team but not as a starter, and thus ended his football dream. These boys looked like they were college kids. They were not the athletic type. They ran slow and threw aimlessly. But fun that’s what they were having. Being playful without care is all the human mind may enjoy. Like dolphins. Man thoughts digress. Where did the dolphins come from? He looked at the dark sea and looked at the boys again. They got tired and walked away after playing for another half an hour. The sea breeze picked up chill. The cold weather is bad; he thought and got back into the car.
This is a tough one he said to himself when he thought of going back to the hooker corner. He liked parking there because it was entertaining to see johns driving around trying to find the right hooker. Some johns drive and ask if they were really a girl. Obviously looks are deceiving. He pitied some because he witnessed a dude punch the crap out of a little girl inside the car and she took it like a champ. She yelled back at him and walked back to the streets. Then an hour later she came back smiling at him. She got into the car and kissed the brute and gave him the money she made. Mr. Watcher was confused. How can a sweet looking teen girl get the brains beaten out of her by an animal and love him back. And then there was Jackie, who accused him of violence when he threw the empty glass that broke to pieces on the wall. Women…, mm strange! Their love is as strange as their orgasm. They cum when they feel it coming and it may not even involve sex. Is it the power of feminine or the nature of sex? He never figured it out. These street-walking women obviously ignore him because they have seen him long enough to know him as a homeless and although his car is not extremely old, it looks unwashed and dirty for a eight year old car. Unshaved beard and a dirty car are his repellents. He had parked on the other direction of the intersection and noticed that the light facing Milk was always green and it is the way the lights work. Some streets have it green always and others have to park and wait for the green light. It’s up to your direction you drive to get the always green streets. He gets stupidly philosophical sometimes and he admits that he ends up not making sense to himself sometimes. He pulled the seat back and opened a bottle. It was a water bottle. He has slowly forgotten to drink alcohol for a while and astonishingly he also forgot how it happened. Maybe it was the stench of the puke he had on the Half-Moon Bay cliffs.
He woke up suddenly and noticed that it was twenty to four in the morning. The walkers were all over the place. No shortage of Johns too. This walker who tried her best to look like a girl kept saying to a john “Imma good sucker”, he kept moving. The humor never ends, thought Mr. Voyeur. He suddenly remembered that the Cadillac was parked on the other side of the intersection and the lights went on. He drove off after a girl and she got in the car. The girl looked scared when he pulled the gun on her and he drove off. The Cadillac may be ruling the streets. He knows new girls when he sees one. Time whizzed past him and he turned the radio off planning to sleep. The Cadillac came and parked on the other side of the street and he just noticed that The Latina has been standing there pretending to use the cell-phone before the Cadillac came. She was dressed in orange top and wore a mini-skirt showing her thick thighs. She backed and froze to the wall. The dude with the Yankees hat got out of the car and went to her. The he cupped her jaw and pistol whipped her. Mr. Watcher got restless and the heart started to pound. He heard her miffed squeals and attempted screams. But he was too strong for her. He pulled her to the car but she won’t let go the shop grill bar. She clung to it. He put his gun back in his pocket and pulled her hair. She let out a wail like a wounded animal. The sound reminded the watcher of a dog which yelped before it died, when he struck it outside a farm years ago.
He got out and went to the Cadillac.
“My man, you can’t do that to a girl whose pimp aint around.” He said
“Yeah” The dude asked and still didn’t let go of her hair.
“Make me you dope” He challenged
“I figured it out” He continued
“You aint her pimp and She aint your ho. She lives by herself in an apartment in sunset and goes to school. You aint around all day. She works alone homie. You are just a hobo”
“Get outta way jack or you’ll be meat” he then turned and slammed her head on the grill bar. She let the bar go and held her forehead that was bleeding now.
Mr. Witness put his right hand on the pocket and pulled the industrial pocket blade that Julio gave him. Then opened it and went to him fast. The dude didn’t have time to pull his gun out as he was holding her hair. Being bigger helped and he dug the knife into his left side. Then took it out and went for the neck. The pick on the neck did the work. Blood oozed out and the dude had no time to react. He fell on his back and leaned on the wall. His legs were shaking without control and he didn’t look good. The girls in the street screamed and ran. Blood flowed down his neck down to his white jacket.
Mr. Killer looked at the Latina; she stood shocked. He then picked up the gun and slid it into his pocket. Then he turned to her. Gave her a good slap on the left cheek and said
“What are you looking at? Get to the car *****.”
She walked fast to the car following him. Mr. Rescuer opened his car and got in. She got in as well. Her face was covered by blood one side. He started the car and drove off. He turned to her as he was driving and gave her the napkins he had from DFC. She wiped her face and still blood was oozing. Now he needs to find a twenty-four hour pharmacy to get her some bandages. He shook his head.
“Where are you going?” she asked
“Somewhere” he said
He parked at the beach parking lot and got out. She came out with him and sat on the hood.
“Thank you” she said
He didn’t have any reaction. He kept looking into the dark sea. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing into the shore and the cool breeze made him feel calm. She leaned on his shoulders and held his arms. He could feel her shiver in his right arm.
“Come on we can’t stay her in the cold” She suddenly said
“Let’s go”
“Where?” he asked
“To my place” she said and looked innocently
He got into the car and turned the ignition on. She looked at him and said
“What’s your name stranger?” She laughed.
“No Name” he said, “I’m your pimp and you’re my ho and you ain’t working in the streets no more”
She laughed out loud. The car screeched out of the parking lot.
January 9, 2014
The Midnight Stranger
He woke up to the sound of honking. The windshield was steamed up. It was cold outside. He pulled his mufflers down and tried looking out pushing up his beanie. He shivered to a fresh pang of the freezing feeling. Steamed breath made him wonder how cold this December has been. Feeling his legs were getting numb, he realized the need to get out and warm himself up. His wrist watch said it was five past five in the morning.
Getting out of the car he noticed the red light in the intersection of Hirsh and Milk avenues. Every night in the past week, ever since he has been parking here, the light is red always. It becomes green when a car stops at the intersection. He heard some footsteps and proceeded to light the match for his cigarette. The cigarette ought to warm the cold lungs. He coughed to the sudden gush of toxic air into his lungs. He looked up to the footsteps which were slow now and not to his surprise it was of one of the street walkers. He looked at her and she glanced back at him. He has seen her walking late nights the past week. He looked at her again and thought that she looked good. She looked like a Latina. She was wearing a red skin tight leggie and a tight T shirt inside her leather jacket. Her hair was curly and let loose. The long boots were the ones making the loud footsteps. She turned away and walked in the other direction.
Few more puffs will end the cigarette. He made a gushing exhale and rubbed his palms together. He needed to find a new place to park. This corner was a cesspool. Hookers, homeless bums, druggies all converged at this corner. But he had to park somewhere the cops won’t bother him. Who ever thought that life on the street was comfy?
Suddenly a Cadillac pulled in the corner and honked. He must have honked to one of those girls. The pretty Latina turned away from the car and walked the other direction. Then he noticed there were more street walkers in the other side of the intersection. The Cadillac stopped at them and couple of the ladies went to the car. Damn one of them looked ugly, he thought.
What would Jackie think? Of him hanging-out on the corners of crime ridden streets. His thoughts raced back into the civilized world his ex lives in. She got rid of him, got the house and the child after five years of marriage. Now here he is at age thirty three in the streets. He was ok, one who had a good career as an accountant only to lose it to alcoholism. Then lose a beautiful wife, child and home to divorce. Living by himself in an apartment was a downgrade for his ego but who cares when you have no self-esteem. In a whim he decided that he wanted to leave this life and took it to the cliffs at Half Moon Bay. But he threw up from the drinking at that time and passed out on one of the cliffs. Late that night a police man picked him up and after making sure that he was not drunk, warned him not to stay late. The cop showed pity because he found out that this puke-head had been bused for DUI twice in the past five years. He had to leave the cliffs to avoid getting cited. Mr. Puke-head didn’t care. Everything is gone and what can one more citation do. But he wanted to go without any attention.
He left the cliffs and went to the marina where all the rich park their love-boats. He parked in the streets and slept in the bench of the promenade. The morning breeze and sunlight made him feel cozy and he suddenly smelled bacon. The smell reminded him that he was hungry. He opened his eyes and there he stood the big lumbering old man grinning and sticking a wrapped sandwich to his nose like it was a joke. He wore a Ray-ban sunglass which was covering one fourth of his face. Big white mustache and a cigar in his mouth pointed downward. He moved his cigar and said, “Ok Mr. Dope, you may be homeless, but you don’t have to be hungry. Eat up and leave. I have people coming to my yacht. I don’t want you to be an eyesore sleeping in front of it” Mr. Dope looked at the yacht which was not a humongous one, but it was big compared to the other ones floating. Shaggy jacket and unshaved face may come handy sometimes, he thought. He accepted the sandwich and walked away from the yacht. He ate the sandwich and it calmed his senses. It made him numb to be accurate. He wasted his day watching people and birds which flew around picking food thrown at them. Some birds ventured so close and were not afraid at all. There was this fat pigeon which walked like it owned the yard. It hardly flew and no one can blame it. The obese pigeon may fly into water and die. He laughed at the bird and decided again in a whim. If a bird can do it, I can do it. That is live without a home. He went and sold his TV, laptop and some other stuff to guys on craigslist. And there was nothing left in the apartment other than the couch. So he abandoned it. He had a few thousand dollars in his hand. That was the last burning fuel to his life which he decided will end soon.
The cigarette burned is fingers and he dropped the bud. He looked at it fuming from the side walk and stepped on it. The Latina was back again and this time she is walking towards him and looking at him focused. She smiled and walked towards him. He wondered and had no clue as to what to do. What can he do? She has seen him as a homeless man sleeping in his car.
“Hey man, do you have a smoke?” She asked.
He shook his head sideways answering no.
“You won’t mind me sticking around you. Do you?”
“For what?” he asked groggily.
“nothin” she said and looked down.
The Cadillac turned the corner and was coming down towards them.
“Let me in the car. Will you?” she sounded desperate.
He didn’t listen and kept looking at the car.
She turned and looked away from the Cadillac.
“Hey man” the guy in the car called at him
“Yo girl is she?” He yelled.
“Doesn’t she need money? She aint stopping for me.” He went on.
“Tell yo ho to respect the boys of the hood.”
“I know yo both are new the hood and should join the gang, pay up if you need to run your girl down the streets”.
Mr. Presumed Pimp turned and looked at her. She stayed and looked down.
The Cadillac guy pulled a gun from his jacket and flashed it at him. He then drove off.
“****” she said
“He’s been hounding me for three days now”
He didn’t give a ****. Mr. Pimp looked at his watch and was thinking of the home depot. Lately that has been the place which has fed him.
“You listening to me hobo?”
He shook his head and pulled another cigarette to smoke. She was angry now.
“I know I am a hooker now but he aint my owner. I own me.”
He pretended not to listen but listening to an angry woman hasn’t happened in a while. He had slightly missed Jackie yelling at him.
“He drove off only because he thinks you are a pimp.”
He wanted to laugh but this dull face routine didn’t give in. He pulled another puff. He needs to drive off to the marina and clean up. Then on to the Home depot.
“You are not much of a talker are you” she went on.
“Let me in your car.” She asked again
“Its cold outside man” She was border-line begging.
He threw the cigarette and got in the car. She got into the passenger side. He started the car. The sunlight was gleaming over the high rise building far away. The time said it was two past six. The gas-tank said it was half empty. Sure that there is enough money for gas, he turned on the heater.
“Your car is ok for a homeless guy” She said. He then looked at her and she gazed at him back. Then shook her head and wondered what?
“I gotta go”. He said
“What?”
“Work”. He said.
“Fine, you gonna be here tonight?” She asked
“I’m not your pimp”. He said
“**** you” She yelled and got out of the car. The thought entertained him. The door slammed needless to say.
The nameless hooker had some fine jiggling ***, he thought as she walked away. Hey it’s been months since he has felt the soft bottom of a woman he thought and stepped on the gas.
One early morning two weeks ago, he drove around trying to find a place to park and parked inside a Home Depot lot. He got out and slept down next to the car leaning on the lamp post. He woke up some time when it was bright and there was a gang standing next to him. They were chatting in Spanish. These were guys who wait for the contractors in the morning Mr. Sleepyhead figured. The gang was suddenly excited and one guy rushed out of the gang. He must be the leader. A Ford-150 pulled next and the leader, the hombre went to the contractor. The contractor guy pulled his sunglasses up and said. “Julio you are short two guys man. I said eleven not nine.”
Standing up Mr. Sleepyhead noticed that the gang had only eight. The guy was counting including him. Julio looked at him surprised and suddenly said
“The white dude works for three guys man. You don’t know him. Don’t worry man we got this”
The contractor looked displeased and shook his head.
“Next time you short people man I’ll take Armando’s gang. He is always overstaffed and they work better than your bums.”
Julio looked at him and said sorry.
“Come to this address. We got some foundational work to do. That’s gonna be work for at least four days.” The contractor then drove off.
Julio was happy and came to him.
“Amigo, you lucky to stand next to our gang man. You got the job we got the job”
Then the truth almost sucked. Julio was shocked to find out that Sleepy-head was just a homeless guy. He then was decided to use him and pay cash. That would save him some money as well. That is only if he worked enough. Sleepy-head turned into hardworking man for a week and the exercise did him good. Living in the streets for two months has dried his money-reserve down to the dollars. He thought to himself that sometimes you get lucky. He got almost a grand working a week. That is at Julio’s cheap labor rate. He liked it. Working for six odd hours after two months in the sleeper added a chip to his personality. The amigos liked him because he never talked back. He listened to Julio and did what Julio said.
He parked at the Marina. Pulled a clean t-shirt from the back seat duffel bag, and looking out it shocked him at the sight of the empty corner. There used to be the portable restroom booth which he used for a week. Now he has to go back to the Wendy’s a mile away. There he washed his face and took care of morning duties.
At home depot Julio was angry that Mr.Whiteman was late. The gang was ready to leave and gave him the address to go.
Work it is life. He thought. Life has its own script and we run over it writing the pages it dictates. The light said green and he stepped on the pedal.
The house they worked was a huge mansion with six bedrooms. The rooms were spacious and the house was built on a hill slope over looking the city bridge. He is a well-to-do businessman per Julio. Who cares? Mr. Hardworker thought and went about his work.
He was tired today. But good sandwich that evening courtesy of Julio did him well. He smiled after a long time but no one was around to see it. He was driving back to the beach. He had a paper-bag of chicken from DFC. The chicken tasted good. He thought of his boy, little Joe. Little boy of four he is and was always funny. He loved chicken. He loved them battered and fried. Like the one Mr. Father was eating. A raven flew and sat next to him in the beach he threw a piece at it. It made a annoying “craw” noise again and again and picked the piece off the sand. Then it ate it. There were more birds flying in to join the party and Mr. Crow-feeder got irritated. He got up and went to the car.
The radio stations he hated the least was the Rockstar station and he tuned to it.
The evening is a long one he thought and looked at the sun sinking in to the sea. Then he fell asleep.
Something fell on the car hood and made a bang that woke him up. The time said it was ten past eleven. Outside a boy ran past the car and picked up the foot ball from the ground. Then ran past the car to where he came from. There were boys throwing the ball at each other and having fun. Some people don’t care what time is fun he thought and got out of his car. He always loved football and loved playing it. He was a wide receiver when he was in the high school. He was a decent one, who made it to the university team but not as a starter, and thus ended his football dream. These boys looked like they were college kids. They were not the athletic type. They ran slow and threw aimlessly. But fun that’s what they were having. Being playful without care is all the human mind may enjoy. Like dolphins. Man thoughts digress. Where did the dolphins come from? He looked at the dark sea and looked at the boys again. They got tired and walked away after playing for another half an hour. The sea breeze picked up chill. The cold weather is bad; he thought and got back into the car.
This is a tough one he said to himself when he thought of going back to the hooker corner. He liked parking there because it was entertaining to see johns driving around trying to find the right hooker. Some johns drive and ask if they were really a girl. Obviously looks are deceiving. He pitied some because he witnessed a dude punch the crap out of a little girl inside the car and she took it like a champ. She yelled back at him and walked back to the streets. Then an hour later she came back smiling at him. She got into the car and kissed the brute and gave him the money she made. Mr. Watcher was confused. How can a sweet looking teen girl get the brains beaten out of her by an animal and love him back. And then there was Jackie, who accused him of violence when he threw the empty glass that broke to pieces on the wall. Women…, mm strange! Their love is as strange as their orgasm. They cum when they feel it coming and it may not even involve sex. Is it the power of feminine or the nature of sex? He never figured it out. These street-walking women obviously ignore him because they have seen him long enough to know him as a homeless and although his car is not extremely old, it looks unwashed and dirty for a eight year old car. Unshaved beard and a dirty car are his repellents. He had parked on the other direction of the intersection and noticed that the light facing Milk was always green and it is the way the lights work. Some streets have it green always and others have to park and wait for the green light. It’s up to your direction you drive to get the always green streets. He gets stupidly philosophical sometimes and he admits that he ends up not making sense to himself sometimes. He pulled the seat back and opened a bottle. It was a water bottle. He has slowly forgotten to drink alcohol for a while and astonishingly he also forgot how it happened. Maybe it was the stench of the puke he had on the Half-Moon Bay cliffs.
He woke up suddenly and noticed that it was twenty to four in the morning. The walkers were all over the place. No shortage of Johns too. This walker who tried her best to look like a girl kept saying to a john “Imma good sucker”, he kept moving. The humor never ends, thought Mr. Voyeur. He suddenly remembered that the Cadillac was parked on the other side of the intersection and the lights went on. He drove off after a girl and she got in the car. The girl looked scared when he pulled the gun on her and he drove off. The Cadillac may be ruling the streets. He knows new girls when he sees one. Time whizzed past him and he turned the radio off planning to sleep. The Cadillac came and parked on the other side of the street and he just noticed that The Latina has been standing there pretending to use the cell-phone before the Cadillac came. She was dressed in orange top and wore a mini-skirt showing her thick thighs. She backed and froze to the wall. The dude with the Yankees hat got out of the car and went to her. The he cupped her jaw and pistol whipped her. Mr. Watcher got restless and the heart started to pound. He heard her miffed squeals and attempted screams. But he was too strong for her. He pulled her to the car but she won’t let go the shop grill bar. She clung to it. He put his gun back in his pocket and pulled her hair. She let out a wail like a wounded animal. The sound reminded the watcher of a dog which yelped before it died, when he struck it outside a farm years ago.
He got out and went to the Cadillac.
“My man, you can’t do that to a girl whose pimp aint around.” He said
“Yeah” The dude asked and still didn’t let go of her hair.
“Make me you dope” He challenged
“I figured it out” He continued
“You aint her pimp and She aint your ho. She lives by herself in an apartment in sunset and goes to school. You aint around all day. She works alone homie. You are just a hobo”
“Get outta way jack or you’ll be meat” he then turned and slammed her head on the grill bar. She let the bar go and held her forehead that was bleeding now.
Mr. Witness put his right hand on the pocket and pulled the industrial pocket blade that Julio gave him. Then opened it and went to him fast. The dude didn’t have time to pull his gun out as he was holding her hair. Being bigger helped and he dug the knife into his left side. Then took it out and went for the neck. The pick on the neck did the work. Blood oozed out and the dude had no time to react. He fell on his back and leaned on the wall. His legs were shaking without control and he didn’t look good. The girls in the street screamed and ran. Blood flowed down his neck down to his white jacket.
Mr. Killer looked at the Latina; she stood shocked. He then picked up the gun and slid it into his pocket. Then he turned to her. Gave her a good slap on the left cheek and said
“What are you looking at? Get to the car *****.”
She walked fast to the car following him. Mr. Rescuer opened his car and got in. She got in as well. Her face was covered by blood one side. He started the car and drove off. He turned to her as he was driving and gave her the napkins he had from DFC. She wiped her face and still blood was oozing. Now he needs to find a twenty-four hour pharmacy to get her some bandages. He shook his head.
“Where are you going?” she asked
“Somewhere” he said
He parked at the beach parking lot and got out. She came out with him and sat on the hood.
“Thank you” she said
He didn’t have any reaction. He kept looking into the dark sea. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing into the shore and the cool breeze made him feel calm. She leaned on his shoulders and held his arms. He could feel her shiver in his right arm.
“Come on we can’t stay her in the cold” She suddenly said
“Let’s go”
“Where?” he asked
“To my place” she said and looked innocently
He got into the car and turned the ignition on. She looked at him and said
“What’s your name stranger?” She laughed.
“No Name” he said, “I’m your pimp and you’re my ho and you ain’t working in the streets no more”
She laughed out loud. The car screeched out of the parking lot.