Going to Get the Paper

I close the door of my maroon Chevy Cavalier, my heart starts to race as the knife in my pocket hits my thigh. The winter wind starts to gush; I shiver and zip up my white hooded sweatshirt. I walk toward the store and I hear my name being shouted; I ignore it and stay the course. I walk in the Quick Check, purchase the thick Sunday paper, tuck it under my arm and head back out into the bright sun.

I once again hear my name accompanied by a slew of profanity; I take a deep breath keeping my head straight forward trying to pay the overweight Neanderthal no mind. I take another step, turning my head down as I walk past the group of morons hanging out in the parking lot of a store, because that is what cool people do apparently. The sidewalk was speckled with old chewing gum, most likely spat out by other groups of rad cats who made the strip mall their lounge, amongst the array of gum I see a foot step in my sight line, a black skate shoe; I knew I was stuck.

I look up and his face is nearly nose to nose with mine, his stench penetrates my nose canal, it’s the typical douche bag smell: a combination of body odor, a whole bottle of cheap cologne and lack of self worth. I take it in for a moment

“Move asshole,” I blurt out.

“We can do this right now if you want, pussy." He replies, I didn't even know the kid knew that many words; 10 is a lot for someone who still hasn't reached the peak of human evolution. I assume he still lives in a cave and kills his food with a big stick. I look around; not seeing any saber tooth tigers I assume I'm the one he is grunting at.

“Fine,” I say in a fit of rage, I don't want to fight him he is quite a bit larger than I, but what choice do I have? So, we engage in fisticuffs.

He throws a quick right hand in my direction; I duck and slam a hard right into his kidney region, then a quick left at his jaw. Knowing he is on his way to a loss he knees me in the stomach and tackles me to the ground, using his probably more than 40 pounds to his advantage. He sits on me like a chair at McDonald's and starts pounding my head against the ground; probably with the same ferocity he pounds down Big Mac's and shamrock shakes. I struggle to get him off of me, but with the adrenaline pumping I don't feel a thing, though it couldn't hide his fowl stink.

Finally, after another slams against the hard concrete I toss him off of me,  and I spring to my feet, I black out with rage. Without thinking about what I am doing I reach into my pocket and pull out the knife and with a quick lick of the wrist the blade is exposed. I stand shaking with anger, the sub human steps back and I say something, I’m not sure what is coming out of my mouth; I'm pretty sure it is just a slew of obscenities. Anger makes me sound as ignorant as the man I'm threatening.

I pick the newspaper off the ground and walk to my car; I tune out the grunting behind me. I take sit on the driver’s seat, finally I return to reality and I realize what I just did. I panic.

I drive home and park in the driveway. I pull out my cell phone, flipping it open I make a call to my girlfriend, who is out of town and can't help me, but I need to talk to someone. As I explain what had just happened, a police car pulls down the road and another one approaches from the other direction.

“I got to go babe, I think I'm getting arrested now. I love you.” I close the phone, step out of the car and begin walk toward the police woman. She pulls her gun from the holster and points it in my direction, my heart beats faster,

“Put your hands up, now!”

I comply. As she puts the cuffs on my wrists my mind races in a maze trying to figure out what is going to happen to me: trying to figure out what I just did to my future.