Pork Rind

It’s been a rough week. I was thinking this while I finished a late morning post smoke crap when I noticed the toilet paper was out. Only a small piece still glued to the cardboard dangled there and I was fairly certain I would require more. The fact that there was none is just pure stupidity on my part. Just about once a day I walk to the corner store for coke or beer and pass up the opportunity to buy a roll because my cheap ass doesn’t want to spend an extra quarter that the mini-mart demands over its competitors. This while purchasing a 16oz. of beverage for over 2 bucks or worse, the fifteen dollar six pack of micro-brew when clearly cost saving alternatives are widely available. So I wiped with my hand, swami style, and scrubbed up. Hell, half the world does it that way, good enough for me. Better shit on my hands than blood.

Blood, however, is a nasty reality of living as life in this city has revealed on all too frequent occasion. Get in it, really live in it and you eventually will be the target of violence. There are two fundamental choices as I see it; live in fear or face it. So, after many sober hours and an excellent foray to the love drenched, soul filled, Macio Parker show, I decided to face my aggressor, one on one, man to man, balls to the wall. I wore a white T, big ass brand name aviator sunglasses, black shorts, black cap, black sneaks and walked the entire distance (about ten miles) up to the lake to confront the Bro. Straight to the source of shit talkin’ ignorance that crossed the line with me two nights prior in that dive on the north end. It’s safe to say that I looked like a fag, a stupid one, but fuck it. I gave no escape route and told not a soul of my plan. One man against one man. I would give him two options right there in the light of day, right at the source of his nasty mouth shit talking, right there on his home ground, right there in front of the peeps and posy. Alone. No weapons. And that’s what I did. 10 miles, in the heat of summer, through the ghetto on foot is a long way to think about something and reconsider, to think things through, to back down maybe. I wanted to be certain. We’re men, not kids and these are real threats. Our earth, not his, not mine. So I walked, intently, without hesitation, directly to the source like a suicide bomber. Only my payload wasn’t strapped to my waist. I was simply a man with nothing more to lose and a clear message to deliver, “I will not tolerate any threats to my person now or in the future by he or any persons associated with him, or there will be consequences to pay.” Without hesitation I walked into his place of business (the source of the planned threat), removed my sunglasses, faced him directly, and audibly delivered the message in a clear, steady, assertive tone. I made no backup plans and had no plan for escape. He responded with indignant rage, attempted to lead me toward empty alley’s to which I followed, where he delivered directly and in no uncertain terms his hatred for me, his posy’s hatred for me and shouted repeated threats of harm and suffering for the indignity I caused his ego. I stood my ground, repeated my message and reminded him it was between us, man to man, and there I was facing him – no one else involved, no weapons, and I meant it. Fire raged in his eye, his fists clenched as he came within a foot of my face. I neither looked away nor backed down. I suggested he find a different outlet for his rage but that my message will apply indefinitely. Now this guy would have killed me for sure. For one thing, I am not a fighter, I have endurance and courage but that’s it. This dude is about 6 foot 4, 240 lbs., I’m about 5 foot 11, 170 lbs. My plan, if fists flew, was to pound relentlessly with full swings directly to the abdomen, drawing on endurance so long as I was conscious but I REALLY didn’t want that to happen. Then to my surprise he walked away, apologized, then re-enraged himself and came wild eyed back at me. I stood my ground, repeated my message, suggested again he find a different outlet for his rage. Then again, to my surprise, he drew his composure and suddenly threatened to call the police to have me forcibly removed from his property. I invited the call but now this was getting silly and since I wasn’t dead or unconscious it was time to move on. I reapplied my faggy glasses and did just that. It wasn’t until I walked on did I fully realize how much adrenaline and fear saturated my stubborn sponge of a brain.

The fucked up thing is this kind of shit actually gets people killed. All them “nigger” talkin’ motherfuckers can’t even begin to imagine the stress it must be to live with maybe two or three belligerent men under one roof. Bullies. Sane people leave, they use their mind, work hard and get out. But some never get out or don’t want to leave. Mean streets n such. There’s no way out of facing it and if you’re one who others don’t like, for whatever reason, then you’re kind-of fucked for life. May as well go out swinging or get your respect some other way, gangs and violence and death. Getting close to the source here and this fucker’s not pretty. It’s us. That’s America. Barrel down.