Deacon heads for home, he's just finished a 16 hour shift, busing tables and running coffee and eggs for the late night crowd at the local diner. Mostly privileged college kids and trust fund hipsters. He has about a 3 mile walk ahead of him, he's missed the last bus of course. It's about 40 degrees and a daunting wind and rain bites into him, he's had worse, tucks his head inside his jacket as best he can and picks up the pace to that of what a weathered middle aged man can. Along the way he encounters some college frat boys harassing a homeless man, he's seen this man before, Vietnam vet, slightly crazy, likely drunk, calls himself "Jim". The young men taunt the Vet, push him down as they salute, then begin to urinate on the poor bastard. Deacon could easily go another way, they haven't seen him yet, and he doesn't owe "Jim" a thing. Deacon's weary legs turn to the West a longer route but safer to much extent, about 20 paces into his retreat, his weary legs and heart betray him again, and they turn back East, towards "Jim". As Deacon approaches the assault he cries out, "Leave him alone... he's a veteran". The young "men" waste no time in turning their attention to Deacon. Deacon sighs, and raises his hands for possibly the last time. The assault is quick and whats to be expected, Deacon is surrounded, taunted, Deacon lets fly a decent punch that finds it's mark on a young "man's" chin in that moment he feels young again, capable, relevant, strong, but a mere moment later he is clipped in the knee from behind, and his weary old body betrays him yet again, he feels old, weak, and vulnerable, as his body collapses to the ground and he succumbs to kicks, punches, taunts, and forced urination of the young "men", Deacon asks himself, "why"? As the assault comes to a close, and Deacon's face is right with blood, he begins to come to, a "Man" reaches inside Deacon's Jacket and relieves him of the 80 dollars he made that night. Deacon wipes away the blood from his eyes, and sees "Jim" lurched over his body, cash in hand. "Jim" says, "next time,...walk away". Deacon, rolls to his back and lets the rain wash down his face. He quietly exclaims, "gotta be at work in 4 hours"...
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
"Tips"
Deacon heads for home, he's just finished a 16 hour shift, busing tables and running coffee and eggs for the late night crowd at the local diner. Mostly privileged college kids and trust fund hipsters. He has about a 3 mile walk ahead of him, he's missed the last bus of course. It's about 40 degrees and a daunting wind and rain bites into him, he's had worse, tucks his head inside his jacket as best he can and picks up the pace to that of what a weathered middle aged man can. Along the way he encounters some college frat boys harassing a homeless man, he's seen this man before, Vietnam vet, slightly crazy, likely drunk, calls himself "Jim". The young men taunt the Vet, push him down as they salute, then begin to urinate on the poor bastard. Deacon could easily go another way, they haven't seen him yet, and he doesn't owe "Jim" a thing. Deacon's weary legs turn to the West a longer route but safer to much extent, about 20 paces into his retreat, his weary legs and heart betray him again, and they turn back East, towards "Jim". As Deacon approaches the assault he cries out, "Leave him alone... he's a veteran". The young "men" waste no time in turning their attention to Deacon. Deacon sighs, and raises his hands for possibly the last time. The assault is quick and whats to be expected, Deacon is surrounded, taunted, Deacon lets fly a decent punch that finds it's mark on a young "man's" chin in that moment he feels young again, capable, relevant, strong, but a mere moment later he is clipped in the knee from behind, and his weary old body betrays him yet again, he feels old, weak, and vulnerable, as his body collapses to the ground and he succumbs to kicks, punches, taunts, and forced urination of the young "men", Deacon asks himself, "why"? As the assault comes to a close, and Deacon's face is right with blood, he begins to come to, a "Man" reaches inside Deacon's Jacket and relieves him of the 80 dollars he made that night. Deacon wipes away the blood from his eyes, and sees "Jim" lurched over his body, cash in hand. "Jim" says, "next time,...walk away". Deacon, rolls to his back and lets the rain wash down his face. He quietly exclaims, "gotta be at work in 4 hours"...
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