Eye Witness

A quite common episode, within our modern society.

I was bending down, sending my hand forth to pick up a fresh butt; when out of the blue some big boot stepped upon my outstretched hand – forcing it flat on the pavement…

‘OCH!’ I cried out. ‘God it hurts, lemme’ be you big brute, GET OFF MY HAND!!!

‘Whom are you working for, you?’ Says he with a sneer and steps harder on my poor hand. ‘Who sent you to snoop after me, you miserable wretch? Sing out or I’ll kick your teeth out!’

I’m no snoop so help me, I swear. I was on my way to my street corner, to beg a few dimes.’

‘Is that so?’ Says he. ‘Beat it, clear off and don’t you ever show your ugly face in my territory – CAPISH!?!’ 

‘Why, sure boss, whatever you say, just let my hand go, please.’

He lifts his big boot and I clear off as fast as I can, before he’ll change his mind – that big brute. While I’m crossing the street without a second thought, not minding the traffic, a big Jap-made bike almost bumps me off; two young hoods are riding on it; and the one on the rear seat looks back and gives me a real black look.

I reach the first entrance of some shut shop and hide myself there, crouching – to lick my wounds within my temporary shelter.

The big brute on the other side of the street is still roaming around, looking for me. He seems to have lost my sight thank goodness. He turns back to the cafe table he has just left, to some friend of his who awaits him there – another hood no doubt. They exchange a smile and then he says something, and they both burst out in a loud laugh – I must nave done their day…

But hardly did that big brute settle back on his empty chair, when that young hood who rode on the bike’s rear seat comes running, from the direction which I came from just a few moments ago. He holds some shiny object in his right stretched out hand… He aims it, and that shiny object spits soundless flames. Before me or anyone else gets the idea, he vanishes like a ghost…

The big brute is thrown back in his chair; his mouth is open wide agape, as if he’s going to shout. But his head drops on his broad chest and his big body slips down toward the pavement!

His mate starts to rock and holler, jumping on one foot as if he was hit too:

‘Help, help they’ve hit the boss; he’s bleeding to death! Do something, call an ambulance!!!’

But nobody dares to move. The passers-by are petrified.

The cops arrive at last, after quite a while. There’s nothing to do but remove the dead body…

A few more minutes pass and the whole street is empty, as if nothing has happened…

I get to my feet in my hiding place ready to move along, and so help me… I can see that butt lying on the pavement, just where I’ve left it - smoking still.

I’ll better pick it up, before it will burn out completely!                

 

©  All rights reserved to Haim Kadman 1986