Vigilante
The other day a group of people from the office invited me to join them at some dumbass watering hole up the street. I declined. Hey, don’t get me wrong despite by misanthropic tendencies I do appreciate it when other human beings actually ask me to do something with them. In terms of the blokes at work, their tiny kindness might keep my wrath at bay or at least move them down the list.
Whatever. The reason I passed on the invite was I had a gut feeling to go home instead. It was a hot summer night and the air was, as they say, charged with electricity. I knew something was going to happen.
It did. About 11PM I was sitting on my piss-ant balcony overlooking the gentrifying hood beneath. My eyes followed a comely twenty-something as she moseyed her way up the street. Like most chicks, she had her cute face stuck in a phone.
I wasn’t the only one ogling the babe. Out of nowhere this black dude sporting dreadlocks jumps the woman knocking her down, her glittery purse and phone flying away from her. The chick starts screaming. And what does the brother do? Instead of grabbing her shit he starts wailing on her. Fucking scum. I yelled from my perch: “Hey, Motherfucker!” He looks up. Gives me the goddamn finger.
What he doesn’t know is I have my gun. I pull it out from under by lawn chair and aim it right at his sweaty black ass. He can’t see the pistol but at least he’s not beating the girl anymore. I’ve got him right in my sights. Even though the guy who sold me the weapon said it wasn’t very accurate after 25 yards, I yearned to fire.
And so I did. The blast was magnificent, like an orgasm. I missed the thug but damn if he didn’t sprint away like a frightened bunny. The chick stood up and I could tell she was looking toward my building. She started waving. I heard sirens and decided to go on in. My work here was done.
Chicago Psycho 