I felt as if I were watching a movie. I couldn’t believe I didn’t say a word to him while he was there. Bernie never even looked at me. He never bothered to scan the store to see who was watching him. This wasn’t the withering old man who kept to himself. This man who I only casually greeted at best, an invisible ambiguity, was here now standing prominently amongst us. He seemed like he had somehow sloughed off the old shell of who he used to be to reveal a newborn man. Then he just flew away, without looking back. That was so weird. I walked over to the store owner.
“You know that guy, the guy that just left here a minute ago.”, I asked.
“I see a lot of people come through here all day.”, he replied as he continued to replace the various magazines in the newsstand. He thought for a minute. “That old guy comes here maybe once a week, if that. He never cause nobody any trouble you know, he just do his own thing, see. He just come in, get his shit, and leave. Why? You a cop?”, he smiled.
“Nah. You see, I live next to him and he seems like an okay guy. Doesn’t talk much, but I don’t know. I was wondering if he told you anything or do anything out of the ordinary that you can think of that didn’t seem normal?”
“Well, he smiled at me.”, the store owner quipped.
“What, you mean he was trying to pick up on you something.”, I smiled back.
“I don’t know. Maybe he just had a really good breakfast. I don’t know. Why? What the hell do you care? He’s just like any other nut that walks in here. Come on, I got other customers waiting.”
A couple of kids were waiting at the counter with a gallon of milk. I walked outside and sat on the steps. As I took a big swig of juice I could see the firetrucks pull away. A firefighter was sitting on the curb next to the ambulance, oxygen mask in hand. Apparently the conditions in Bernie’s apartment were a little too much for him. You’d figure a guy who is used to picking up the inside of some person’s head off the side of the road could deal with a little stink. Must be a new guy.
Another mystery still remained. Who or what in Bernie’s apartment caused the stench? Enough wonder, time for action. I popped the last doughnut and straightened myself to seek the truth. Just as I did however, I noticed a dark Chevy Nova parked in the alley by the store. Two dark looking men with sunglasses were staring straight at the apartment I was headed to. I tried not to pay any attention to the men as their attention had turned to me. Their stoic faces pierced the tinted glass of their car. I gingerly walked across the busy intersection to avoid a confrontation.
As I returned to the scene of Bernie’s apartment, I saw the landlady crying on somebody’s shoulder. She didn't see him across the street. I went down to her and asked about what happened .
“Oh Bernie! Oh Bernie how could you do this to me.”, she wailed. “I thought he was such a nice man. Always paid his rent in advance. Never caused no trouble to no one. Just when you think you know somebody, something like this happens. Why this? Why my Bernie?”
Some of the neighbors took her inside her room to comfort her. Somebody called for a pizza for her. Food always seemed to soothe her no mater what. I saw Donna who lived three numbers down from me. She said that his apartment was filled with all sorts of insects, bugs, and dead things. The place was turned inside out, trash everywhere. It’s a wonder that nobody noticed a stink before. She said animal control would have to come by and clean up the mess.
Well. This turned out to be just another day in my life to reflect upon when I’m older, sitting on some front porch, having a drink, thinking, “God, I’ve made it this long. Is this as good as it gets?”, moments before I have a stroke and die. Life marches onward.
So I get to thinking about how the hell I ended up here. In this rat-hole of a city that, for some reason, attracts other rats like myself. Where’s the cheese, man? Is this some laboratory maze with some bald guy in a white suit and spectacles looks down at us and just waits to see what we’ll do next?
I outstretch my middle fingers to the sky and wait. It feels good to rebel against something valued, yet, as intangible as a fleeting thought, only to react to it in a concrete sense just to give the thought validity in it’s creation. God made man, but a monkey supplied the glue.
An old lady walked by with her dog. “That’s very rude, young man”, she said clutching her pooch under the folds of her pink sweater. As she passes by, I redirect my birds in a different flight pattern toward her.
Enough fuckery. Time to get a move on...
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