It had to happen…
Why are we here, what is my role in this society, am I an ant working and living to sustain our queen Economy?
And now, The Doggy Killer Full of Rage on New Generation FM
“Word Blood
With my pal and my gal
Stark in the dark park
With my Clark…”
“What’s wrong with him did he lose a shoe?
Fuck this shit, let’s find something else”
“mama I killed a man…” Freddie you were right
Jon was getting ready for work, like every morning he was moaning about his spell on earth, like everyone he was not doing anything about it. Could he do something about it?
“Should I put some more gel? You’re handsome as you are, but you’re in deep shit.”
He said facing the mirror.
He left his apartment in North London that he shared with a gay couple. “What a find” he thought. “Clean and affordable, plus they hardly here.”
As usual he took bus 98 to get to the station, from there he took the Bakerloo Line to Charing Cross.
He looked at his mobile phone. The latest smartphone with all the apps. What a mobile!
“45 minutes to go to work!” He told himself.
As he opened the door he heard:
“Jonathan you are LATE again!”
His manager was screaming.
He lowered his head and went straight to his locker room to change.
5 minutes later he was in front of his roaster, ready to rumble.
The restaurant was getting busy and he could hear his manager
“Fasta, Fasta!”
This morning he read on a poster in the tube “there is more to life than increasing its speed”. He had the good taste to repeat it to its manager.
Whether he got the full meaning of it or not, Jon will never know. What he does know is that he lost one more job.
Anyway a career plan in the fast food industry is not exactly what he dreamed of.
But what was he dreaming of? He did not exactly know. Could he afford to dream?
Another guy who he couldn’t remember the name, said: “we need to adapt in order to survive”. He thought that was all he was doing, surviving. He was struggling for existence, at this point he wished he had the luxury to wonder if he was struggling within a social class.
Eat, sleep, work, that’s all I do!
What did I do? What am I gonna do?
He had teary eyes…
Freddie you were right.
He was heading towards Holborn, where he had a second job. In the middle of all these suits, Bankers, Financial Advisors, Marketing Executives…
Look at them thinking they are important people working for the well being of society. I wonder…if there was no money, what would they do? How would the world organise itself? I saw a film the other day on the exchange of knowledge. Would that work? Jon pondered.
He finally reached the depot where he rented a rickshaw. He checked the bike. All right let’s go.
He started cycling from Holborn Circus toward Piccadilly Circus. On the way, he was stopped by a suit…
“How much to go to Covent Garden?”
“30”
“pence”
“ha ha” Jon said ironically. “They think they’re so smart”, he muttered between his yellow teeth. He pretended to leave.
“hold on… 10”
“15 and your on” He jumped in.
Jon thought the more they have, the less they give
All night long he collected and dropped off customers, always overcharging them.
11.30pm, lets catch a break
He stopped in front of the theatre hosting “Mamma Mia” amongst other rickshaws, he burnt a fag and ate his pasta.
Carbohydrates to keep going he thought.
The street was very animated, lights, people singing, laughing, music all around.
One thing is certain most succumbed to the pleasure of easiness, alcohol, and drugs. They hardly know the pleasure of difficulty, the pleasure of accomplishing something. Which is the problem of our generation, degenerate TV programs that degenerate us, make us believe it is easy, that we are special, that we are stars. The reality check is hard to take. We are falling hard, as we don’t even try.
Suddenly his daydream was interrupted by screams, punches were thrown, a quick movement of the crowd deserting the violent scene. A guy was now on the floor, his girlfriend was crying for help, no one moved, not even Jon, especially not Jon.
About ten young fellows were kicking the poor bastard while depriving him of its good. It didn’t last more than 10 seconds.
Jon moved on before the police came. Freddie you were right.
What the fuck is that about? What pushes youngsters like that to rob a man? Poverty, Jealousy, Education?
I can understand the thrill of a fight, but this…
What pushes youngsters to rape a girl?
Freddie you were right.
I killed one and I’ll kill them all if I could.
Sister why they did do this to you, it is so fucked up.
Tears were running along his cheeks, he was rememorizing.
Two guys took her to the basement of a building. They abused her. They raped her.
The police filed a report implying she was a bit responsible for what happened to her. The thing is…The Thing is she knew one of the guys and trusted him. She shouldn’t have.
Jon didn’t think twice, he bought a gun from Modou, a friend of his, went straight to the bottom of the stairs of his estate, the place he knew he could find his sister’s classmate, the rapist.
He was smoking a joint with some mates, while bragging…
“…you should have seen how that bitch was screaming, hahaa” the other bastard saw the weapon pointed at them, made a long face and the rapist turned toward Jon.
Jon hit him with the gun’s grip and dragged Him to the basement. There, he attached and tortured him. The hostage was imploring to be let free, saying that he didn’t know she was his sister. Jon stared at him while hitting him, again and again. And then he took his captive pants down and shot his genitals.
The rapist lost consciousness, he left him tied up and bleeding, for all he knows he is dead now.
“I hope he is” he said.
After that he borrowed the passport of a friend who vaguely looked like him.
Who can tell the difference between two white boys?
He was right; the custom at the port of Calais did barely look at him.
Freddie you were right.
I wish I’d never been born at all.
A customer brought Jon back to earth.
“How much to Camden Town?”
“Huh?”
“Are you alright buddy?” asked the guy with an American accent.
What the fuck we always have to repeat ourselves,
How are you?
What’s your name?
What do you for a living?
Boring!
How many times I’ll have to say it! Different people, same questions he thought.
“50 pounds” he said.
“A’right” he invited his companion to come in.
Shiiit I should have asked for more thought Jon.
The girl was falling asleep on the dude’s shoulder.
“She had too much to drink” he said.
Show off thought Jon, then said ironically…
“I suppose you’re her knight in shinning armour”
“A poet huh?”
Jon did not answer.
“French huh?”
“Yep”
“ A smart one!”
Jon didn’t know what triggered it, but he felt like talking to him, maybe he felt intellectually challenged…
“I used to think so. And you, you one of these cocky Americans!? ”
The client laughed
“Touché, it comes with the nationality” He dropped the attitude as he saw he was getting nowhere this way.
He carried on
“I’m Mike, I am a publisher who never misses a Friday to get pissed”
“I’m Jon”
“I can tell you are a smart boy! Do you have any ambitions other than cycling?”
“Why, I am an entrepreneur, I choose my working hours and I stay fit”
“That’s right, but you won’t be able to do it all your life”
Jon also dropped the attitude.
“I had the ambition to be happy all my life once, but I can’t afford it anymore”
“Why is that?”
“I lost this privilege a few years ago, and you know what is the most saddening thing?
I was one of the rare ones who understood very early that life is simple. People make it complicated. They want money, they want love, they want success, and they want stardom.
They forget their condition as human beings who simply need food and shelter. It is like people need something to worry about to keep going. Alimented by the media that in turn degenerates audiences into consumers. Now, I can understand people from underdeveloped countries, but all these idiots wanting nice clothes, to party, sustain this capitalistic, individualist bullshit!”
“Wow there is some anger there, am I one of these idiots?”
“In total honesty, and this is because I like you, it seems that you fit the bill”
“How’s that?”
“Mid 30’s, designer clothes, nice watch, a girlfriend from the last fashion magazine…”
Mike smiled
“You are straight forward I like that.”
“You’re cool for a stereotype”
“We are all stereotypes, even you”
“How’s that?”
“A kind of modern hippie, no fashion, no time spent on his look, but fancies idleness, what he would call philosophising, wanting to change the world but not acting on it or maybe a sad story that took him to reconsider his views on the world, which made you a convert philosopher”
Mike probably touched a nerve as it broke the conversation.
They arrived in front of Mike’s flat.
“There’s 70”
“If I accept the extra it defeats the purpose, I just need to pay my rent and eat, gimme 50, and we’re cool”
“You are a funny one, here’s my card if by any chance you have something to say and decide to put it on paper, send it to me”
“I might, cheers” Jon gave him a cheeky grin.
He left, Jon told himself “one more customer and we call it a night.”
He took the first right then the second left. He felt he had new opportunities opening to him, he could describe his experience, exteriorise his anguish, exorcise his demons of the past.
He smiled, he told himself how surprising life is.
He heard a car coming. He pulled toward the pavement. Another car was coming in front, apparently there was not enough space for the three of them, and the rickshaw was hit and thrown over several meters of tar.
He was now, lying on the road, his eyes wide open, staring at the stars. He could hear sirens approaching.
It’s all nonsense what makes sense for you doesn’t for others.
Life has just begun…
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