driving along downtown jamming in my car this morning, i notice my fuel has slipped below a quarter of a tank. no bueno. i stop at a gas station and begrudgingly slosh through the bleak, rainy lot to go pay. upon paying for my gas and walking to my car, at the pump farthest away from the station and closest to a random abandoned building, a man in a suit approaches me and expresses interest in exchanging info. he says he is on his lunch break and is pressed for time but he just had to stop and acknowledge me. i assume he works in an office downtown somewhere based on his suit and watch and car, and the fact that we are well, near downtown.
“why you talking to that white devil? man yousa sellout!!”
these words are hurled and crash against our ears as we’re standing there, and we look over towards the abandoned building to see an amazingly unkempt homeless man walking towards us, flailing his arms and pointing a dirty finger at me. the terms “white devil” “sellout” “white man’s b*tch” and other niceties spew from his mouth, which is encircled with a curious white, slimy, foamy substance.
understandably, i get scared. i do not want to be on the 6 ‘o clock news because some demonic druggie decided i of all people, was a white devil.
man in suit laughs, tells the druggie to shoo fly. the druggie doesn’t listen. he keeps walking towards us. man in suit turns to me, hands me a business card and says to please call him. he adds another please just in case i didn’t hear him the first time, and gets in his car and drives off. homeless druggie man keeps walking towards me yelling things about me being the devil. about my hair texture. about my clothes.
i drop man in suit’s card on the ground, watch it sink into a brown pool of rain water.