Do I actually tumble down the stairs? No. I scuttle like a bug. The soles of my hiking shoes barely touch the edge of each corrugated metal step at the backside of the inn. Now I’m on the ground & down the alley & around the corner. Why didn’t I go out the front? Why ain’t I perfect? And why has my left leg gone lame? Why are my knees cracking? Why am I not having a heart attack instead of running like a deer, like a rabbit?
I run by the poor kid layed-out on the sidewalk, 3 or 4 folks gathered around him, one kneeling checking the little guy’s lack of pulse, the crying little girl standing there with a derringer in her hand. The reality of the minature 22-caliber gun not being a toy ~ hammers her sweet little face as the tears waterfall into a lake at her feet. She just killed her brother with a gun that a clown gave her.
I’m running down the cross-street because I saw a flash of that clown turn down an alley. He is red white & blue aflutter ~ big red & blue spots on white with gold ruffles, goofy face, frizzy hair, a red ball stuck on the end of his nose. This little red ball came undone, is bouncing on the sidewalk. I kick it into the traffic as I pass ~ old horn-dog style now ~ so swiftly do I pass.
When I reach the alley down which the not-so-funny rainbow disappeared, I’m totally out of breath. I slow down. I turn the corner into the alley casually & in no hurry. I am on a sight-seeing stroll. I am a humming tourist.
There he is ~ way up the narrow back-way ~ crossing Gurley Street. Now he is behind Whiskey Row. He is on the move at a brisk pace. And now, baby, now, so am I.
In the blink of of a lizard’s eye, he is on one knee facing me with what looks like an assault rifle & scope raised & ready to fire.
I go squat behind a trash bin & pretend like I’m taking a crap. A fashionably dressed man & woman on a fancy date stroll by. They’re laughing. I straighten up and peer over the bin.
My prey is gone. I forgot to mention the clown was toting a laundry-like cloth bag ~ I presume full of goodies. That must be from where he pulled out what I presume was a deadly weapon aimed at my head. I presume it was not a toy…
~ by Rawclyde!
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