6/26/24

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m an angry, bitter man. I’m angry at the universe because I’m getting old. I’m angry that my hair is gray and I’m going bald. I’m angry that I can’t see for shit and I need glasses. I’m angry that my wife destroyed our family and now I’m a single dad with four kids. I’m angry at Mary Jane for picking another guy over me. I’m angry at myself for still being in love with her. I’m angry at God for letting all of this happen. And I got my staples taken out of my stab wounds yesterday so last night, I was finally able to take all of that anger and hatred and bitterness out on someone.

But let’s take a step back. So this week was similar to most for me. Fun weekend with the kids. I took them to the pool and we all swam and enjoyed the water. We went on a picnic at a park with a fun playground. I played bass at church Sunday and talked to my friend Janet who runs the Sunday School. I call her the Superintendent. We talked about the kids and the divorce. She’s been helping me get beds and stuff for the kids through the church. It really sucks that even though I have a high paying job, I can’t afford anything because I’m paying for two households while my soon to be ex-wife does nothing. That’s a rant for another day, though.

I worked every day and yesterday went to karate class after work. Paul has been grooming me to be a blue belt. I just haven’t been able to make any of the promotions yet because of kids and stuff. Then I went to the open mic at the Train Stop. Played violin and read some poems and people loved it as always. A few of us headed over to the Queen Korean Restaurant afterwards. It’s also a club and as the name, possibly unintentionally, implies, it’s a haven for the LGBT crowd, many of whom are friends of mine.

So that night, I was there with Frank, Billy, and Chris. And a transgender woman Rachel who ironically I met when Mary Jane and I were out celebrating her birthday. Rachel and I play music together sometimes. She plays country and rockabilly stuff.

I talked to Frank about music and art. He’d been an art history major in Kansas City, where he was from. A real blues guy. I talked to Chris about some fliers for an upcoming show. And Billy and I talked about some broadsides we were gonna publish together. Lots of art and music stuff.

Rachel mentioned she’d been assaulted by some guys nearby but she fended them off because she had taken karate for several years. Good for her. If I didn’t want my identity to remain anonymous maybe I could have recruited her for some help. Anyway, it definitely sounded like the neighborhood needed some cleaning up. And the guys who attacked her sounded different from the four guys in the car who’d been giving me trouble. The guys who attacked her all had white bandanas and white skull necklaces. Seemed like some sort of gang insignia.

Around one in the morning, I said bye to everyone and walked back to my mini van. What? I’m a middle aged single dad. What did you expect? Anyway, I got in the back and changed into my body armor. I checked to make sure no one was around, and got out, locking the van before I snuck into a nearby alley.

I snuck around in the dark until I found the street those four guys liked to frequent. And I waited. My anger continued to boil over as I waited. Not only was I gonna take out my life frustrations on them. I was gonna get them back for trying to kill me.

I waited a half hour. An hour. The street was empty. And I had to work the next morning. And I was already struggling a bit at my job. Finally a guy walked down the street and I saw their car show up, driving slowly behind him. They jumped out and he started running so I made my move.

I leapt out from the alley. “Hey, fuckers.”

The four guys in black turned to look at me as their quarry ran away. they started laughing and drew their knives. “Who the fuck are you?” one of them asked.

“Your worst nightmare,” was my response. I immediately regretted it. I mean what if that corny shit ended up sticking? What if “the Nightmare” ended up being my name. Actually I guess that’s not bad. Sounds more like a super villain than a superhero though. What do I care? I’m more of an antihero anyway.

So back to the story. They came at me and I high kicked a guy in the face. And those boots are pretty hard, as is the armor on the fists, so when I punched the other guys it also did quite a bit of damage. The fourth guy tried to hit me, and my block fucked up his hand pretty good. I stomped one guy for a bit and the others got back up and tried to stab me a few times but their knives deflected off. It almost seemed unfair at this point. That 2500 bucks was well spent.

So I kneed one guy in the head and uppercut his jaw, right hooked another, and roundhouse kicked the last one. They were all on the ground in pain so I took turns stomping the shit out of them. And I picked one poor random fuck and jumped on him and beat his face bloody. He spit blood out on me. “We’ve got friends. You ain’t seen the last of us whoever you are.” I punched him a few more times for good measure.

And as they all wallowed in pain, I took one of their knives and slit all four tires of their car. I threw the knife on the ground. “This is my neighborhood now. Stay the fuck out.”

“This ain’t your neighborhood,” one of them said. “You’re gonna be sorry.”

I stomped on that guy’s head a few more times for talking back. “Anyone else got anything to say?”

I left them all bleeding in the street and snuck back into the alley, heading back to my car with a shit eating grin on my face. Yeah. I’m a badass.