6/28/24

I had my second date with Michelle last night. She came to my first poetry open mic at the Train Stop. My old friend Stan who was a fairly well known Baltimore poet agreed to be the featured reader and he absolutely killed it as always, with his leather jacket beat punk rock stuff.

My old friend Kate, who I worked on the Towson University literary magazine with, also came. As did Chris and Billy. My friends Ben and Riley also showed up, a gay couple who I met at the Tuesday music open mics. Riley is a transgender man. And their friend Mitch came. My friend John was there, you know, the guy whose suggestion to treat myself led me to go on the walk that ended up sending me on my superhero trajectory. It was a good turnout. There were a few others, too, but my attention was on Michelle.

Billy read his usual dark, heroin-riddled Baltimore centric stuff. Chris always focused on wordplay and sci fi elements. His friend Nancy who like him is a member of the Baltimore Sci Fi Society was also there. Riley read some straight up amazing shit. It was a real revelation. I mean he’s gonna be famous one day if the right people find him. Kate read an amazing piece about mushrooms and interconnectivity. And Michelle read some exercises she did for one of my workshops, which were also amazing pieces. I was really impressed with the quality of the poetry people read.

And of course I read my sex riddled punk rock rants and raves and blues songs. Check some of my poems out of you haven’t. In between my lovesick depressed drivel about Mary Jane there's actually some halfway decent stuff I feel like. Other people seem to like it at least.

I talked to Gina the owner for a bit. She was quickly becoming my favorite bartender and a friend. We talked about our lives and I planned the next open mic with her. She seems to enjoy hosting them, which makes me happy. I always give her a huge tip.

Well, enough about the open mic. Hopefully I’m not boring the shit out of you, but this is a writing site so I figured I’d talk about some of my writer friends. I mean, I want to mix some real stuff from my life with my superhero fantasies. Hopefully it grounds it and makes it seem more real. I mean, most of this stuff really did happen after all.

After the open mic, Michelle, John, Riley and Ben, Billy and I all headed over to Mitch’s place to jam out on some experimental music. He lives in Bolton Hill which isn’t too far from Station North, where the Train Stop is and where I had the run ins with those four assholes who stabbed me.

John gave me some lessons on bass guitar which would be helpful the next time I played at church. Michelle held her own on the drums. Not surprising because even though she wasn’t a musician herself, she’d worked as a music journalist and photographer for a while. So after we left, Michelle and I hugged again. I know I know. Old fashioned. I still wasn’t ready to kiss her yet, though.

I went back to the van, made sure no one was around, and changed into my body armor with the red cross symbol. I’d read some stuff on my neighborhood app about a stick up artist near my Harford Road neighborhood but I figured that would have to wait. Tonight, I was hanging out in Station North.

I found some alley cats and practiced my stealth for a bit trying to sneak up on them. I actually caught one and was fairly proud of myself as it hissed and clawed at me. I let it go and it ran away.

I saw a homeless guy pissing in an alley. A homeless couple was fucking in a vacant lot and being pretty flagrant about it. One woman was walking around with her tits hanging out. A hooker maybe? That’s Baltimore for you. But none of them saw me as I snuck around in the dark hoping to find a crime developing.

I finally did as I saw a man dressed in black tailing a college girl. He drew a gun and I ran up behind him and kicked the gun out of his hand. He spun and I punched him in the face several times. He ran off into the night.

The girl smiled. “Thanks so much. I didn’t even notice him sneaking up on me.”

“No problem,“ I said. “All in a day’s work.” What was with this corny shit I kept saying to people? Comes with the territory I guess. Sorry, that was pretty corny too.

She nodded and I walked away. I found two guys beating up a guy and I approached them. They attacked me and I laid into them, leaving them bleeding in the street.

I found a third crime last night, two guys trying to pull away a woman’s purse. Again, I stopped them and beat the crap out of them. The woman thanked me. I was done for the night at that point, so I went back to my minivan, took off my armor and headed home.

This morning, I was all over Facebook and TikTok and Instagram and all that shit. Apparently someone had gotten a video of me beating up some crooks and posted it. The news interviewed two of the people I saved who were raving about me.

One person posted a video of the Baltimore Chief of Police giving a speech. “Vigilantism can get you killed. Do not do what this man is doing. We will pursue him with all of the tools and resources we have available. We need to put an end to this before it gets out of hand.” He shook his head. To some it already had.

So here I was the talk of the town. All over the internet and the news now. I was viral overnight, and for me that wasn’t good, although I have to admit, my ego wasn’t complaining. “What are they calling him?” a talk show host asked her guest.

He shrugged. “The Vigilante. That’s the name they’re using in the videos as well as in the street.”

Vigilante. I guess it could be way worse.