Sunday, April 10, 2011

Return of The Cracker Attacker

Tales of the Urban BearImage by James Jarvis via Flickr

When an idea is too weak to support a simple statement, it is a sign that it should be rejected. ---Marquis de Vauvenargues
      I'm kinda cranky 'cause I didn't get much sleep this morning. I worked the graveyard shift at the Arco last night from 10 until 6 in the morning, then was scheduled to double back and work the day shift at 11 a.m. Couldn't make it. Had
to pop in at 12:30. So by 6:30 tonight, I was a little cranky.
Plus there was a minor incident an hour earlier that didn't put me in very good spirits. Remember The Cracker Attacker from my previous posts? The guy who used to live at the motel who couldn't stand the thought of white people? Can't bear to look at one, much less speak with them? Well, he turned up at the Arco today and we had words.
The owner of the Arco wanted me to go out to the counter phone, the gas station phone for gas station business only, and make a call to one of his suppliers, Jetro, to find out why an order was short. A man was lying over the phone on that counter, his elbows resting on the innermost part as if he was at home watching his wife cook dinner. He wasn't doing business. The lottery line was elsewhere. I think he was trying to cut in line.
So I came up behind the lounger and said in my most courteous tone, "Excuse me, sir, I need to use that phone."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?" he yelled angrily as soon as he turned and saw I (appear) white. It was The Cracker Attacker.
"I said, sir," I repeated in a sterner, no nonsense tone, "Excuse me. I need to use that phone please."
"DON'T TALK TO ME! YOU got no business talkin' ta me! Don't speak!"
"DON'T SPEAK!" he said as he turned to leave.
"ARE YOU MY BOSS?" I asked him loudly, "You OWN me? You tell ME when I can speak and when I don't? I'LL SPEAK WHENEVER I DAMN WELL WANT and you got nothing to do with it!"
"I ain't got time for you now," he said menacingly as he glared his Cracker Attacker glare at me at the door.
"Make some time," I said as I walked towards him.
"I ain't got time. I'm goin' now."
"BYE!!!!!" I yelled after him, "BYE BYE, NOW!!!"
I feel sorry for the poor bastard. He must live in a land of hell. But I'm not gonna shed a tear for him, because the hell he lives in, he built . . . hee hee . . . as many of us do.

Some of us even live in other people's hells. Me? I'm a tourist. Sometimes I'm a tour guide:

"To your immediate left you will see the hell of those who sold their souls for a buck fifty nine. To your right is the hell of the homeless. Coming up on your left just around this next corner is the hell of roommates poorly chosen. I hope you're enjoying our Urban Nomads tour of the inner city today."
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