"You FuCKERs stole my SHIT!"
The guy looked like a little, pissed off wolfman. He was wearing purple running shorts and a drity, teal, t-shirt that read DON'T HASSLE ME I'M LOCAL! It took me a sec but I realized he used to live in my building. He'd pushed me and Mongo from behind as we left library. We fell down the front steps and now he was standing over us shaking his fist as if he was on some sort of quest for fire.
"Motherfucktards, Crotchlick landlord said he was gonna save my things -saw my pans at Goodwill-"
The dude was gone. My guess is he was evicted and had been on the street ever since.
"I want the money -found my shirts--know the girl!"
I don't know if you've ever been kicked in the face but it sucks, even if its not the most solid kick. I could taste the blood in my mouth.
"You live by the laundry 'cross from the fucking frog wanna gonna get my shit!"
I took a more few lame kicks to my shoulder but I got to my feet. The guy in the big coat selling the Street Herald handed my Clark Kent glasses which had apparently fell off my face. Mongo was already up and had circled around. There was now a crowd of onlookers.
"There is rules you know, punishment is-"
Mongo slugged the guy from the side before he could finish his sentence, a fucking haymaker that came from downtown aimed at the jaw. The Little Wolfman was now on flat on his back. I couldn't tell if he was unconcious or what. Mongo grabbed me by the arm hard and pulled me away from the crowd.
As we shuffled back to the apparment I was really pissed off. I wish I had done that, I kept thinking. I deserved the satisfaction of putting that grubby asshole down.
"My mouth hurts," I said but Mongo didn't reply.
When we got back to the apartment Mongo put some ice in a plastic grocery bag and handed it to me. I put it on my face. Then we drank bourbon and listened to the Flaming Lips, no talking.