King Dave Page #5

That there was no bad sh*t, no injuries.

Or dead people.

I couldn't live with that, man.

I'd go straight to the cops.

Get off the escalator,

the black guy that was on the bus.

That's a punk from Fix's crew.

The little f***er who was throwing rocks

while they were beatin' the sh*t out of me!

Kinda hard not to recognize me

with the way they tore my face up.

He starts running.

Without even thinkin', I do the same.

I'm running but I don't know what I'm gonna do.

I don't even know if I'm gonna catch him.

Christ!

The subway's f***in' packed.

And me.

And the black guy running like a madman.

And the track and the hot wires.

And me walking towards him.

And now the nigga got his back to the far wall

asking himself if he should bounce through the tunnel.

I'm closin' in on him like a bad ass, motha fucka.

He is too much of a p*ssy to jump on to the tracks.

When the nigga ran in the stairs,

people moved out of the way.

So when I come through,

I feel like a general walking through the honour guard

to punish a soldier in front of everybody.

I still remember the shape of the sole of his shoes.

The closer I get, the more I can tell

he's getting scared. This p*ssy's shaking all over.

A crown of sweatdrops on his forehead.

So I move in slow like a f***in' cement truck.

Subway chimes.

People backing up as far as they can go.

The nigga's about to lose his mind.

The train stops.

Vengeance makes my heart pump.

Doors open.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Ha Christ.

F***!

Then, man.

Don't know if I'm mad at myself for lettin' him bounce.

Or proud of myself for scarin' the sh*t out of him,

to have seen how weak he was,

how all alone he was nothin'.

No, man. No, man, he's gonna think I f***in' choked.

That I sh*t my f***in' pants, man.

That's what he's gonna think.

I can't.

I can't just leave it like this, man.

Come on you f***in' train, hurry up!

People on the ramp didn't even get on the train,

they're so confused at what just went down.

Maybe even a little disappointed.

I got one out of two chances

the nigga's comin'' my way.

And if he does, I'm gonna find out what car he's in

and I'm gonna kick his f***in' ass.

So I just bide my time, and I wait.

When I was 13, I got jumped here, same station.

I was in private school back then.

Those f***ers kept givin' me the boot.

But I was no freak, you know like.

Never sold weed or got into fights.

I couldn't even hurt a f***in' fly back then.

"Unless the fly stings you."

Family philosophy, man!

Well my Dad's actually, before he checked out.

Don't attack anyone. But just remember,

there's no limit to retaliation, boy.

At 13, I looked like nothing, man.

And my mom, to save money,

made me wear last year's private school uniform.

Was f***in' rippin' off my back.

I looked like a big doofus.

I always wore this old beret that stank of moth balls

I'd bought in some church basement.

With a pin on the side that said "Stop racism".

I was so f***in' naive, man.

No 'cuz I thought that racism had to be stopped.

It's f***in' dumb. Real f***in' dumb.

But back then, I thought if ever I got in trouble

with races, it could help.

You know, play in my favor.

So with my beret, my "Stop racism" pin,

my brand new discman,

and my silver bomber jacket,

formally known as "hot potato".

I'm waiting for the train.

Wow.

Stop racism!

Hey aver you mo?

You' we com, man'.!

ls your mother a big fat bwown mama?

No, he's a wred head!

Big bwown mamas don't have wred headed childwen.

Do they?

No, no.

And they definitely don't have the cash

to send 'em to private school.

Come on, take the headphones off,

put them in your pocket.

Take the bomber off and give it to us.

Hurry up! Don't make us push you onto the tracks.

F***in' wannabe n*gger!

You do as told, but you still remember

that exactly 2 African tribes have red hair.

You learned it in prepschool.

They took off runnin'.

Wack bastards.

It was funny to see how every adult

was looking everywhere except at me.

At 13.

Where is your coat?

And your discman?

My gum!

We can't trust you, David.

Not sure how you manage,

but you're always looking for trouble and you find it!

We won't buy you new stuff anymore

if you're not able to take care of it.

She couldn't understand you could get jacked

like that out of the blue.

Just because you're the one standing there.

We went to the cops.

They threw mugshots at me.

Lots of mugshots.

What do you think, man?

Didn't help a f***in' thing.

Big joke with their pictures.

So after that, you just cross fingers

it won't happen again.

But obviously, you didn't cross 'em hard enough.

Subway, buses, streets!

Come on y'all, come on.

Hop onto my private tour of f***in' Montreal.

10 years of my life in 17 stops. 17 stories of guys

getting pushed, punched, jacked, you name it.

Don't get it wrong.

I ain't one of the bad guys.

After that, you just change, man, no doubt.

You're scared.

It's not normal to be always scared.

F*** no, man!

It's not normal.

But one morning, in the mirror

hung on the back of my bedroom door, I saw this.

A man's build.

It jumped out at me! A man's build.

But a kid's attitude.

A little p*ssy punk b*tch?

Well enough.

These motherfuckers think they can do

what they want 'cuz people just shut up?

Enough of this sh*t.

I won't be part of it.

Ten guys jump me? Enough of this sh*t.

I'll pull out my f***in' pocket-blade,

and cut at least one of those b*tches,

he'll remember me for a while.

Someone comes up and tries to hit me,

a bomb man, a bomb.

Jab, slide, slide, counter-punch.

Bang right in his teeth!

If no one gets revenge for me,

I'll take care of it myself.

Yeah I'm still scared,

but am I gonna just walk with my head down?

No f***ing way!

I'm worth more than that.

Anytime sh*t goes down, I just wanna cry, man.

Scream like a madman.

Gets me like a f***in' cramp.

I'm f***in' scared.

So scared that it's gonna turn into rage,

when I get mad, man.

I just f***in' lose it, man!

The subway is coming. Go.

He's gonna f***in' regret it

if he is still on the train.

Fat container full of faces

flying by at high speed then slowing down.

It stops.

Doors in front of me.

Yep. I've always been the best,

setting my sh*t exactly where the doors open.

I crack my neck...

Doesn't crack, but I'm ready anyway.

Left is clear!

F***!

Are you OK?

She talkin' to me?

Sorry, I don't mean to bother you,

but you really don't look well.

Yeah, yeah, it's fine.

It's fine.

What the f*** does she want?

One of those f***in' do-gooders out to save the world?

I bounce.

Go up the stairs.

The metro takes off

in the tunnel, sucking all the air.

Air smelling like metal and dust.

Cold air smacks me like a ton of bricks, feels good.

Feel like sittin' down on the cement bench

outside the station.

No, man.

No, man.

Feel like lying down on the pavement.

On old black chewing gums, cigarette butts.

And look up at the sky.

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