Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Nov 5, 2018

Keep Your Thoughts To Yourself

Standing in line to place my order at the fast food joint my mind is filled with all the negative things which are attributed to standing in line at a fast food joint.
One of those things is if they actually hear your order or if they are so miserable because of the work conditions that they are inadvertently tuning you out? The other is that the drive-thru has mounted cameras here and there, so they can see your facial expressions and body language in the positive and the obnoxiously negative. Sometimes. they purposely say nothing and watch while you wait in frustration. The third is the cashier whether at the drive-thru or at the counter who truly hates his or herself and the job and cannot comprehend the value of a hard earned dollar. They deserve to have their faces kicked in. All these thoughts fire rapidly through my brain as I scan the computerized menu already knowing what I want because the menu is the same and it never changes. Two people ahead of me, the sweet old local woman is scanning the same menu and rubbing her chin while the young male cashier waits patiently. She hasn't said a word yet but in the meantime, she manages to put her glasses on. She crooks her head to one side, I can see she's decided because she points her gnarled weathered finger toward the image of the fish sandwich.

The man behind her is wearing a suede coat which has obvious traces of raindrops on the back and the shoulders. I can see him shaking his head back and forth and suddenly his shoulders and neck muscles bunch up and he lifts both hands into the air and grabs the old woman by the shoulders and throws her to the ground.

"Hurry the fuck up!!!" He screams at her. "Why is it taking so fucking long to order a mutha fucking sandwich! It's the same fucking menu every fucking day!"

The woman is so badly rattled that its clear by her facial expression that her predicament has not dawned on her yet, but before comprehension can even visit her mind, the man in front of me cocks his olive drab pant leg back and with his Red Wing steel toe work boot he kicks the old woman square in the face. There's a loud sharp popping sound like that of a hammer hitting a coconut as it cracks into pieces, except this sound was a lot more sickening. The poor old lady died instantly but the man in front of me continued to kick and stomp on the old woman until a bunch of us grabbed him and held him down. He didn't resist, he accepted it, he relaxed, he exhaled and stared at the ceiling and waited. The police arrived in less than a few minutes and whisked the demented man away, but not before they walked him pass me fully cuffed and compliant.

He looked me straight in the eye and said, "I was reading your mind brother, I thought I'd do you a favor." He winked and smiled then and said, "Keep thinking those thoughts!"

No comments:

Post a Comment