Stereotype {Jack}

Jack

What the hell was I supposed to do?
Where could I turn?
My mother was dying from breast cancer, I was getting evicted from my apartment, my car broke down, I was out of a job and nobody would hire me. I had under a hundred dollars to my name, with no idea of where I could get more money. I couldn’t even buy a train pass. To keep from risking jail time by jumping over the railing to get a free ride home, I asked around for some change. It was late, and there weren’t much people around, so I was stuck with just asking the very few people that walked by.
My luck wasn’t looking too hot.
Everybody told me no, each excuse matching the one before it- they didn’t have change, cash, an extra token, blah, blah, blah. I remember being in their shoes before when people would ask me for some money and I would always deny them due to the fact that I was stingy, or I was just too damn lazy to reach into my pocket.
Karma is a bitch, aint it?
Just like life.
I really wished they were in my shoes so they could see how desperate I was.
Time was running, and it was getting colder. Nobody walked by me for some time.
I felt so pitiful, so low.
Begging?
I would have never thought I’d be a damn beggar.
How humiliating…
Finally I saw three black guys coming my way. They certainly didn’t look like they had any extra money, and I was about to just let them pass by, but I figured I should try my luck.
The worst I could get was a no, right?
“Hey my brothers,” I approached them reluctantly. They stopped and looked at me. “Do you have any change I can use to get on this train?”
They looked at each other, and immediately started to dig in their pockets. I was relieved that there was a chance, but I didn’t get my hopes up.
A second later, a dollar fifty was in my hand- the price of a train ride.
I thanked God, and then thanked them.
They started to walk to the gates, sliding their Breeze cards and easing through the railings when they opened. I guess these guys rode the train all the time. People that hardly rode the train used change, or tokens to ride. I inserted my money and slid through the railing. I went down some stairs, and saw the three boys running towards a train. I didn’t feel like running, but I didn’t know if another one would be coming soon after, so I started to run. One of the guys held the door open for me with his body as it started to close.
Two favors…that were much needed.
I thanked them again, and looked for a seat on the empty train.
The train as empty as my mind…
I needed a blunt.
I sat towards the back of the car alone, and rested my head on the back of the seat in front of me. I closed my eyes and started to think.
I wanted to think positively, but there was nothing positive going on in my life.
Nothing.
The only thing that held a chance of being positive was the fact that I was still breathing…
But was that positive?
To be honest, sometimes I felt that I’d rather die than live this life…
I pulled out my pocket knife and started to finger it.
Times like this make you want to rob somebody…kill somebody.
Take their happiness.
I just didn’t understand how some people could just have everything they ever wanted, and then some had to suffer. Why did I have to be one of the suffering? Did I deserve this?
I looked up to check out my surroundings.
There were the three guys I got the money from, and beyond them was a white guy on the other end of the train. I didn’t notice him when I first got on. I focused my vision on him.
He seemed to be a typical upper class male. The guy you saw when ‘white guy’ crossed your mind. The rich, the happy, the ‘how about those Yankees, Bill?’ type of guy. I wondered why he was on the train this late. Why was he even on the train? Where was his chauffer? He looked like he just walked out of a damn photo shoot.
He knew no pain.
He knew nothing about being without.
He probably had things brought to him on a silver platter by a butler named Farnsworth.
I looked at him with hatred in my eyes, and then I realized that he shared the same stare for the black boys sitting across from him.
I noticed how he would stare at them, and then as soon as one of them would look his way, he’d turn his gaze towards something else.
What a racist prick.
I was about to put my head down until I heard one of the guys say something to him.
I tried to listen, but I couldn’t really hear- due to the fact that they were on the other side of the car. I rested my head back on the seat.
The negative thoughts returned.
I needed money.
What would I do about getting money?
What could I do?
Nobody would hire me due to the priors on my records, and I had no transportation to even get anywhere.
What could I do?
The train stopped.
I looked up in time to see the three boys exit the train. They looked bothered. I looked at the white guy, and he gave me a smirk. The smirk told me that he probably said something smart to set the three guys off. He popped earphones from an Ipod into his ear.
I didn’t like that guy.
I didn’t like the way he was looking at the black dudes as if they were the scum of the Earth. I didn’t like how he seemed to think he was better than them; better than me.
I didn’t like that he seemed to have what I wanted.
I needed money- what could I do?
I finally knew.
I contemplated as we neared the last stop.
Was it worth it? Do I need to do this? Would I get much?
Every answer seemed to lean towards a yes.
I didn’t need to think about it…I just needed to do it.
He had money, so he would just get a scare. Then he’d bounce back.
Finally, the last stop. My heart started pounding.
This world wasn’t for me. Why was it for him?
He got up and left the train. I also exited.
Why did he deserve to have what I wanted?
He probably had a grand on him, if not- a credit card with no limit.
I followed him to the parking deck where you could park your cars, and then ride the bus or train. He had a relaxed stroll as if he had no worries in the world. That’s usually how rich people were. They didn’t have a care.
I saw his hands strumming an imaginary guitar as I got closer.
I sped up behind him, and it wasn’t until I almost stepped on him that he realized I was there. He looked behind him, saw me there, and jumped as if he were startled.
“Oh my God, it’s you!” He exclaimed. He pulled out an earpiece. “Wow. For a second I thought you were one of those three black guys on the train. I was scared for a little bit, but I knew they wouldn’t do anything to me with you on the train. What’s up, bro?”
The ignorance that poured out of his mouth sealed the deal.
“Give me your money.” I demanded. “Bro.” I added.
“Huh?” He looked confused as if he didn't understand- as if this could never happen to him. Oh, the naïve.
“Give me your fucking money!” I raised my voice, and pulled my knife out of my pocket and showed it to him. “I’m not playing. I don’t have time for this. Give me the iPod, and your money. Now!”
His expression changed from flabbergasted to petrified.
I stayed my place, and demanded what I wanted once again.
He took his time taking off the other iPod earplug.
“Hurry the fuck up! I have no time to waste!” I looked around to make sure there was nobody else around. The parking lot was clear.
“Empty your pockets, man. Empty them! I want the iPod too, man.”
He gave me the iPod, and I stuffed it into my pocket. He took out his wallet, and it dropped from his hands. As I kneeled down to get it, he took off running.
I snatched up the wallet, and started to chase him, and then changed my mind.
Why chase him down? I got what I wanted.
I got what I needed.
I frantically looked around to see if there were any witnesses.
I saw no one.
I started to run.
I ran until I got out of the Marta station, and I ran some more.
I ran until I was blocks away, and the deed was behind me- yet the evidence in my hands.
I leaned against a sign to catch my breath.
Opening the wallet, my chest heaving, I was excited to see what I retrieved. I knew I had to have enough to get me off my feet- at least give me a little push towards helping myself.
I peered inside the brown wallet, and didn’t see much. An ID, some coupons, some cards, and a hundred dollar bill.
A hundred dollars?
What the hell?
Was the guy not rich? He looked like he modeled for Prada!
A disappointment.
A waste of time.
I needed to get home before the cops started to look for me. I’d be damned if I went to prison for a hundred dollars.
I backed away from the sign so I could see where I was.
Northside Drive is what the sign read.

Lucius McCall