Blackhumouristpress's Blog

July 9, 2013

I’d Buy a Gun

Abe had a razor thin beard and moustache, wore tight jeans with pointy white shoes and smelled of cologne to the point that the bulletproof room that he did business behind, always smelled like Axe. Abe told people he was Persian and most Americans who asked his nationality assumed he came from the same land as carpets and cats that were also Persian too. Abe learned early on that claiming to be Iranian drew negativity to his gas station/pawn shop/video gambling hall.
Abe changed his named from Abufasal upon learning that an American president by the name of Abe, set slaves free.
“Bro… I was named after Lincoln. I’m on your side, bro. You want King Cobra or Olde English 800?”
Abe was a quick study in Americana and learned fast that there was money to be made off of liquor, gambling and desperation of the poor and addicted by loaning money and buying jewelry. Abe drove a Mercedes sedan that he bought off of a businessman in Johannesburg that was bullet proof and had the capabilities of spraying tear gas. Abe made thousands of dollars a day, lived in a nice house with his Russian girlfriend and life was good. Abe exploited a segment of society that was there for the taking. All was well until Illinois passed a concealed weapon law. Abe knew that people packing heat while drinking and gambling, could lead to trouble. One hot and humid evening, things came to a head.
At 12:03am on a Friday in July, a woman wearing a black shroud from head to toe with only a slit for her eyes, ran her car into the back of a Dodge truck with Mississippi plates that read “Johnny reb” with a large confederate flag that hung across the back window. The owner of the truck, bred pit bulls and had just delivered three dogs to some “colored folk” on Chicago’s west side. Johnny Reb was purchasing Kodiak chewing tobacco, some gas, a Red bull and a Barely Legal Magazine. He would make Mississippi by daybreak if he drove through the night. A squeegee man came into the mini mart to report the fender bender to Johnny Reb.
“Eh man… That yo red truck with the fucked up flag in the back?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Well them terrorist looking motherfuckers, side swiped yo shit?”
Johnny Reb was about to walk out of the mini mart without paying when Abe locked the door. Johnny Reb pushed and pushed until Abe’s voice came on the loud speaker.
“If you vant the Barely Legal, chewing tobacco and the Red Bull, you must pay for that first. I don’t have a lay away program for these items.”
Just as Johnny Reb was getting his change, a female figure, escorted by a Middle Eastern male, entered the mini mart. She seemed to float in like a ghost. All Johnny Reb could see was her eyes. Johnny went out to inspect his vehicle and noticed green paint on his truck that was badly scratched. Johnny Reb came marching back.
“All y’all sand Negroes gone hafta pay foh the damage to mah gawd damn truck.”
The male brushed Johnny Reb off with a flick of the wrist.
“I know nothing of your truck, sir.”
“Yeah… Well this here man seen you hit mah truck… Tell em, dude.”
“Did you call them negroes?”
“Bitch, did you see them hit mah car or not?”
“Bitch? Whose you talking to? You better git into yo damn truck and git the fuck back to Mississippi or wherever the fuck you from. We don’t sit at the back of no fucking bus up here.”
With that, Johnny Reb pulled out a gun and pointed at the squeegee man and then at the Muslim couple.
“You people up here are all fucked up and I ain’t got no time foh bullshit. We can do this the right way or somebody gone pay foh this with they life.”
At that moment, in the mini market a Vietnam Vet pulled a gun, a Mexican gangbanger, A White Sox Fan, a Cubs Fan and a Baptist Minister and a frail white woman with two cats, a hybrid car with several Obama stickers all had guns drawn at each other in the mini mart. The only safe person was Abe behind the bulletproof glass. Abe pulled the microphone towards his mouth and slowly spoke.
“This is America, man. People are created equal to do what they want and dress how they want and believes in god or not. Your forefathers didn’t die so that you could come up in this place and kill one an other. Independence Day should mean something to us all. You all came across the ocean on the Mayflower, right? I’m going to ask all of you to put down your guns and be sensible. Who wants a red wine or Jolly Ranchers? Lets have something here and chill out.”
A shot was never fired that night, a day after Independence Day. A day that represented freedom from tyranny and to others, a day off with liquor and fireworks. Some might have reasoned that the fact that everyone in the mini market/gas station/video gambling/pawn shop had guns, helped diffuse the situation. Then again it could have been Abe’s words that touched everyone and made them take a step back and appreciate that they were Americans, living in the best, most capable and powerful nation that god ever thought of creating. Then again, it was probably the guns.

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