Blackhumouristpress's Blog

March 17, 2015

The Deer Rider

Filed under: humor,humour — blackhumouristpress @ 9:51 am
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“And this is your’s ma’am… I want you to know that I’m not sure what my ancestors did to you people, I know we are all created equal but then again some get to be a little more equal than others. I didn’t forget that you gave me pocket change when you were struggling to figure out how you were going to get your daughter to school and explain she can’t go to dance class any longer… I heard all of your conversation on the phone. Here is a little cash to help out with that. I appreciate you giving me enough to get a cup of coffee that day. You had nothing and you helped me… Mr. Hynes, please give this young lady the car keys and the envelope.”

Mr. Hynes, a well dress man in a suit and sun glasses, smiled and handed the woman who was fixing her hair and pulling her Tupac shirt over exposed skin as she stood dumbfounded looking at a vehicle that was so stereotypical and yet beautiful. A perfect paint job and lowered to about four inches above the ground.

“Hynes… Please show her what it can do.”

Mr. Hynes blasted the stereo system to something they both thought the young woman would appreciate. A bass filled song with expletives about having money, making money and being money. The woman counted $10,000.00 in one hundred-dollar bills while the music blared.

“I’m money, bitch and a bitch better not touch my money, bitch… When you rich, every motherfucking bitch come out with they hand out, tongue out, they cain’t believe, they cain’t conceive that I’m money… Dats right motherfucker, straight up money.”

Hynes hit a switch and the car bounced. Ham steaks, rice in bags and Faygo in two litre bottles all jumped as the car bounced. The woman cried and laughed at the same time. Chauncey took it as overwhelming gratitude and reached over and hugged the large woman, she smelled of sweat and some sort of hair product that he was not familiar with. Mr. Hynes and Chauncey pulled away and brought Elvis wigs to people going through Chemotherapy, souped up motorized scooters that could burn rubber to the elderly, mariachi bands and a man with a taco cart to hard-working Mexicans. All received gifts plus money, enough money to help them through their plight. Facelifts, breast augmentations, liposuction, wiener dogs and so on. How did this all come about?

Mr. Hynes, a respectable attorney with a nice home, nice wife, nice kids and a nice income happened to be running through a forest preserve when he felt a pain in his right arm. His arm tingled like it was asleep and then it throbbed. He stopped running and felt a gripping feeling in his chest and dropped. When he came to, there was a man hovering over him smiling. Beyond the smiling face were bare trees without leaves and the sun. Mr. Hynes thought he was already dead.

“I decided years ago that living my life against a clock, against the Dow Jones average was not going to work anymore. Monday? Friday? Fuckwith… Sleep when you’re tired and enjoy the time you have here. Work and work and work and what do you get? You get a pat on the back and a kick in the ass towards a nursing home and a crematorium… Do you ever feel like maybe you shouldn’t sleep so much? Eight hours out of twenty four just to recharge… Our batteries suck. I take four twenty minute naps a day and don’t get miss anything. Sure my mind goes where it wants… I used to watch television in my big house and got the idea that maybe I wasn’t watching the television as much as it was watching me and conditioning me to do the things that were expected of me… You wanna know what I did?”

Hynes could barely speak above a whisper…

“What?”

“I said goodbye to things and then picked up the television and threw it through the window. I asked what was the point of anything. Following, following and then let your mind fill up with shit on television… I have a large home but I spend my time out here mostly. I am the only person out here in the forest that can sneak up on a dear and ride it. The deer don’t know what to think as I hold their antlers and hug their sides with my legs. That’s when I knew I had a gift. Money left for me was left to give. There is no high like giving and feeling the euphoria between those who don’t have anything and me giving… I could really use some help… Would you like to help? Kennedy asked once ask not what you can do for your country but what others need you to do for them… Or something like that. It’s a mission and a way to set yourself free. No more heartaches over the stress of something that manifests itself in something new tomorrow… I don’t know if you can hear the trumpets in my head. It’s a call to duty… If I can’t show it, you can’t see it…”

Hynes really believed that it was a sign from god. A heart attack, a full recovery, a crazed lecture from a trust funder who lives in the forest riding deer giving away things and money to catch a high. Hynes went to work with Chauncey with the caveat that once a week he come with him to a bar where other men discussed theories and conspiracies. On a Monday night in the midwest, you can find Chauncey in a ripped pair of jeans and a t-shirt that says “Choose Life” sipping Bailey’s on ice after four twenty-minute naps in the forest in a sleeping bag. When you’re rich and crazy, you’re deep and people want to know what you think. Even if all your money was inherited.

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