Don't Laugh at a Lunatic!

The air is cold, the cold that bites straight to the core, the kind of cold that is not deterred by any number of clothing layers. It is very late, and the streets have been empty for hours now. Except for me, of course. Turning my face up to the sky, I notice how weakly the stars seem to be shining. Most nights, they are the only things that help me keep away boredom. I stare up at them every night, hoping, just hoping, that they could be a distraction to the ever-stretching time. But, like every thing else in my life, they seem like they are slowly fading, slowly disappearing from my life.1

As I sit here, my back pressed against the rough red bricks of the grocery store, I notice a group of people across the street. I ponder getting up and running, to at least try to avoid the danger I’m sure that they will bring to me.2

I’m so cold, my bones feel brittle, and I know I could never make it. I’m weak from hunger, and tired from constantly having to be alert out here, from always having to look out for myself.3

Not that it matters now... trouble caught up to me anyway. I know they’re seen me already. If I seem paranoid, I’m not, just trust me. I haven’t been on my own like this for a long period of time, but... I’ve been here long enough to sniff out trouble. It’s too bad, really, that I just can’t seem to sense it quick enough.4

I pull my threadbare blankets closer around my face, until you would only be able to see my eyes between the cloth of my ratty hat and the blankets pressed against my nose if you happened to look in my direction. As far as I see it, this could mean protection from the cold, or from possible danger that could be starting across the street. Deep down, an icy fear grows inside, and I know the only thing I will have to be worrying about is the group of shadows, the group of people, coming ever closer to me.5

The voices from across the street drift over to me, drunken laughs and calls. It’s hard to tell by the sounds how many of them there are. The first of the group steps out into the deserted street, now illuminated by the yellowish glow of the street lights.6

“Do you think we can’t see you, honey?” I can see his smile from here, a lopsided grin that shows other intentions. He laughs, a guttural sound, and people behind him laugh. They step out with him, two more people. Only two more. I think that with ridiculous relief, no matter how it might sound. 7

Three against one. I have no hope. It’s strange how these contradicting thoughts run simultaneously in my mind. I press my back even harder into the wall, tensing up as all three men draw closer, still laughing madly.8

“What have we got, then, today, boys?” The first man spoke again, this time from a distance of only a few feet away.9

“Oh look at her, she’s nervous,” the second man says, as he pulls up alongside the first. “These street scum are all the same, nervous as rabbits, as if we could possibly want anything they have.” He says sarcastically. The man raises a hand to his head, running it through his thick hair. It seems like the kind of move a cocky boy in school would make, not the move of a middle aged man.10

The third man stays silent, even though my eyes dart nervously to him. He says nothing, even when the first man steps closer to me. The first man crouches down in front of me, moving closer to cup my chin and force me to look at him.11

“Well look at you, so pretty. What a spectacular find!” He turns back to look at the others, then he turns back to me.12

“What, what, you aren’t going to say anything? Normally you people beg, why aren’t you begging me?” He draws back a little, and motions with his hands. “Oh please, oh please don’t hurt me,” he mimics, a smile stretching even before he finishes the last word.13

I just stare at him, my face stony.14

The third man speaks up. “Maybe...” he stops, and shakes his head, but then continues. “Maybe she’s crazy.” 15

The second man starts to dance, singing in a high pitched voice and cackling. “Ohhh, crazy, crazy little lunatics...” He’s smacked by the first man, who just turns his attention back to me.16

“Crazy or not, they all scream in the end...” He laughs with glee.17

From behind him, I hear the squeak of shopping cart wheels on the pavement. The three men pay no attention to the intrusive sound, but they all start to laugh, even the third man, the one that I had pegged as semi- decent.18

They all start to sing at my expense.19

“Poor little crazy girl” The first man belts out.20

“Sitting on the streets..” the second man chimes in. 21

“How she’ll whirl, how she’ll yell, with a twist in the sheets!” the third man adds, obviously pleased with himself.22

The first man clutches his sides, overcome with peals of sadistic laughter.23

I close my eyes as the first bullet finds its way home. With hardly a groan, the first man, the ring leader, falls to the ground. 24

I smile inwardly. He’s leading his little pals to something more than a night of fun, now.25

The others are stunned for only seconds, as they, too, fall as the result of well placed bullets.26

I open my eyes again, to see a woman. She’s ragged, her clothes bulky and stained. She’s holding onto a rusty grocery cart with one hand, and holding a gun in the other. When my eyes travel to her face, she smiles calmly at me, a few of her teeth missing. She says to the fallen men on the ground, “Don’t laugh at a lunatic!” She places her gun in her cart. “That lunatic just might have a crazy friend,” She says as she walks away, and then she starts to whistle.