Percival Everett - Erasure

Willy double over and he look at me like to say, “Why?” I yell at him. I be standin over him yellin at the back of his head. “Cause you aint shit!” I say. “Cause you made me, muthafucka! Cause I aint shit!” I be cryin now and I think I hear sumpin out at the street. I run again.

I falls asleep in the basement of an empty buildin.

I has a dream. In the dream this big white man tryin me out for a basketball team. He makin me run laps round the court. Lap after lap after lap. And everytime I comes by him he laughin harder. So, finally I stops and looks at him and I ax, “What you laughin at?”

“You runnin the wrong way, nigger,” he say.

“Why dint you say sumpin,” I say. Then I turn around and start runnin the opposite direction. And everytime I pass by him he laughin harder again. So, I stops and stares at him. “What the fuck so funny now?” I ax.

“You’re running with your left foot first,” he say.

“What you talkin bout?” I ax. I dont understand. “I s’posed to start on my right foot?”

“No, but it’s supposed to fall first every time,” he say. “It don’t matter which one you start with.”

“I don’t get it,” I say.

“Okay, forget that,” he say. “Try running backwards.”

I run twenty laps backward and my legs be achin and I realize that I aint got on no shoes and my feet be bleedin. And then Willy is runnin backwards beside me, keepin up with me. The coach nods at me everytime I come by. I look over at Willy and he’s smilin.

“See, it aint so bad,” he say.

“What you doin here?” I say.

“I come to tell you that you was wrong,” he say.

“Bout what?” I ax.

“You say you aint shit,” he say. “You say I aint shit. Well, I is shit and so is you.” He laughs loud and stops runnin. I pass by the coach and he be laughin too.

I wakes up the next mornin sweatin like a fuckin pig and I be stank. I crawls outta that hole and the light hurts my eyes. I duck through the alleys until I come up to the back of the pool hall. I climb up the fire escape and gets in through the bafroom window. I splash water on my face and then I just sits there for a while, restin, wonderin where I’m gone go. I falls asleep again in one of the stalls.

When I wakes up I hear balls breakin on a table outside. I opens the door and takes a peek and I see Yellow and Tito playin a game. I walk out there but I stay in the shadows. Yellow see me.

“Nigger, what you doin here?” he say, tryin to keep his voice down.

Tito come over. “Man, you hotta than a Swisher Sweet.”

“You been on the TV non-stop,” Yellow say. “They gone gas yo’ ass.”

“Shit,” I say. “They don’t gas you for rape and runnin.”

“They does fo’ murder,” Yellow say. “They caught yo’ butt on the security cam shootin that K’rean.”

“Oh shit,” I say.

“Oh shit is right,” Tito say.

“Who dat back there?” the fat man call to Tito and Yellow.

“Aint nobody but us, Pops,” Tito say.

I ducks down in the hallway.

“What you gone do?” Yellow ax.

“I guess I’ll go down to Mexico,” I say.

“Nigger, you dont eben speak Spanish,” Yellow say.

“So what,” I say. “Them muthafuckas come up here and they dont speak no American.”

“Police been here lookin for you,” Tito say. “Fat Man look at yo’ picture and took they card. There’s a reward. He’ll drop a dime on yo’ ass in second.”

“Buncha niggers would,” I say. “I need a car.”

“We aint got a car,” Tito say.

“Get me one,” I say.

“And why should we get yo’ stupid ass a car?” Yellow ax.

“Cause I’m a brother,” I says.

“Fuck that shit,” Tito say. “You just lucky we aint turnin yo’ ass in.”

“That how you treat a brother?” I say.

“Who dat?” that fat bastard say again.

“Nobody, Pops,” Tito say.

“Is it that Snookie Cane Show nigger?” Fat Man say. “Where my phone.”

I jumps up and run to the desk. I be pointin my pistol at him, but he keep dialin. “Hang up, Fatso!” I yell. But he keep pushin in the number. I rip the phone out the wall. I stick the gun in his face. “You still drive that piece-a-shit Ford?” I ax.

“It aint no piece-a-shit,” he say.

“Give me the keys,” I say.

“You bet give him the keys, Pops,” Tito say.

The fat man reach into his pocket and give me the keys.

“Awright,” I say. “Awright. Now, dont go runnin to the cops. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” the fat man say.

Then I point the gun at Yellow and Tito. “You, too!”

“Okay,” Tito say.

I be in that fuckin Ford Torino belong to Fat Man. It from the sebenties and it be dirty as shit. Beer cans and burger wrappers be all on the floor. The thing put smoke out the back and the engine be soundin like a jar full of pins. I can see a piece of the vinyl roof flappin in the wind on the passenger side. I member how smooth that Dalton car drove. It was like a cloud and I was floatin somewhere above all this shit. Everybody else floatin, so why not me?

Then I hears the choppin of blades and I sees people on the street lookin up and I just knows there be a helicopter spotted me. I look in the mirror and I see a cruiser way off. But he comin. They always be comin. I turns onto the 101 and the traffic be thick but I speeds on through them cars, blowin my horn and usin the shoulder. People be gettin out the way. There is a couple of cruisers behind me now. They lights be on, but they hangin back. I see a sign for Union Station and I think SHIT, cause I’m goin the wrong muthafuckin direction. I swings off and head down some side streets. Maybe the chopper cain’t see me for the trees, I thinks. The cruisers still back there and now I be passin some at the intersections. I gets back on the 101. I know it go south. They be behind me and above me and be drivin a hole in the highway.

Somehow I end up goin the wrong way again. I be on that 60 headin to Riverside. I know cause I gots a cousin who live there. He used to live out there. Nigger got shot for pokin round a speed lab. Niggers always wanna be gettin sumpin fo’ free.

I turns on the radio and hear they be talkin bout me. I can see a news helicopter off to the side, but it be from the telebision. I can see the cameraman hangin out and pointin it at me. Hey, I be on the telebision three times in two days. My heart feel all big. I press harder on the gas. There aint much gas in this fucker and there bout six cruisers behind me now. Sheriff cars be back there now.

I drives past Ontario and Chino and I miss the 15 headin souf to Mexico. I drives through Riverside and I’m sho’nuff bout to run outta gas and I turns onto the 215 headin souf, but I know I gotta get off the freeways. I gets off and I’m drivin through someplace call Moreno Valley and the car startin to knock and shake and them cruisers still back there and them helicopters still choppin up the air. I wave to the camera.

I pull into the post office, jumps out the car and runs in. I shoot my gun into the ceilin and people start screamin. I yells for them to shut up. “Shut up!” I says. “Everybody get down on the flo’!” I screams. They gets down but one old lady is goin slow. “I say DOWN!” I yells at her and she start cryin.

The police be outside. Must be twenty cars. I can see them through the big window.

A black cop call to me on one them horns. “Van Go Jenkins!” he say. “It’s all over, son! Time to call it quits!”

“I aint quittin nuffin!” I yell back through the glass. But he aint hear me. I points to a skinny blond girl. “Come here!” She crawl to me. “Get up!” She stand up and I grab her round her neck and put the gun to her head. I walk to the door and lean out with her in fronta me. “I’ll shoot her!” I shout. The girl be cryin. “I swear to God I’ll shoot her.”