The Start of My New Life

After my shift at the store, I got my usual burger and read a little of the paper, although my concentration was divided. I'd decided right after I got the letter, I would see this through—after all, what else did I have on my agenda? Yeah, right; go back to my little room and watch TV. I had nothing really to lose. Most everything is gone, except for my pretend life with the same future as yesterday.

At 9:30 on the dot (I still have my good hiking watch), a cab drove up and stopped. "You Fred?" the driver said. I climbed in the back seat and we started. He said nothing to me the entire time. About thirty minutes later, the cab stopped in the middle of a block in a decidedly seedy part of the city—crap all over the sidewalk and guys walking with their hands in the front pockets, stooped over and looking at the ground. No one looked up or at anyone else.

I got out of the cab and the driver said he'd be back in 30 minutes to take me home. He threw a cell phone at me through the window. I've read books and have seen TV dramas where someone gets a pay-phone call, but it's difficult to find one of those anywhere.

Less than a minute later, the cell phone buzzed—not ring like a phone, buzzed and the keys started flashing. I pushed the green button to answer the call and I heard a voice like one of those robotic computerized, non-gender-specific ones.

The phone said, "Fred," but I couldn't tell whether it was a question or statement, so I just listened. The voice then asked a question, "Is this Fred?"

I told the voice that I hate talking to robots; nothing against them, you know, just don't see any meaningful relationship developing with a robot.

The voice said, "I want you to kill someone." No "Hi, how are you," no beating around the bush; just "I want you to kill someone."

I surprised myself by saying, "Who?" Not "What the Fuck" or "You got to be out of your freakin' mind!" just "Who?"

The voice said, "twenty thousand dollars... cash".

So, that's what we've come to, is it? People are just a commodity and someone's life can be bought. Don't care about names, family, friends or anything else.

The funny part was, I didn't say no. I didn't say anything. Would not saying no be a yes? I didn't know.

The voice said, "Don't answer yes or no. Turn off the phone and the car will take you back. If your answer is yes, turn the phone back on by this time tomorrow; if no, break the phone into pieces and dispose of it in a dumpster." Then the line disconnected.

Well, isn't this something. Now, I have a future, if I want it. I don't know if I could kill anyone, even though I felt like I wanted to strangle Debbie, every once in a while. But, I'd never do it. Oh, I've had my share of school-yard fights; won some, lost some; but I've never came really close to really killing anyone.

I looked up from the phone, saw a liquor store at the end of the block, put the phone in my pocket and headed off to by a new bottle of scotch. There was plenty of time to make up my mind on what I would say tomorrow.

I stayed in the store a while looking at what they had to offer. "Chivas would be good," I thought. But, if I bought a bottle of 12-year-old, I wouldn't have much money left. So, I went with cheap.

If you've ever had cheap scotch, you know how it bites... not bites as in it sucks, bites as in it is a harsh liquor, not smooth like an aged one. With a new, cheap bottle of scotch in hand, I slowly started back to where the cab had dropped me off and noticed, for the first time, the temperature dropping quickly. With just slacks and a polo shirt, it was getting near uncomfortable. I glanced at my watch, I and saw I had about five minutes before my ride came back. And that's when someone said, "Give me your watch."

Shit, I thought. I just wanted to get back to my room and relax, but had another five minutes before my ride showed up. I looked up. This guy was about three or four inches taller than me and I'm near six feet. He had linebacker shoulders and a knife.

"Asshole," he said, "gimme the watch, now, and gimme your money". Then he pulled his knife hand up further so I could see it better.

When I started seventh grade, an eighth grader, Bob-The-Boss, came up to me and gave me a knee in the balls. I dropped to the floor and cried like a baby, dropping all my books and papers. No one helped me.

For days, I felt shamed and humiliated... wouldn't look anyone in the eye. This was the start of junior high and I had three years to go; two of them with Bob-The-Boss.

I don't know what really happened, but a few weeks later I was walking down the hallway, going to class and I saw Bob in front of me, with his back turned. I came up behind him and put a sharpened pencil up to his neck, under his chin. My other hand on the back of his neck so he couldn't pull away.

In a quiet voice, I said, "Do you want to die?

He said nothing. Didn't move. Just stayed quiet. So, I asked him again, still in a quiet voice, almost whispering. "Do you want to die?"

His friend and accomplice, Jack, stood back and with eyes wide, just watched.

I pushed the pencil deeper, making an impression in his neck and drawing a drop of blood.

"Answer me," I said. "Do you want to die?"

He finally said no and I turned him around and looked into his eyes so he could see me.

About this time in my life, I was studying magic, both close-up and illusions. I had mastered the classic palm, finger palm, edge palm, French drop and more. A friend of mine told me every time I did the "magic" part, my eyes got wide. That's called a "tell". Just like in poker when you look at your hand or watch someone else's bet. If your eyes give away something, it's a tell. I had learned to keep my eyes steady and this is what I did with Bob. To him, I was as serious as anyone he has ever met; clear, focused, and ready to follow through.

As I looked at Bob, I told him if he ever bothered me again, I was going to remove his eyes and then kill him and I said all this while steadily looking right at his pupils. He had to believe me.

"Okay," I said and nodded my head. "Okay," he said. He didn't nod his head.

I put the pencil back into the pocket protector, in my shirt pocket and walked away. He never bothered me again and, in high school, we actually worked together.

So, here I was with this giant standing in front of me, holding a knife and demanding my watch and money.