Scratch's Mark
by Admin Admin

Easy mark. You can see em coming a mile off. This one's got a baby in her arms. She'll give me a couple bucks just so I won't fuck with her kid.

She tries to walk past me but I step in front of her and stick out my hand.

Watch it. Women's dangerous.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you. I got no food and I was hoping you could spare a dollar so I could buy a sandwich."

"I don't..." She stops and looks at me. Big mistake. Never look a con in the eye.

She don't know you ain't right. She don't know you ain't human.

A quiet voice just over my left shoulder.

"Well..."

"Please." I say. "I won't hurt you. Just hungry."

She shifts the kid onto one arm and reaches into her pocket. Nice looking lady. High heels. Long blonde hair. Pretty green eyes.

She fishes in her pocket with one hand, the baby in the other.

Slap that bitch! Fuck her up!

She looks up at me, eyes wide. I must have twitched. I just smile at her. I still got good teeth, people like my smile. I call the loud voice Scratch, because he's mean. Always wants me to hurt people. I don't listen. I'm a good man, never hurt nobody.

Her eyes narrow down as she pulls her hand out of her pocket.

"This is all I have."

She hands me two folded dollar bills and a few coins.

You just a worthless nigger. Wish she would've pulled a gun and shot your sorry ass.

"Thank you, ma'am." I touch her hand a little as I take the money. I just want to feel people sometimes, see if they are real. She doesn't seem to mind. "You're a good lady. God bless you."

"Take care." She says, stepping forward a little. I step out of her way and watch her walk away. Nice looking woman like that would never have nothing to do with me.

I can still smell her perfume. Not too strong, just a little good smell left after she's gone. Before I know it I'm walking after her. I guess you could say following her.

She walks away without looking back. Gets to her car, new and black and shiny. As she turns to put the key in the door she sees me.

She hates you. She's better than you.

Take her baby. Make that bitch pay.

"Stop." She says. I do.

"I'm sorry." I say. "You're so pretty, I just wanted to look at you again real quick. I'll go on."

But I don't. I stand there and look at her. And she looks at me. We look at each other and we ain't thinking the same things at all, I can tell.

She ain't happy with her man. She needs it. You got to give it to her. 

I can see her throat throbbing from her heart beating so fast. Like when you play somebody in poker and they ain't got shit but they don't want you to know. Her eyes are getting watery.

Do it, goddamn it! Fuck her up!

"Is everything ok?"

I look away from her and see two white men coming up the sidewalk. Watching me watch her.

They can hear us.

"Thank you." I say, and I wave my hand to her and turn away.

I can hear her start to cry behind me. It ain't my fault. I never wanted to hurt her. I just like to look at pretty girls.

You got lucky. She was just gonna laugh at you.

I'm cold. The sun is starting to go down but I got three and a half dollars in my pocket now, enough to buy myself a little something to drink. Just a little something to warm me up. Maybe even shut down Scratch. He don't talk if I drink enough.

It's only a couple of blocks to the store. They know me there, they won't give me trouble. Sometimes the fat lady will even give me a pack of crackers or a cookie.

There's another white lady outside the bar on the way there. Smoking a cigarette. She isn't very pretty. Bony nose. Bushy eyebrows. Dull brown eyes.

She's still too good for you.

"Could I borrow a cigarette?" I ask.

She gives me one without thinking and looks away.

"You look pretty." I tell her. I don't know why I say it. She ain't pretty.

"Go away." She says real loud.

I take my cigarette and smoke it on the way to the store. It's only a minute or two walk so I stub it out at the door and put it in my pocket.

My fat lady is at the front desk. She smiles at me and I smile back. I walk to the back corner and get a 40 ounce bottle of Steel Reserve. Ought to be enough.

When I get to the counter she has a sugar cookie wrapped in paper for me. She takes the money and pushes the cookie at me.

I look up at her and think about how I should tell her she's pretty, too. But I just can't.

"What's the matter, Rascal?" she asks, "You look like you've been crying."

Punch her in the face. Break her nose.

I look at her. She's kind of pretty, I guess.

"I just need a drink."