Friday, July 23, 2004

 

KEN H

He started out as a regular kid, but then he became a wiseguy.  No one knew exactly why.  Maybe it was because he was a little short.  Maybe it was the bright red hair and the freckles.

Some of the older troublemakers in high school took him under their wing as a sort of wiseguy mascot.  So even though he was younger than we were, he was cruising around in fine style, night after night, while we were walking, riding our bikes, or waiting for rides from someone's father or older sister.

Ken was wise to everyone and no one could do a thing about it, protected as he was by his troublemaker friends.

One night, while cruising around, Ken wised off to the wrong person.  The guy driving Ken had swerved sharply, cutting off the driver in the next lane.  The driver, later identified as a steelworker on his way home from the second shift, blew his horn.  This was the signal for Ken to lean out of the passenger window, give the cutoff driver the finger, and laugh at him.

The driver didn't find this funny.  He followed the car. Ken's group pulled into the back of a parking lot of a local diner; the aggrieved driver followed.  Ken jumped out of his car, determined to insult the driver a few times before his friends got out to back him up. 

As Ken was mouthing off, the driver grabbed him, dragged him over to the edge of the parking lot, and threw him over a small retaining wall down an embankment towards a slow moving creek, all before Ken's friends had a chance to react.

As luck would have it, Ken hit his head on the way down.  By the time his friends had scrambled down, he was unconscious.  They called for an ambulance, but it was too late.  Ken was dead. Massive trauma, bleeding, etc.

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F called me the next morning and filled me in.

"I'm glad he's dead," F said.  "He was nothing but trouble."

"He gave you trouble?" I asked.  "I didn't think you even knew him."

"Listen to this," F said.  "That little creep claimed I stole his gym bag.  The school even called my house.  I was supposed to go to a meeting about it Monday morning." 

F started laughing so hard that he could barely speak.

"I guess that meeting's cancelled," he said.

"Did you?" I asked.

"Did I what?" F said.

"Did you steal the gym bag?"

"Of course," said F.  "I never liked that wise little fucker.  I took it even though I already had one.  I just did it to fuck with him. That'll teach that wise bastard."

 
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Coda:  The steelworker had witnesses.  They'd seen him get cut off.  They'd seen the passenger, then victim, make threatening gestures.  They'd seen it was four against one.  So, the original charge of murder was reduced to some sort negligent manslaughter.

I think the steelworker eventually had to pay a small fine and promise not to kill any more wiseguys.

There was some talk of retribution from Ken's friends, but nothing ever came of it.       

  

              
      






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