ISSN 1758-6488
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Men in Love Fiction |
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THE KNIFE.
“Hey you son of a bitch!” I walk straight at him yelling. “You planned it, to get yourself a kid!” I swing at his face, nothing like a bloody nose to take the fight out of a loudmouth fat guy, and wind up sitting on the Boardwalk, my little finger throbbing in pain. He stands over me calm and friendly.
“You fuck my wife? So now you kill me? America is strange country. In my country, it is husband, must kill you both. I come in the night-window, knife between my teeths, I stab everything. Her, you, the bed, the bed. I cry, weep, fall down.” He takes my hand, looks at the finger. “Clean break, I fix it easy. Then in my country everybody gives money to me to buy new wife. More young, more pretty, and never, so scared of the knife, will she fuck other body else. In America, I must be sorry for judo-jitsu I learned from the Communist Japanese who came to my country to learn subversion and stay to run McDonald’s. Nowhere is more subversion than by Big Mac.”
He tears the American flag. He pulls my finger straight. I almost faint with pain. He puts a Wildwood-by-the-Sea-God pen against my finger and wraps it up in strips of flag. It feels better already.
“Is one of my tricks to be doctor, in my country I am dentist. You will not try to hit me again? Don’t. I have to break more of you, and I don’t want to. I give you my wife.”
He takes me inside. He opens the back garage door, a ramp leads to the street.
“Everybody! We close today. I pay you anyhow. Be good and cheat tomorrow! Or we are all poor. And now since Clington, America has no welfare for its poors. Cheat or starve, cheat to eat is the lesson of America.”
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