splat chapter fourteen

She came in the front door ranting and raving, but the guys weren't all that interested in her story of injustice and harassment. They didn't see how it was any big deal for a guy to hit on her.

Philip was on the couch with his feet up. 'Hey, kid, calm down.'

Demetrius stood in the door of the kitchen. 'Have a beer.'

Jason lay full length on the long couch with his head resting on a pillow. 'Have a hit off the roach in the ashtray.' Apparantly, he was tonight's lucky winner for the place on the sofa all night.

Alex, sitting as ever on the short couch facing the TV, the closest to the door. 'Chill.'

'What's wrong with some guy coming on to you?' Alex wanted to know as she settled in. He was spending time calming her down; the rest of the guys went back to watching MTV.

'What's wrong is that I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable.' She shivered, remembering how close the guy got to her before she could get away, and how creepy it felt every time he looked at her breasts.

'Well, shit. Demetrius makes me uncomfortable whenever he farts. But you don't see me getting all upset about it.' He was not above gagging and choking and grabbing his throat, though.

'I'm not joking. It's sexual harassment, what he's doing, and there are laws against that.'

'Yeah, but just try complaining. You're working for a private club.'

'How come everybody knows about this but me?' she asked them all, nearly shouting. 'I thought I had rights.' They guys all looked at her.

Phillip. 'Shit.'

Demetrius. 'Not there you don't.'

Jason. 'You have fewer rights than if you were in jail.'

Alex. 'Or high school.'

She sagged. 'He does it to everyone, too.'

They all made Ah I Get It motions.

'Well then. Don't worry about it. '

'That's just his way.'

'Some guys are like that.'

'Take it as a compliment.'

'You guys don't understand. He's...' It felt like being stalked through a dream by a terrible monster with bad breath and a hairy back. 'He's persecuting me because I'm female. It's not like he's in love with me, or knows me very well. He's being pushy and aggressive. I feel like he's assaulting me. It's getting to be torture to work there. And that's not only unfair, it's illegal.'

Alex shrugged. 'So get another job.'

'But I don't want another job,' she wailed. 'Well, I do. I want to go back to the kitchen. But I want this fucker to stop bothering me, now.' She stamped her foot. 'I hate the way this makes me responsible for it all. It's like it's my fault he's harassing me.'

Alex paused to think about that, but Philip popped up. 'Well, it is your fault.' He shrugged and smiled painfully, and pointed at his chest with both hands. 'Got tits?' The others nodded their agreement.

'Yeah.'

'Right.'

'M-hm.'

'It's a hard-wiring thing with guys,' Alex explained.

'Yeah.'

'Right.'

'Hunh.'

'But you guys don't treat me like that. You're nothing like that.'

'Well...not with you.' They looked at each other uncomfortably. Alex said, 'Actually, we don't really think of you like that. You're more like a little sister.'

She thought about it. 'Well, I'm cool with that. But I don't like it that I have to either stand there and take it, or quit.'

'Welcome to the world.'

'Life sucks.'

'It's not worth getting upset about.'

'And then you die.'

The news came on, and Suzie put aside her annoyance about work and concentrated on becoming annoyed with the TV.

'Our top story tonight.' Whatshername the anchor is on in a lime green suit and a discreet gold bracelet, bright and bubbly and full of an important tale to tell, so listen up children. A graphic suggesting a traffic jam comes up over her shoulder. 'Traffic was halted on the Connector for over six hours today,' she begins. The footage shows the usual arial view of halted traffic.

'There were probly six helicopters in the same spot for over six hours today.' Jason mimicked. He had ridden his courier bike over the Connector on the Tenth Street bridge once or twice during the morning. The noise had been deafening.

The picture changes to show the entrance of the Arts Center Marta station, as hundreds of passengers wait in line to board busses. 'Marta rail tracks were flooded this morning at Arts Center Station when a sump pump failed, forcing Marta to close the station for four hours during morning rush hour and lunch. Passengers were shuttled over surface streets to Lindbergh or Midtown stations. A dozen busses were pressed into service all afternoon, tying up surface streets in Midtown and disrupting bus schedules all over the city until after rush hour.'

The scene changes to show a guy on a bridge surrounded by cops. 'As if that's not enough, just after twelve o'clock, a man climbed up on to Ralph McGill bridge, and threatened to jump onto the Connector. Traffic was halted on both sides of the Connector while police negotiated with him. He is believed to have had a gun, and stood officers off for some time by threatening suicide. Police coaxed him down after about an hour, and he's in custody tonight, being evaluated at the new Straight Path Center.'

Her expression went from stern to pained. 'The jam continued until after rush hour. Traffic was affected throughout the Metro region.'

The scene changes again to show the bridge tunnel construction on I-285, beginning to be roofed in. 'As if that's not enough, through-truck traffic is being allowed on the Connector while the new Fifth Runway is being extended out over the Perimeter. Georgia DOT estimated that trucks swelled the volume of the Connector an extra ten percent today.'

The scene changes to a helicopter view of a half-filled stadium. 'As if that wasn't enough, today was an Atlanta Braves home game.' Most of fifty thousand fans were several miles from Turner Field when the game began, sitting in parked cars with their engines off. 'Some drivers left their cars on the Connector and only returned to them at the end of the game.'

The scene changes to a close up of the Braves pitcher, looking serious. 'As if that wasn't enough, despite this unconventional show of loyalty, the Braves lost to the Padres, 7-2 in 13 innings.' She grinned in sympathy, clearly enjoying the complex weaving of events into a concise little story. Almost a poem. 'Next, a look at our weather.'

And then an ad came on.

Phillip slouched further down into the couch. 'Wow. That's why I didn't get home until dark tonight. Six hours.'

Demetrius leaned forward, excited. 'Hey, I tagged the Ralph McGill bridge once.'

Jason thought it would be too risky. 'Man, they can reach you from the top of that wire fence.'

Alex disagreed. 'Not if you jump.'

'Yeah,' Philip said. 'Or shoot yourself.'

'And go splat in the highway,' Demetrius finished.

They made splatting noises, Jason throwing himself out of the couch into the middle of the floor, Demetrius leaning down to outline him with pretend orange marker.

Alex sat back and lit a cigarette. They all lit up, except Suzie, who sank lower into the cushions to avoid a layer of blue smog that instantly materialized three feet off the floor.

Whatshername is back on. The graphic comes up, Project Ending Homelessness, in thick black letters. 'There's been progress dealing with the homeless,' she announces proudly. The graphic changes to read: Focus On Healing.

The clip shows the old prison farm, just down the hill from Suzie's hideout, all cleaned up, with a new sign out front. There is no kudzu visible in any of the background trees. The anchor continues in voiceover, 'The Straight Path Center for Rehabilitation is a new detention facility opened by the City to handle the great numbers of newly-convicted homeless people. It's more than just a prison, it's the first program of its type in the country.'

'The Straight Path is offering programs to so-called revolving door offenders, designed to resolve many of the issues that keep people from overcoming homelessness.' There's a shot of a guy baring his arm for the nurse. 'The program offers medical services, mental health counseling, and addiction recovery, providing vital help on a difficult road to recovery and self-sufficiency.'

The camera pans across the library, revealing conspiratorial knots of men in the corners, and a few lone readers. 'In addition, the center provides literacy and job training, housing referrals, and access to other government services.'

The camera cuts to an interview with a man in a suit standing in front of the building. 'The center functions almost like a half-way house,' he tells the reporter brightly. 'Local-initiative and state and federal agencies have been put in place to connect underprivileged clients with services targeted to specific nexuses of their situation. These programs direct the attention of homeless clients to some of their own core choices keeping them from achieving autonomy. We offer them the opportunity to create a new, self-enhancing lifestyle, to wipe the slate clean, and reinvent themeselves with a home, a job, and the life skills they need to become valuable members of society.'

The guys made fun of the gobbledygook, picking 'self-enhancing lifestyle' to cast the most scorn upon. Suzie thought about Jerry and how dead he looked with his head wreathed in smoke.

They were waiting for Gloria Morales to come on. She covered a lot of the local stories; they tuned into the news every night to see her perky nose and tight suit. They paid little attention to the anchor's lead-ins, but once the clips came on they leaned forward in anticipation until they heard the reporter's voice, and then came to like hunting dogs if it was Gloria. However, it was another reporter on this story, so they relaxed and waited for the next one.

Project Ending Homelessness reappears on the screen in heavy black. Whatshername the anchor looks charitable but serious as the picture changes to a shot of a warehouse with trucks being loaded in an open bay. 'Full Tummies is a volunteer organization based in Buckhead that for seven years has delivered hot meals to the homeless wherever they collect.' The screen shows footage of a truck pulled up on the side of the street, a line of homeless guys waiting to be fed.

Then the anchor's voice turns stern. 'With the passage of the new homeless law, handouts of any kind were criminalized in Atlanta, but Open Mouth volunteers have continued to operate despite several warnings from police.'

The scene changes to a shot of a brightly spot-lit area of gravel and concrete where flashing police lights glare in the white side of a cargo van parked at an unusual angle. 'Police arrived on the scene of a regular meal stop at a highway underpass at the Connector/I-20 junction last night to prevent the van from stopping.'

The scene changes to show protestors holding magic-markered signs and sitting cross legged on the ground. The anchor continues. 'After an impromptu protest, police arrested several of the volunteers and changed them with disorderly conduct.'

The scene changes to the interior of a court room. 'The organization's directors were in Court today to answer charges of operating a restaurant without a license, and numerous health code violations.'

The camera in the courtroom catches the judge looking severe, 'You people are operating just shy of aiding and abetting criminals here,' the judge says.

The camera switches to show Gloria reporting on the court steps. She's wearing a dark suit with a short skirt. The guys cheered. 'The judge conceded that her actions might be seen as harsh,' she comments briskly in a Spanish accent, 'but she insisted the organization cease and desist immediately from rendering aid and comfort to the homeless.'

She looks at the camera and frowns. 'The judge complained that not only did their actions cause a significant hazardous impact to traffic, but that garbage from their vans was a major cause of the area's rat problems.'

Gloria turns to interview the judge's clerk, beside her on the steps. 'This organization's misguided attempt to help sends an unfortunate message to the city's homeless by encouraging them to evade the law. Sadly, many of them are passing up a real chance for real help.' Gloria nods sympathetically.

An ad came on. Demetrius got up to go to the bathroom, Philip got up for more beers. They all lit cigarettes. Jason sat up and pointed a finger at the TV. 'I've delivered lots of shit to those Full Tummies guys. They're just trying to help.'

'Man, I'd hate to be homeless,' Demetrius remarked, popping his beer open. Nobody mentioned that he wasn't paying rent anywhere.

'Isn't Gloria hot?' Alex mused. 'I want to meet her. Maybe she'd like to do a story on the brave taggers of the Krog Street tunnel.' Suzie rather thought not, but didn't say anything. The others thought it was a wonderful idea, and started scheming a piece featuring Gloria herself. She'd have to interview them then.

An ad comes on, starting on a black screen. Red letters appear: Caution. A male voiceover begins, full of authority. 'Don't watch this announcement if you don't need to lose mega pounds.'

The scene opens on a field of sunflowers all cranked up toward the sun. A woman dances by, so light on her feet she floats. Strings swell in the background. A woman's voice comes up, full of compassion. 'New ConstrictaTM with patented Megaoxygel ATa has been shown in clinical trials to significantly enhance weight loss without dieting.'

The scene switches to a podium where an authoritative man points to a chart. He's an attractive silver haired fox. 'Clinical tests prove new ConstrictaTM is the best fast weight loss product available. Period.'

His voice becomes serious, confidential. 'This product should definitely not be used by people who only need to lose a few pounds.'

The screen fills with the silhouette of an enormously fat naked person. He continues. 'If, due to genetic factors beyond your control, excess body fat is adversely affecting your health and self-esteem, then this may be the cure you've been waiting for.'

The scene switches to a kitchen table where a rotund middle aged woman takes two gel caps at the start of her meal. Using X-ray vision, we see them quickly expand into a mass of goo in her stomach. She smiles.

'Discover how full you feel after just a few bites.' She continues smiling, and pushes back from the table, leaving most of her dinner. Her face looks smoother, ten years younger. She feels great.

She cleans the dishes in fast motion, getting thinner all the time. 'ConstrictaTM's active formula, XanthidreneTM, keeps you at peak energy all day.'

She is now working in the garden, raking the neighbor's yards, cleaning gutters, trimming trees; polishing cars, moving so fast she's becoming a blur. 'You'll be so busy, you won't have time to be hungry.'

Finally she slows down. She's now dressed in red party clothes, she's been to the hairdresser, and she's ready to go paint the town with Handsome. 'New ConstrictaTM with patented Megaoxygel ATa.' The voice pauses. 'From Klein-Smith, a name you trust.'

A new version of the Suspicious House Fire graphic appears, a burning rooftop against the night sky. Suzie liked it better. It was slicker. The guys made fun of the letters. 'There were two more house fires in Atlanta last night, continuing an escalating trend of what police are being slow to call arson attacks. Both of the latest fires occurred around Two o'clock this morning. The first, fatal, fire occurred on Joseph Avenue. The other was reported only ten minutes later on neighboring May Avenue, both in East Atlanta. The occupants of the second house escaped with their lives.'

The shot is the destroyed house on Joseph Avenue, a neighborhood of old rundown houses. 'One person, 83 year-old Evangeline Stevens, a long time resident of Joseph Avenue, was taken to Grady Hospital and pronounced dead on arrival, the victim of smoke inhalation.'

The reporter interviews a distraught neighbor, black, middle aged, in her housecoat. 'Nobody had no reason to burn poor Miss Steven's house down. She's a sweet old lady.' The woman sniffs back a tear and points to the smoldering pile. 'She used to sit on the porch and pass the time of day with everybody in the neighborhood. She baked cookies for my kids.' The neighbor pauses. 'Oatmeal cookies.' She puts her hands over her face and sobs.

The guys made fun of her grief.

The scene switches to the street in front of another pile of smoking rubble. The anchor continues. 'The other fire, on May Avenue, was at the home of Shantell Trace and her two young children, three years old, and eighteen months. They have no home tonight, but police say they will not be charged with homelessness, since they are now temporarily residents of a battered women and children's shelter. Police say the fires were deliberately started, and are seeking information.'

The reporter interviews a neighbor. 'They poured gasoline on the porch,' a thin black woman says. 'I seen them. I seen them dousing the place and so I called up Shantell on the phone and she grabbed the kids and got out the back door and came over to my house.'

'Wow,' Demetrius said. 'What part of East Atlanta did she say?'

The guys were interested. They were almost in East Atlanta. 'Just down Flat Shoals a ways, back in there,' Suzie offered. 'Behind Glenwood.' She drove around a lot.

'That woman,' Alex mused. 'She looks kind of familiar.'

'Over at the Zoo today,' the white middle-aged co-anchor says. He's taking his turn covering the story, because Whatshername has had enough of the panda stories, and she outranks him. 'There were groundbreaking ceremonies at Zoo Atlanta today, as the Zoo began its expansion to meet the Twenty-first Century.' The scene shows hardhatted city officials with shovels. 'Construction is estimated to be completed in about eighteen months. Zoo officials announced that parts of the Zoo will close temporarily, and park opening hours may be restricted at times.' The camera cuts to footage of pandas lolling in the sun in a concrete pen. 'But they announced that they are already planning for the gala reopening of Zoo Atlanta.'

The camera comes back into the studio. Whatshername is smiling encouragingly as the co-anchor shows off a Yogi Bear pin on his lapel. They joke about it, and the anchor confides that her kids are still thrilled about seeing Magilla.

The news cut away to a car ad.

'Filthy, disgusting animals,' Demetrius said, holding his nose as he got up to get another round of beers. 'I've seen the pandas. They're like 600 pounds. Fat, dirty slobs. Their fur's like all filthy and matted. They sleep all day, and just lay there and pee on themselves.'

'Like Philip.'

Whatshername is back. 'In other news, formerly homeless men from the new Straight Path Center have new jobs today doing construction at the Intrenchment Creek Combined Sewage Overflow Storage Tunnel Project.' She huffs with the effort and beams at the co-anchor. 'Wow, that's a mouthful.' He nods congenially.

She turns back to the camera. 'Clients at Atlanta's new Straight Path Center have been contracted to help out with the building of the city's new ten million gallon  sewage separation plant.'

The scene cuts to an interview with a hard-hatted construction official in front of  a mountain of dirt. 'We're happy to be giving these men a chance to redeem themselves,' he says, smiling. 'It's a great arrangement. The work farm, uh, new Straight Path Center isn't even a quarter of a mile away,' he says, pointing off-camera. 'It's a short walk to the site every day. The men enjoy it.'

The camera cuts back to the studio, where the anchor is smiling seriously. 'This is the first of several City -sponsored projects to put homeless people to work,' she says. 'It's a special pilot program that encourages offenders to be responsible, as convicted homeless men work to pay off their debt to society.' 

The guys spent time making fun of the concept of paying debts. Then, bored with the news, they switched channels until Adult Swim came on.

What else was news in Atlanta? Well, in the trashcan underneath the mailbox, there was another shut-off notice from Georgia Power. The guys had seen it, and could tell at a glance that it wasn't the final shut off notice, so they decided that they would call up and make payment arrangements real soon now.

Also in the trashcan was another unread official notice in a brown envelope which contained information on New Construction That Will Affect Residents Of Seaboard Avenue.

There was also a neighborhood newspaper with pictures of the Edgewood retail center,  all spanking new dirt and parking lots. The guys saw the picture on the front page, and tossed it. What they didn't see was the picture of their own apartment building on the back page, illustrating a quote from E.D. 'Ed' Collier, who was bragging about replacing it with a three story mixed-use loft complex with ground floor retail shops and cafes.

 

* * *

 next, vigilante justice in the real world