VI - American Demons

It was a noise, a madcap wailing, accompanied by a jangling sound, like an old, rusted tambourine. It was singing -- raspy, atonal singing.

This little light o' miiiiiine
I'm gon' let it shiiiiine
This little light o'miiiiine
I'm gon' let it shiiiiine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shiiiiiiiiiiiine, Tunisian tea...ha!

A homeless man had made his way toward the line. He was a stinking mess of rags, hair, and dirt. A few stray coins jingled around in his paper cup -- the percussion section. He began again:

This little light o' miiiiiine (Tunisian tea)
I'm gon' let it shiiiiine (on Tunisian tea)
This little light o'miiiiine (Tunisian tea)
I'm gon' let it shiiiiine (on Tunisian tea)
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shiiiiiiiiiiiine

Billy watched him do his tap dance. There was something familiar about it all. About the man's movements, his face. Then he remembered -- the bathroom the other day, that disgusting offer. Could it be? Could it be the same bum, back for more? Was it odd that, in some strange way Billy was hoping that it was?

"Disgusting" K-Rock said. "Absolutely disgusting."

The bum surveyed the line, looking for his mark, that pathetic son of a bitch who might slip him some bills just to make him go away. He zeroed in on Radish. "Hey man. Help a brother get some Tunisian tea, man."

"I don't have any money to give you" Radish replied, irritated. "I've only got enough for one."

"Well I've only got enough for none, homo." He spat on the ground.

"Excuse me, that is not appropriate language. Not at all. Not acceptable. My friend right here happens to be a homosexual" Radish said, as everyone in line turned around to look at Billy. So that's what one looked like.

"Oh is that right?" The homeless man looked at Billy and smirked.

"He suffers from demons. Voices. He's got enough trouble already. Leave him alone" said Radish.

"Voices, eh?" The bum wobbled over to Billy. "What kinda voices 'you hear?"

"None. No voices" Billy said.

"Don't go lyin' now."

"It's not a lie. My friend is just confused. He's very gullible. People tell him things."

"That's true, I am" Radish chimed in.

Billy looked at the bum and felt a sudden sense of confidence. He was sure it was the same man he saw a few days ago in the bathroom, who made that disgusting offer. Billy felt as if he had power over him. He knew something... that secret. It was like a concealed weapon he could reveal at any time, instantly swinging the encounter in his favor. Emboldened, Billy stepped up his tone. "You don't remember me?"

"Remember you? Remember you from what, boy?"

"Stuckey's. About two miles over yonder." The bum looked him over. He didn't remember. It was clear to Billy now that what had transpired that day, what had shocked him to his core, was routine for the bum. "You don't remember? You don't remember what you said? What you said you'd do? Is that what you do every day you... you sicko?"

"Do what every day?"

"Do you really want me to say it? You really don't remember me? The coupon?"

Now the bum remembered. The coupon. The fucking coupon. Enraged, he rushed Billy, grabbed and shook him. "That coupon! That coupon was bullshit! I had to buy a whole meal just to get a free soda. But the damn meal already comes with a free soda. Why do I need two fountain sodas? I gotta carry around a whole fountain soda all day? That shit's flatter than an eight year-old girl."

"Let me go!" Billy screamed, struggling. But muscular as he was, he was still a small specimen of a man, easily overpowered by the hulking bum, whose coal-black hands left fingerprints all over Billy's collar and royal blue vest. "Put me down now! I have no money, nothing against you, please!"

"You and your bullshit coupons!" The bum pulled out a knife and held it to Billy's throat. "You're gonna buy me a Tunisian tea. A free Tunisian tea. Consider this" he said, pressing the knife against Billy's Adam's apple "my god damn coupon."

Billy struggled. The people in line, not knowing what to do, looked to Dougie. They were looking for him to do something, anything. He was powerful, in charge -- wasn't he? Dougie felt this obligation, but resisted action as long as he reasonably could. Now there was a knife at a boy's throat.

Dougie cleared his throat. "Unhand that boy!" he screamed, keeping his distance.

The bum turned to look at Dougie. "Says who?"

"Says the Secretary of State of the United States of America. Put down the knife, you are under arrest" Dougie said, in a stoic, authoritative voice.

The bum, eyes still fixated on Dougie, released Billy and dropped the knife. He was mesmerized, holding Dougie's gaze as if his face were a Magic Eye painting.

The people in line clapped.

"Dougie?" the bum said, transfixed.

Dougie felt a strange sensation in his spine. How did he know this man? What about that face seemed familiar? He couldn't quite place his finger on it. Then he saw it. The tattoo. It couldn't be. Impossible. Could it? Was it?

"Rabble?!""