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the dancing images disappeared. Jeffrey turned and hit the wall
over and over again with his fists until blood peppered the white paint.
    This is what is real. This is what it feels like to be
alive. To be in control.
    The neighbor from downstairs began banging on the floor,
yelling for Jeffrey to stop making noise.
    Jeffrey knelt on the carpet.  He leaned forward and put his
mouth as close to the floor as he could.
    “FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!” he screamed to the mystery
assailant. The banging immediately stopped.  
    He watched the sun rise from his seat at the small dinette
set in his kitchen. By then he had made a decision to leave the city. He wanted
to go out and find a path for this new person he had become.
    He began packing some clothes into a duffel bag. He grabbed
his keys and headed out the door. He was going to the bank to close out his
accounts. He would figure out how to get more money when those funds ran out.
    He threw his things in the trunk of the car and turned to
get in. Ulee was walking towards him from the other side of the parking lot. He
was holding a gun. Jeffrey leaned against the car and studied the man’s face.
It was a mass of bruises and cuts. Ulee’s lips were super puffy and his nose
was swollen immensely. When Ulee noticed Jeffrey watching him, he quickened his
pace.
    Jeffrey walked to the front of the car and yanked one of the
wiper blades off. He turned just as Ulee was upon him and raising the gun.
Jeffrey brought the wiper blade down on the gunman’s wrist. The blade slapped
hard across the skin and Ulee dropped the gun to the ground with a screech.
    Jeffrey hit Ulee in the stomach. Ulee wheezed and leaned
against Jeffrey. Jeffrey took measure of the wounded man and hit him in his
swollen nose. Ulee fell to the lot, his eyes watering over and fresh blood
pouring from his poor nostrils.
    Jeffrey bent over and picked up the gun and the wiper blade.
Then he began to rip the rubber blade off the wiper bracket. He ripped it all
off completely and started tearing it into more manageable pieces. Then he bent
over Ulee.
    He pressed the gun to Ulee’s temple. The man instantly
froze, his eyes growing large.
    “Open your mouth.” Ulee complied and Jeffrey stuffed the
first handful of wiper into the hole.
    “Start chewing.” Ulee began to weep as he chewed on the foul
tasting rubber.
    “I’m leaving after today. You won’t have to eat any more of
my really great car. Well, except for the rest of this wiper. I’m going to take
your gun though. And we’ll call it even. Got it?” Ulee nodded furiously.
    Jeffrey was true to his word. Ulee ate the whole wiper.
     
     
    He drove to the bank. The gun was nestled in the glove
compartment. Jeffrey had never fired a gun in his life. But he liked the feel
of it in his hands. He wanted to fire it right now.
    After closing his accounts and stuffing the envelope full of
money into his duffel bag, Jeffrey drove down to the Flying Rabbit, a small
shooting range.
    “I just got this gun and want to learn everything about it,”
he told the young guy behind the counter. “And then I want to fire it.”
    The young man showed Jeffrey everything about the firearm.
He was a good teacher and Jeffrey was a good student.
    He was a good shot too.
     
     
    He stopped at an outdoor specialty shop and bought shells
and cleaning supplies for the gun. Then he pulled out onto LaGrange Avenue. He
would ride through the city one final time and then hit the interstate. He was
thinking he would head to the west coast. Take in California. Get a job as an
orange picker or something for a while.
    Jeffrey braked at a stoplight. There was a red Jeep stopped
in front of him. A man sat behind the wheel and a woman on the passenger side.
He could make out a baby seat in the back. A nice little family, he
thought to himself. A brief image of his mother came to mind and he quickly
pushed it away.
    The man in the jeep leaned over and slapped the woman in the
face. Jeffrey froze.