Joe-Joe said “kick him in the head,” so I did.  I kicked him in the fuckin’ head.

What? You think I wanted to kick him in the head? No fuckin’ way I did. 

But I did.  I kicked him in the head. 

I didn’t kick him hard.  I just smacked my heel above his ear—turned his nose to the pavement. 

It wasn’t no stomp, but, I don’t know, I heard something.   Maybe I felt it.  Something gave, you know.  Could a been a tooth.  Maybe his nose.  

Fuck, man.  I don’t know.  

What the hell you looking at me like that for—what the hell else I gonna do? You’d a done the same.  Fuckin’ punk asked for it.  Bumped right into Joe-Joe’s space like it was vacant property or something.  Like he can go wherever, do as he please. 

Fucker shouldn’t get so drunk and be walking around like he owns the world.  Should a never left his own homestead, you know.  You get drunk like that you stay on your own real estate.  You know, you get drunk, you get stupid.  End up doin’ something dumb.  So you stay on your own turf, where it’s safe.  Otherwise you just be asking for trouble and shit. 

Joe-Joe said kick him in the head, so I did.  I ain’t proud.  Shit.   No one should be proud of that shit.  But it had to be done.  You know what I’m saying.  You let one joker trespass your zone then you advertising for everyone to come in.  There ain’t that much real estate left in the world, so you got to protect it, you know. 

We all know that.  Knew that when we saw that fool stumbling down the street all drunk like, acting like it was his street.  Knew he was trouble on the way. 

Sure enough, he bumps into Joe-Joe all stupid drunk.  Bump into Joe-Joe and asking him what the fuck he doin’ standing in the fuckin’ way.  He would a been alright he just make the apology and say, “I sorry man.  Didn’t mean to bump into you.  I’m all fucked up and don’t know no better.”  Shit, Joe-Joe would’ve just popped him one and sent him on his way.  Told him to get his sorry ass on home and that would have been the end of it.  But no, that fucker had to make an issue of it.  Like it was his space or something and Joe-Joe was the one trespassing. 

I should a popped him while he was still up.  You know, I just don’t feel right about kicking him when he’s down on the ground like that.  But he went down before I could get in a lick.  Soon as that fucker mouthed off, Joe-Joe laid one right into his gut.  Beano followed with a right cross to the side of his head.  Then Joe-Joe slammed him into the wall and he was down. 

Joe-Joe looks at me like I’d run off with his smoke or something and say, “what the fuck the matter with you, man?”

You know me.  I’m pretty much peaceable—ain’t ready to rumble ’less someone’s getting ready to pop me side the head, you know. 

Joe-Joe say, “What you doing just standing there? Kick him in the head, Ty.” 

So I did.  I kicked him in the head. 

You gonna look at Joe-Joe and say “no?”

Everything gets real slow and quiet after I do it.  The guy was moaning and shit before I stomped him, but then he just go limp, don’t make no more noise.  But shit, I only scrapped him with my heel—I hardly touched him.

Joe-Joe gave him another kick in the side, but he don’t even grunt.  Then Joe-Joe say, “come on, let’s get out a here.” 

Shit we don’t hurry or nothing.  That’s our territory.  Ain’t nobody gonna bother with our business.  Heard later that the Five-O and meat wagon showed up an hour later.  Not that we even thought they’d be coming.  Shit, just figured that guy would wake up, shake it off and stumble home.    

And now he—he’s sitting up there at Parkland General. 

What’s that? Five-O?

Shit, you think they care what happens to a bum like him.  I heard they ain’t been asking questions of no one.   Shit.  Some poor fool like him gets beaten like that every hour in this fucking city—the Man don’t care none.  Now, that been some white fool they’d be taking names, busting heads all over the hood. 

Joe-Joe said kick him in the head, so I did.  And that poor fucker’s going to be sitting in a fucking hospital for the rest of his life not knowing nothing. 

In a freaking coma.  

Sitting there pissing and shitting in diapers, having some old granny of a nurse stickin’ a spoon in his mouth three times a day, and not doing nothing but staring at the fuckin’ walls.”

Joe-Joe said, “kick him in the head.”  And I did. 

I kicked him in the fucking head over a stretch of sidewalk that ain’t worth pissing on.  And now that fucker’s got a hold of my head and I don’t think he’s ever gonna let go.