Big Sugar

Wheelchair Paul pushed on the wheelchairs’ wheels but stopped up short. “Gee-zuz Mary and Joseph, will yah lookit this Big Guy?”

Big Sugar stepped into the bathroom and stopped next to the immobile wheelchair and stared at the bloody carnage that was lying in a heap in the middle of the floor. It had once been a man but his face was a mass of unrecognizable flesh, with blood-streaked facial bones and teeth scattered at intervals just adjacent to the corpse. The man’s clothes were soaked in blood and strewn in shredded strips across the tile floor. Big Sugar walked closer and stared at the lumpy mass that had once been a human being’s face. He peered closer and closer, as if it were a rattlesnake poised to strike and Wheelchair Paul’s eyes mimicked Big Sugar’s, gazing hypnotically at the slimy corpse. Then, they both saw it, at the same instant, and both men recoiled at the sight. Big Sugar exhaled audibly and spat, “Animals, animals they are who did this mahn, they are not human beings.”

Wheelchair Paul had rolled his chair to within only a few yards of the already decomposing corpse and literally shrank back when he saw what someone had done to the man. Besides being stomped and beaten to death, someone had taken a blade to the man’s penis and had hacked it off and shoved it into his mouth. Big Sugar put his head on the man’s chest and then felt for a pulse, nothing, the man’s heart had stopped; he was gone, dead, finished with living, upon this earth. Big Sugar saw that the man’s suit, although bloodied, was an expensive one with the initials T.W. on cuff-linked shirtsleeves and suddenly a bell went off inside his cranium, as he remembered the oriental man that he had rescued earlier that evening, from another addict. He was certain that this was the same man and his hand balled up, into a massive fist. Wheelchair Paul saw his anger and barked, “Big Sugar, we’d better report this, the station’s just aroun’ ah corner—on this floor.

Big Sugar smiled at the irony of this fact but shook his head. “No Paulie—I am going after the killers mahn—I know who they are you go and report it. You know as well as I do that the po-leece nevah do nuttin’ anyway.”

Wheelchair Paul’s eyes flicked to the corpse and then back to Big Sugar. “I know it Big Man but I think they will this time!”

Big Sugar’s eyes flashed to the corpse and he knew immediately that Wheelchair Paul might be right, as he remembered the oriental man’s demeanor and dress, he was a mover and shaker, a man of wealth and power and the police were as political an organization as any other and all the killings at the Port Authority were almost always street people killing other street people, which to the police was just one less lowlife but let a wealthy man be murdered and the politicians, wealthy men themselves, came out crying law and order. Big Sugar, who felt his power came from a higher source, knew that every life was equal and he also sensed that this man had had a family and now that family would be deprived of him, and he knew that this vicious of a deed would hurt all the homeless and helpless in the Port because the police would, upon finding the corpse, make a deadly sweep of the area. He knew he had been called to protect the weak and helpless but as far as Big Sugar was concerned that included all human beings and this man had obviously been helpless at the hands of the four crack-heads that he now knew had killed him. He nodded at Wheelchair Paul and then at the door. “Aw-rye Paulie—let’s go and see the po-leece then, mahn.”

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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)