Saturday, March 21, 2009
The New Style

Two wiggers board the Swartz Bay bus behind the Mayfair Mall at twilight. Baggy jeans, New Style caps, neck chains. They swagger down the aisle and collapse into the seats behind me, directly opposite the Native workman who's almost dozing there, chin in hands, elbows on knees, big dirty construction boots unlaced.

-We went to the strip club!, hoots one of the kids.

-The titty bar! Where all the HOOOOOORS are!


The bus driver's eyes flick up to his rear-view mirror.

-Hold it down back there!

-Fuck you, you piece of shit!

-What's he gonna do, stop the bus?

-I'll fuck him up.

-I'll cut the fuck. I'll cut him.

The middle-aged woman seated across the aisle from me closes her book with a snap, stands up, face averted, and makes her way up the swaying aisle.


Elk Lake across the divided highway. Dark trees flashing past. A white pick-up in the parking lot starts up, putting its lights on.

-Remember the bitch at the strip club? I had my face in her tits and I was all, mmmmmmwah!


-John put a bitch's hand on his cock, once. They threw him out.

-Fucking piece of shit.

-Fucking bouncers.

Their voices subsiding.

The guy in the seat in front of me is shaking. His eyes -- darting back, careful not to catch the boys' -- say that he wants to fight but that he's afraid to.

-Look at Tonto there.

-He's asleep. He's sleeping.

-Fucking chug. Fucking piece of chug shit.

-Get off the bus, white.

-What did he say?

-Get off the bus now. White.

-Fuck you! Go back to the fucking reservation!

The native man shrugs forward. He removes his quilted work jacket, his dirty jean jacket, the green undershirt beneath it, revealing his thick brown chest and arms.

-Get. Off. The. Bus. Now. White.

-I'll fucking kill you!

-Man, there's no point. There's no point. Sit down, Jesse. Sit the fuck down.

-I'll fucking kill you piece of Indian shit!

-He doesn't know what he's saying. Please man. There's no point. Sit the fuck down Jesse!

The bus grumbles to a stop at the side of the road.

-I'll fucking fight you man. Right now. Let's go.

-Jesse get off the motherfucking bus right now!

Moon-faced wigger sways his way to the back door.

-Right now man.



-Naw man. Just go.



-What are y'all fucking looking at?

Wigger #1 steps off. The doors close.

-I want to apologize to you man.


-He, he disprespected you. He doesn't even know you. You're just minding -- minding your own--

-It's all right.

-He's my friend. But he's a fucking fool. I apologize.

-It's all right.

-It's fucking bullshit! You were just sitting there. He doesn't even fucking know you.

-It's all right boy.

-I apologize.

The teen extends his hand. The Native man converts it to a fist-bump.

-It's all right. You have a good night.

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