Victims in the Park

by Gary W. Cantor

   As Johnny entered the park, he could see a man running.  The man was tall and lean and his strides were long and light.  Johnny stood and watched the man for about a minute, and then all of a sudden he heard a voice.

   �gI�fve been watching him for about a half an hour,�h the voice said.

   Johnny turned to his right and saw that Gus, who he had met the day before, was sitting on a bench about ten yards away.

   �gOh,�h Johnny said, �gI didn�ft notice you over there.  How are you?�h

   �gWell,�h Gus said, in a rather gravelly voice, �gabout the same as yesterday.  And I guess the same as tomorrow, too.�h

   Johnny nodded, and then walked over to Gus and sat down beside him.

   �gNice day,�h he said.

   �gYeah,�h Gus responded, and then he looked up.  �gIt�fs a nice day all right.  But I�fm too young to be out here enjoying it.  I should be working.  We both should be, right Johnny?�h

  �gYeah,�h Johnny said.  And then he breathed deeply as he rubbed the three-day growth of hair on his face.

  �gHave you given up looking for something new?�h Gus asked.

   �gI guess so,�h Johnny said.  �gWhat�fs the point?  At my age, I�fll never find anything new.  I guess this is where I�fll spend my days from now on.�h

  �gMe too,�h said Gus.  Then, he pointed with his chin at the runner who was now gliding along at the opposite end of the park and said, �gI wonder what his story is.�h

  �gWhat do you mean?�h asked Johnny.

  �gWhy the hell isn�ft he working?  It�fs Monday, isn�ft it?�h

   �gI don�ft know.  Maybe it�fs his day off.  Or maybe he works at home.  These days, lots of people do.  They work on computers and send things in by e-mail.  Or maybe he�fs just rich.  Who knows?�h

   �gYeah, who knows,�h said Gus.  �gAnyway,�h he added, �g I don�ft like him.�h
   �gWhy not?�h asked Johnny.

   �gHe just looks like a smug son of a bitch, that�fs all.  You know what I mean.�h

  �gI guess so.�h

   Johnny followed the movement of the runner in the distance, and as the man circled the small park and approached the bench where he and Gus were sitting, he focused in on his face.  It was a long face with a small nose and clear skin.  The man looked to be about thirty-five or so, and he reminded Johnny of an actor.  Johnny tried to remember the actor�fs name, but he couldn�ft.  He just knew that he had seen him in a number of movies, and that he always seemed to be cast opposite a beautiful actress.

  As the runner, still gliding along almost effortlessly, ran past Johnny and Gus, he smiled.  Gus smiled back, but as he did he whispered, �gWhat a bastard!�h

   Johnny nodded.  He couldn�ft put his finger on it, but something in him too made him despise that runner.

   The two men watched the runner move further and further away.  And as the distance between them increased, it seemed to both of them that his legs were getting longer and longer, and that his strides were becoming more and more efficient.

  They watched silently for about twenty or twenty five seconds, and then Gus broke the silence with a sentence that seemed to burst forth from a heavy sigh.

   �gIt�fs been a year now,�h he said.  �gHow about you, Johnny?�h

   �gYou mean how long have I been out of work?�h

   �gYeah.�h

   �gOh, about six months.�h

   �gWell,�h said Gus, �gWhat�fs your story?�h

   �gMy story?�h

   �gYeah.  You know.  Why did your company let you go?�h

   �gWell,�h Johnny started.  Then, before he continued, he hesitated and thought for a moment.  Having just met Gus the day before, he wondered if he should talk about himself.  But then he sighed, as if to tell himself �gwhat the hell does it matter,�h and went on.

  �gIt�fs like this, Gus.  The long and the short of it is that I gave half my life to my company, and �epoof,�f just like that they told me that they didn�ft need me.�h

   �gThat�fs what they said?  They didn�ft need you?�h

   �gNo.  You know how it is.  Nobody ever tells you anything like that.  Unless the guy�fs nuts, that is.  No, as I recall, my boss put it like this.  �eJohnny, my friend,�f he said.  And then he put his sweaty arm on my shoulder.  �eJohnny, this is a really sad day for me.�f  Of course, I realized it was just a bunch of bullshit, but still I let him go on.  And then, he gave it to me.  �eJohnny, the fact of the matter is that we have to cut back, and so I have to tell you that we�fre going to have to let you go.�f �h

   Johnny stopped talking and shook his head back and forth.  And Gus, showing that he understood only too well, nodded.

   �gHave to let you go,�h Gus said.  Then, he laughed.  �gGod, they�fve got some great words, don�ft they Johnny?�h

   �gThey sure do,�h agreed Johnny.  Then, he looked up and thought.  And as he recalled his boss saying those words, he muttered, �gThat bastard.�h

   Johnny looked down at his left hand, which stood on his lap, and he realized that he had made a fist.  The fist was tight and for whatever reason he felt a need to clench it as tight as he could, and he did, draining himself of a bit of excess energy.  Still, though, there was energy to burn, and so, while still looking down, he went on with his story.

   �gDo you know, Gus,�h he said, �gthat I worked there for thirty years?  Thirty years!  And it�fs not just that they let me go that burns me up.  No, that�fs just part of it.  The thing of it is, Gus, they treated me like dirt.  All the way through.�h

  �gYeah?�h Gus said.  �gHow�fs that?�h

   �gThey always gave me the shit work to do, that�fs how,�h Johnny said.  �gI sat in my office grinding out numbers and reports year after year, while all the guys who came up after me got to wine and dine clients and got all the promotions.�h

  Gus nodded, but didn�ft say anything.  Then, Johnny looked up and turned toward Gus and continued talking.

  �gWhy do you think that is, Gus?�h Johnny asked, in a challenging voice.  �gWhy do you think they treated me like that?�h

   Gus looked puzzled and shook his shoulders.

   �gI don�ft know,�h he said.  �gWhy was it?�h

   �gIt�fs the way I look, that why,�h Johnny said.

   �gWhat!�h Gus yelped.  �gWhat are you talking about?�h

   �gStand up!�h said Johnny.

   �gWhat?�h

   �gJust stand up for a minute.�h

   The two men stood up, and as they did, the runner sailed past them.  He was now moving at a pace that was considerably faster than before, but he still looked like he could go on and on and on.

   Both Johnny and Gus looked at the man, and then they turned back toward each other.

   �gSee?�h  Johnny said to Gus.  �gI don�ft even come up to your shoulders.�h

   �gYeah,�h Gus said, �gso what?  So you�fre a little short.  What�fs the big deal?�h

   �gI�fm not a little short,�h Johnny said.  �gI�fm the same height as a lot of kids in the fifth grade.  And because of that nobody ever took me seriously.�h

   �gWhat are you talking about?�h Gus said.  �gAre you trying to tell me that people discriminated against you because you�fre short?  That�fs crazy!�h

   �gCrazy?�h said Johnny.  �gYou think that�fs crazy?�h

   �gYeah,�h said Gus.  �gI�fve never heard anything so stupid in my life.  Nobody cares about short people.�h

   �gYou don�ft know what you�fre talking about,�h Johnny said.  �gYou can say that because you�fre not short.  But let me tell you.  Nobody takes a short guy seriously.  People pat you on the head, women giggle at you and call you cute, and nobody�fs gonna give a guy my height a break in the business world.  Let me tell you Gus, if I was tall, like you, believe me, I�fd still be working.  And I wouldn�ft have been given shit jobs, either.  I would have been one of the big guns in my company.  I would have been going out to lunch with clients, making presentations, and they would have put my picture on all of our promotional materials.  But they don�ft do that when you�fre five feet tall.  When you�fre five feet tall, they put you in a back room somewhere and hope that none of the clients run into you when you�fre on a coffee break.�h

  Gus looked down at Johnny and shook his head.

   �gYou don't really believe that, do you?�h he said.  �gNobody gives a damn about short people.�h  Then, after a short pause, he added,  �gBut I�fll tell you what they do care about.�h

   Gus bent down a bit, and then he placed his right index finger on the bottom of his fleshy nose and rubbed it.

  �gHere,�h he said.  �gHere�fs the kind of thing they care about.  Look at this nose.  I�fve had it all my life, this nose.  What does it look like?�h

   �gWhat do you mean?�h Johnny asked.

  �gJust what I said.  Look at the bottom of my nose and tell me what it reminds you of.�h

  Johnny was silent, so Gus went on.

   �gYou know what it reminds you of.  A ball, or a light bulb, or something like that.  People think my nose is some kind of joke, and don�ft think I�fm crazy.  I�fve seen people try to stop from laughing when they first looked at me, and kids don�ft even try to stop.  They think it�fs hilarious.�h

   �gYour nose doesn�ft look so strange,�h said Johnny.  �gThere are a lot of people with noses like yours.  That�fs no big deal.�h

   �gBullshit,�h said Gus.  �gI�fm not afraid to say it.  My nose screws up my whole face.  And it�fs not just that.  Look at this beauty,�h he said, running his finger along a scar on his right cheek.  �gIf you were running a business, would you hire a guy with a scar and my nose to boot?  Answer me that one.  Would you?�h

   �gIt wouldn�ft bother me.  Not if you could do the work.  Why?  Are you trying to tell me that you�fve lost out on jobs because of your face?�h

   �gYou�fre damn right I have.  And I�fm not just talking about recently.  All my life people have kept me down because of the way I look, and that�fs a fact.  Hell, I have more brains than all sorts of business executives.  But, because of this face, I always had to work in factories.  Nobody in an office was ever going to someone like me a job.  Are you kidding?�h

   Johnny looked intently at Gus�f face.  Then, he wheeled around and turned to his left to see the runner whiz by them again.  Johnny wondered how the man was able to keep up his pace without tiring.  Maybe he�fs a professional athlete, he thought.  Then, once again, he turned toward Gus and inspected the nose and the scar that Gus had been talking about.

   �gI still don�ft know what you�fre talking about,�h he said.  �gYou like fine.  So your nose is a little big and you have a scar.  That�fs no big deal.  Look at you, you�fre a big healthy looking guy.  All I can tell you is this.  You have absolutely no idea what it�fs like to be short.  And I�fm talking about being a short man.  Hell, in the business world, it�fs a death sentence.�h

  �gI hate to tell you this, Johnny,�h Gus said, �gbut you sound like a crybaby.  You had an office job, right?  You got your foot in the door, right?  So what in the hell are you complaining about?  If everyone was really against you because you�fre short, you would have never gotten a chance.  But you did.  You just blew it, that�fs all.  I�fve got a feeling about you, pal.  I think you�fre one of those whiners, that�fs all.  Short people! Hah?  Don�ft make me laugh.�h

   Johnny looked into Gus�f eyes, and he felt rage bursting through his veins.

   �gYou don�ft know what you�fre talking about, Gus,�h he said.  �gYou know, I�fve met guys like you before.  I only wish that you could spend one day of your life being short.  Then you�fd know.  Then you�fd get to see people point at you, and you�fd get to hear women giggle at you, and you�fd get to have some asshole twenty years younger than you put his hand on your head and think that it was really funny.  I only wish you had that chance.  Then you�fd know.�h

   �gYeah, yeah, yeah, keep up your whining.  You�fre making me cry.  Let me tell you something.   Let me tell you what I�fd like you to have to experience.  How about this?  You go into a restaurant and suddenly you see five people turn and glare at you.  And then you see all those people poke the people who are sitting next to them in the ribs and  whisper, �elook at that face�f  or �ewhat a freak.�f  And then you sit down and order, and the waitress doesn�ft write down a thing you�fre saying because she can�ft stop staring at your scar and your bulbous nose.  That�fs what I�fd like you to have to experience, you little whiner.�h

   �gYou have a great imagination, Gus.  I�fll give you that.  You really are a piece of work.�h

   �gWhat do you mean imagination, you little punk.  Do you think I�fm making this up?�h

   �gYou bet I do.  And if you call me a little punk again, I�fll level you.  I don�ft care how big you are, you ugly son of a bitch.�h

   Gus grinned.  Then, he moved his face toward Johnny�fs and spat out the same word over and over again.  �gPunk, punk, punk, punk, punk, punk, punk.�h

   Johnny reached back and launched a right in the direction of Gus�fs nose.  However, Gus, instinctively remembering his youthful days as a boxer, so many years ago, moved his head backward and easily evaded the punch.  Then, he instantly shot a left hook back at Johnny with his massive fist and felt a sharp pain as it struck its target and literally lifted Johnny off of his feet.

  Gus watched Johnny fly through the air, and he winced as his body landed with a loud thud.  Then, he bent down to inspect the damage.  He placed his ear on Johnny�fs chest, but heard nothing.  Then, he reached over and took Johnny�fs limp wrist and checked for a pulse, but felt nothing.  �gJohnny!�h he called out.  �gJohnny!�h  But he knew that Johnny couldn�ft hear him and would never hear anyone again.  He stood up and looked down at the motionless body.  Then, after backing up a foot or two, he felt a numbness in his arm.  He thought about what might be causing the numbness, but all of a sudden those thoughts disappeared and an excruciating pain pierced his chest.  He fell to his knees and gasped for breath.  Then, he felt his eyes close.  However, he still saw.  But what he saw were visions�cvisions of the past.  He saw himself as a boy, wearing a baseball cap.  And he saw his mother, so young and innocent looking.  And then he saw his father, and some old friends that he hadn�ft seen in years.  And finally, at the end of a long series of images, there was Johnny.  �gI�fll level you,�h Johnny was yelling.  �gI�fll level you.�h

   Feeling completely helpless, Gus struggled to open his eyes.  I don�ft want it to end like this, he thought.  And he remembered the man who was running.  His thoughts weren�ft entirely clear, yet he did remember that the man had been there and he wondered if that man might turn out to be his salvation.  Maybe he can get me to a hospital, he thought.

   Gus looked in front of him and when he didn�ft see the man, he turned around and looked back.  He was there.  Gus felt a glimmer of hope, and still on his knees yelled out.  �gHelp!�h  �gHelp!�h  That�fs all that he could manage to say, and even that took its toll, as the pain in his chest, which had already been unbearable, became even worse.

   The man looked in Gus�fs direction, and as he continued to run, Gus looked toward him with sad but hopeful eyes.  The man continued to move quickly and effortlessly, and as he approached the point where Gus was kneeling, he looked down at Johnny�fs body.  Then, he looked back at Gus, and as Gus saw the man�fs face, he could tell that he was grinning.  Why is he grinning, he thought.  What in the world is so funny?  And that was the last thing that Gus ever thought.  He fell flat on his face and his eyes closed for good.  And the runner, pumping his legs as effortlessly as ever, passed him by and never looked back.