The Kebabistani

Minute one.
People always notice him now. His dark skin, his brown eyes and shiny black hair. It was not always so. Things changed after 9-11. It got alot easier to oppress the minorities, it was even cool. The government did it. The police did it. Even the bus drivers did it. You were being a good american, a patriot. A saint even if you glanced sideways at a muslim man in his mid twenties to late thirties. Just checking for any tendencies, any terrorist behavior. Even mexicans were not safe from this 'safeguard' against terrorism. Some mexicans in his neighborhood had even taken up speaking spanish at all times in public so that they were not mistaken for some 'sand nigger', some 'kebabistani' terrorist. First impressions almost always being tainted with prejudice.
The ancient persian skin of his people had become a curse. They were being oppressed, ridiculed, distrusted, hated even hunted. But what hunted him now did not do so for the color of his skin. It did so for his beliefs... and his flesh.

Traversing down the subway stairs in leaps, he knows his death is imminent. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he ignores the pain in his broken ankle. Heart beating a mile a minute. People scatter out of his way or are tossed aside. Hatefilled voices shout at him as he runs. He can almost hear the small bones of his foot rubbing bone against bone with each step. An annoying thought, kindof like- cotton being rubbed up against your two front teeth.. It did´nt matter really, they had also gone missing when it had all gone very, very bad.

Minute two..
The subway station stop is filled with people of all ethnicities but he knows he is alone. The train is leaving, no time. He runs and with three strides he has made it inside, just as the doors close. People look at him, frightened and wary. He takes in his own appearance. Blood and sweat. His jeans are torn and displaying angry crimson gashes. Missing a shoe on a broken and badly abused limb. He remembers it flying off as rending claws caught his foot, snapping the delicate tendons and small bones like they were a birds. He briefly mused he must look like a crazy person. A moment to relax, he grasps the little black box in his hand, the good hand, and breathes out a ragged sigh of relief. Thank allah it is still there.
His eyes dart about the cabin, scanning the transients.

Minute three...
The people were all shapes and sizes. And colors, did i mention colors? You had your gangbangers in gangcolors, your heavily made-up buxomed cholo chick, your elderly grey, your business man in brown trenchcoat and...shit! transit police heading this way! Fuck! He closes up his jacket tightly around the box, puts it in a inner pocket and grabs his gun. Don´t wanna do this but what choice do i really have?.. A sinaptic spark flashes across his frontal lobe and he remembers- The gun is gone. The shock of it too much, he violently resists the urge to regurgitate and catches the bile half way out. Well, bile and a single lonely tooth.

Minute four....
The cop approaches carefully but deliberately. He has already got the lock off his leather holster, protecting the gun.. Police cap lowered he comes. Death on minimum wage. The billy club tapping at his side, black paint worn out at the end. Promising a joyful and an entirely too enthusiastic beating to come, should i fail to word my explanation very, very carefully. 'Police brutality' and 'Terrorist gunned down in subway' flashes across my minds eye.. At least the beating would be familiar. Reminds me of home- Scorching heat, a warm lamb freshly slaughtered and awaiting the fire. My mother beating me with a stick from the tree.. Huh, mother always had a sense of humour about it.. 'pick your branch, boy. But pick it good, for it will be the one tanning your hide tonight!' she´d say- When it was time to administer the punishment for stealing an apple or a... falafel. I´d always pick the largest one i could find, the thin ones always stung the most. But she could always swing to educate nontheless.

Minute five.....
Looking up at the mr. policeman with what i hope to be an expression of innocence and pain. You know, the one most victims make..Have mercy kind sir. My mother would beat me blue for a beggar- shit! He does not seem to be buying it..

'Sir, are you alright?', he asks reproachfully.

'Uh yes... No not really. ' i reply stammering.
'Some guys just jumped me but i managed to get away'..

'Hmm. (long thoughtful pause) Can i see some identification, sir?'

Shit, now im really royally fucked... I dont have my id, cant really say it got stolen, then he´ll just take me downtown. How can i explain my injuries... or the box for that matter... I start looking for an immediate escape route. Push him aside, pull the emergency stop cord and run. No he would get me before i would even stand up. Grapple him and pull his gun?. Shoot him in the face and pullthecordandrun?
He´s getting impatient... A foot being tapped, a gun lovingly caressed..

Minute six......
The train tilts a little and and the lights flare out.. A few seconds in the dark.. The lights flicker back on and suddenly we are not alone..
The nighmarish creature stands towering behind the cop. Massive, all muscle and sinew, teeth and claws that could rend steel. Fur covers its body. Black, black like a politicians soul. Black like the dark side of the moon. Face definitely canine and sporting a ferally crazed look in its human eyes that would make the devil cringe. It does not look too happy to see me, its side still bleeding from the projectile.
The air smells of rotten meat and wet dog. Blood, urine and feces covered its frame, products of victims past. The hairs on its back stands on edge, its about to maim and slaughter. It raises its massive paw, about to crush cop and hunter alike. Realizing this moment could be my last, i cover my head and slink to the floor. And then something weird happens, like the situation could not get more interesting... some ancient forgotten remnant of... something, in the cop awakens and the cop immediately reacts by leaping to the side. The claw crashes through the train floor exposing the rails underneath. People start screaming, the monster roars, and i almost shit myself -god im tired-. The cop pulls his special and starts firing the revolver at the beast.. Bullets tear through flesh but its just getting madder.

Minute seven.......
I lead an interesting life dont i? I rush past the monster as it flails at me, duck a claw there and i am out of reach. I look back as the cop turns a billy club into the olympian torch and starts whailing on the thing. It looks kindof surprised, if one could really recognize emotion on its facial features, okay im just guessing at this point. Anyway I turn to the cabin separetion door and start opening it... Shit! its stuck, i turn around again and see cop and beast slugging it out for the titleshot, claw and saber, whirling limbs and all. Man, the cop is really holding his own, all battered and torn but still there giving it his all. The look on the cops face ill never forget. It was the face of a man on jyhad, or even... crystalmeth. Maybe it was a holy battle being waged, sortof. I look back to the door and i could have sworn i saw a face flash by in the other cabin. The guy in the trenchcoat i think it was. its really all a bit blurry now. The door opens and i pass through, this other cabin is empty, so i pull the cord and the train starts screeching on the rails and the momentum is shot forward. Thats were i fractured my tailbone. I moan and struggle but i still get up and go to the doors. Shit! what time is it anyway?. I open the doors with the breakable glass handle and jump outside. I hear the transients screaming inside the train, shots being fired. Man, people can be so stupid sometimes...

Minute eight........
I run. I run till my muscles burn and then i run and run some more. Its coming, i can feel it. I can smell it. Its coming and this time there will be no escape. It will finish the job... Send me straight to heaven with fire and brimstone... Up to see Allah. I look back and sure enough, there it is. Charging towards me frothing at the mouth. Razor sharp claws anticipating warm blood, teeth hungry for some dark meat. I stop and turn, it leaps and i scream. What a shitty way to go... eaten by a mutant man-wolf. Digested and eventually- passed... fertilizer.

Minute nine.........
I grab at the box fiercely... the feel of the button being pressed by a panicked thumb exultant. A beep, a boom and a massive shower of blood, gore, teeth, claws, furclumps and partially digested people later, i pick myself up from the ground. Fucker had no idea that the projectile was a bomb... I tiredly get up to go home... maybe ill just take a cab this time...

I´d hate to say it but sometimes first impressions are right...

... Minute ten..........
Standing over the smoldering carcass, the man with the hollow eyes waits and watches him leave... hmm things are finally coming into place...then he collects his playthings soul and leaves...