he couldn’t fuck or get mad like he used to

by underswansea

The light was red. It had been the first street light in town. Bishop hated them all. He had right from the beginning. He didn’t like any colour telling him what he should do. Fucking streets lights, he thought. What happened to the way it was? When you made eye contact with the guy across from you, gave them a wave as you crossed path. Where you knew the guy and his family. You knew where they hunted. Where they worked.

Now it was tourists that flooded the town. They didn’t know where they were going. They needed to be pointed in the right direction. They got lost and sometimes found themselves in the bush where Bishop didn’t like to see them. That was the reason for streetlights, to funnel them into town. Keep them there, he thought, buying shit for twice the price they would pay in the city.

The light turned green but Bishop didn’t move. The horns started. To his right was where he went to school. It was a grocery store now. The parking lot was full. He had his ass kicked there. He broke Rauch’s arm in the playground playing ball.

Bishop wondered if he was flush. If he had won more than he lost.

The horns were going picking up steam. He looked in the rear view. The truck right on his ass didn’t have a front plate. The guy looked pissed. Bishop got out of the truck. Traffic was rolling through the lane opposite.

The guy was getting out. Bishop kicked the door. It slammed his leg. Bishop felt his leg tear. He was old. He couldn’t fuck or get mad like he used to.

He hobbled back to his truck. The light turned yellow when he put it in gear. He sped through. He left them in his dust, knowing it would never work out that way again.