That Rifle in The Window

The sun rose on Rural Street. Birds sang, bees buzzed, flowers bloomed and Jamal set out to do something stupid. It was actually his favorite past time. He would just set out into a bright day and do something irrational and inane. He had decided to break into a house, an abandoned house and loot it. On similar exploits he had found half CDs, pennies, and most of a steak knife, but this time would be different. This time he would find five bucks, at least.

At 842 there sat two stories devoid of human life and rife for exploring. Amazingly, the door was open and the plywood used to close it was haphazardly laying on the ground, nails up. Seeing that the days whole point was to be stupid, Jamal found nothing wrong with entering the house. Jamal searched the bathroom and the pantry to no avail, save a cupcake in the former. It tasted terrible. He scanned the kitchen, the living room and the bedrooms in no particular order. He found dead batteries paper clips and enough change to buy a bag of chips. All in all, he thought it was a good haul as he went up to the attic.

The attic was amazingly roomy and the floor boards barely creaked. The only thing of interest was a child’s fort made up of a blanket and three wicker back chairs. Jamal smiled remembering the hours he spent under his own fort dismantling his sister’s dolls. Underneath the blanket was a man. The man was adjusting the sights on a SKS rifle. A subtle alarm triggered inside Jamal; subtle in the sense that he didn’t scream and wave his arms in panicked cartoon like fashion. Slowly, he backed away from the marksman in the child’s fort.

“Mister if you think I don’t notice you, you’re wrong. I can get up and stab you until you’re dead. That would be a huge pain the ass and I’m sure your a nice man. Please sit in the corner. I’m almost done and I need to get this mark in one shot.” Jamal backed into a chair close to the stairs.

“Who you going to shoot?”

“Not who, what. A bear.”

“Zoo is towards downtown man.”

“I use to be like you, then I learned we are not alone. The bears are coming, evolving. They’re trying to take over.”

Jamal weighed his options. Neither the threat of a knife nor the promise of police seemed attractive. He decided on the .380 in his back pocket due to priors and Jamal’s general love of the hands on approach. Five short inconsequential pops were heard and ignored by the moving city. Jamal wiped the gun and dropped it neatly next to the man in the blind. When someone eventually does find the man, they are left with a murder weapon that Jamal never owned outright and without finger prints. In fact, it would only come back to a white devil of a gun seller who lost a shipment some five years ago.

Jamal made his way down and found Bill making his morning rounds. His size 15 fedora and 50 inch trench coat was a dead give away. His black fur made him seem Greek somehow but nothing wrong with that. Bill was a good guy. Whitest damn black bear that Jamal ever knew, but a good guy.

“Hey Bill, there was a guy looking for you.”

“Oh God, not again. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry I took care of it.”

“Jesus wept, you didn’t”

“Look it was my bear or some ignorant motherfucker. I don’t like ignorant motherfuckers but I love my bear.”

“Thank you Jamal, you are a true friend.”

Bill continued to the gas station. He was happy to live and work in the free world.