[2] Postal Teen

[2]

*Content Warning: This writing has characters dealing with racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia, as well as child abuse and other imagery that may be upsetting to some readers.

Whitey stood there looking at the window waiting for the pigeons to come back. Every now and again he would check his pocket making sure the sandwich was still there. It was still there. He wondered what the pigeons were up to. Whether or not the bread they were eating was tasty bread. If the guy that was handing it out was a good guy. He thought that both of those things must be true or the pigeons would have come back by now. He didn't mind that they were taking so long. So long as they were having a good time. He knew they would be back when they were done. He wasn't worried about them. He was a little confused about why he was locked in the room he was locked in. He didn't want to be there. But he didn't have anywhere else to go. He knew the nice bus driver that gave him the burrito wouldn't be coming back. He wouldn't be going back to the sanitorium. Something had happened there that was very confusing to Whitey. He knew he wasn't in trouble. Not from what had happened. Yet it didn't make sense that he was locked up. He must have done something wrong. Otherwise he wouldn't be locked in the room. But he couldn't figure out what it was that had happened. Did he say something wrong? He couldn't remember saying anything. He hadn't said a single word to the angry women in the lobby. He didn't say anything to the nice bus driver. He did say that stuff about King Whitey that made the guy next door call him a butthole. But that was after he had been locked in the room. The whole thing was very confusing. He felt like he was at Jonx and Brandy's again. Getting in trouble for not doing anything wrong. He didn't like that feeling. He was nervous that someone would come in and start beating him for no reason. The angry women all seemed like they were capable of such things. They reminded him of Jonx. The way that everything seemed to hurt their feelings. The way that they called him names and were just very angry for no reason. He wanted to get out. Maybe the would let him out. They didn't seem to want him there. Maybe he should just ask them if he could leave? He could figure out a way to get back to Brooklyn and maybe he could find someone he knew? Maybe he could live in his mom's apartment. She wasn't living there anymore. Whitey wondered where she was. If she had a grave he could go look at. Maybe bring her flowers. Whitey missed his mom. Aside from the Head Mistress at the sanitorium, she was the only person that was ever nice to him. And for some reason the Head Mistress being nice to him had led to him being locked in this room. The more Whitey thought about it, the more confused he became. He couldn't process any of the information. None of it made sense. He just stood there looking out the window. Hoping the pigeons would come back. Checking his pocket every now and again. Making sure the sandwich was still there. It was. After a while he took the sandwich out. Carefully unwrapping it. He took a small bite. Carefully wrapping it up again. Putting it back in his pocket. He didn't know how long he would have to hold onto that sandwich. How long it would have to last. He didn't want to make the mistake of eating it too fast.

The pigeons came back like Whitey knew they would. They made some moves that let him know the bread was tasty and the guy that handed the bread out was a nice guy. Whitey told them all about what happened since they were gone. He was not very good at miming but they pigeons understood. They brought more friends with them. Whitey was glad to see them all. He was surprised that they all knew who he was. They said that he was famous. From before. When he still lived in Brooklyn. The word got around. They asked when he was getting out of the room. Whitey mimed that he didn't know. That he wasn't sure what was going on around here. He didn't know why he was locked up and that he was going to ask if they would just let him go. The pigeons thought this was a good idea. They said they knew of a place that he could live with them. Down by the river. There was a warm rock he could sleep next to. And they knew of all of the good places to get bread and sometimes seed. He would have plenty to eat. This idea was very exciting to Whitey. He hoped someone would come back soon so he could ask about getting let out. He was miming this to the pigeons when the third angry woman came back into the room. Whitey didn't notice her coming in. He was too focused on explaining himself to the pigeons. The third angry woman just watched. She eventually said:

"What kind of retard are you? I have seen a lot of retards, but you are the weirdest I have seen." Whitey stopped miming. The pigeons flew away. He turned around. The third angry woman was just standing there. Staring at him. Whitey stared back. "It's not nice to stare." Whitey kept staring. "I am serious, kid. You keep staring at me like that and you will regret it." Whitey looked down. He expected to regret it anyway. The third angry woman didn't hit him though. She said:

"Are you Esmerelda Tourno Whitlock?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I am."

"Yes, I am, what?"

"Yes, I am Esmerelda Tourno Whitlock."

"My god, why do I always get the retarded ones. You call me ma'am."

"Hello, ma'am."

"My god, kid! Are you really that dense?"

"Hello, ma'am, I am Esmerelda Tourno Whitlock."

"Look, you little shit for brains, when I address you, you call me ma'am, is that so hard to understand?"

"Yes, ma'am, I mean, no, ma'am, I mean, ma'am, it is not hard to understand, ma'am."

"Oh my god. Every fucking time the retards. I am really getting sick of this shit. What's that smell? You better not have shit your pants."

"I didn't shit my pants, ma'am."

"Then what is that smell?"

"I don't know what smell you are talking about, ma'am."

"Don't tell me that is just how you smell. Drop them. I want to see."

"Drop what, ma'am?" Whitey didn't understand what that meant. To drop them. He wasn't holding anything. He opened his hands to show the third angry woman this.

"Your pants!" The third angry woman was now very angry. Whitey still didn't know what she meant. He was understanding her words literally. He didn't know how to drop his pants. He took started to take his shoes off so he could take his pants off and drop them on the ground. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Taking my shoes off so I can drop my pants ma'am."

"Just drop your fucking pants!"

"I don't know what you mean." In Whitey's frustration he forgot to call the third angry woman ma'am. She did not like this.

"You better fucking smarten up quick you little retard or there is going to be hell to pay." This did nothing to clear up Whitey's confusion. He just stood there. Trying not to stare. Trying to figure out what the third angry woman meant. He opened and closed his hands a few times. Hoping this would help. The next thing that Whitey knew he lying on the bed. The third angry woman was trying to undo his pants. Whitey suddenly got scared that she was coming for his sandwich. He turned on his side. To make it harder for the third angry woman to get into his pocket. This pissed her off. She stood up and slapped him on the side of his head. His ear rang. He put his hand down over his sandwich pocket and just let her do whatever it was she wanted to do. She got his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. Pulled them down. He wasn't wearing any underwear. The third angry woman was close to his genitals. This made an accidental thing happen. Whitey became erect. The third angry woman shrieked. She jumped back. She said:

"Oh, hell no you didn't!" She came back to Whitey and slapped him again. This time very hard. His ear not only ringed, but he could feel liquid coming out of it now. He held up his hand to protect his ear. The third angry woman just stood there, her hand in position to hit him again. She backed away. Whitey's erection had gone down. He didn't know what to do. He just laid there on the cot. His pants around his thighs. His naked genitals exposed. The third angry woman stared at them. Then she looked around for signs of shit. There were no signs of shit. The third angry woman looked Whitey in the eyes. She was very upset. Whitey didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if he should be looking at her. He looked away. She said:

"Look me in the eyes, you fucking retard." Whitey looked her in the eyes. "You pull that shit again and I will call the cops, you understand me?" Whitey understood but he didn't understand what he had done wrong. "Do you understand me?"

"I understand some of the things you are saying." This was the wrong thing to say. Plus he hadn't called the third angry woman ma'am. She got so upset that she balled her fists. Whitey didn't know what to do. He was afraid she might start punching him. He didn't know if he should try and protect himself or just let it happen. He just laid there. One hand on his ear the other hand on his sandwich pocket. He pants at his thighs. His genitals exposed. The third angry woman didn't move. She just stood there. Thinking. Whitey had no idea what she was thinking. She was not moving though. Her hands were still in fists. She said:

"Stand up." Whitey stood up. His pants started to fall. He was holding onto the sandwich pocket. He wasn't holding his ear anymore. He took a quick look. There was blood. "Let-em drop." Whitey finally understood what "Drop your pants" meant. He let his pants drop. The third angry woman looked at his pants. Down around his ankles. She looked at his naked genitals in a very weird way. She mumbled to herself "Why do the retards always have the good ones?" Whitey didn't know how to respond. He didn't know it wasn't a question. He said:

"I don't know, ma'am." This just pissed the third angry woman off.

"I wasn't fucking asking you, you retard. Pull your stanky pants back up before I give you another reason to be sorry." Whitey was glad to pull his pants back up. He buttoned them and zipped them. He made sure the sandwich was still in his pocket. It was. He stood there. Waiting to be told what to do next. The third angry woman just stared at him. Whitey tried to not look her in the eyes. She was moving her hands now. Like she was dropping something herself. Which just added to Whitey's confusion about dropping things. He didn't know if this was supposed to mean something that he didn't understand. The third angry woman walked over to him. Grabbed his head. Turned it to the side. There wasn't very much blood. She said:

"Wipe your ear down." Whitey wiped his ear down. The third angry woman took another look. "Okay, now that we understand each other you better mind your p's and q's." This was so confusing to Whitey that he almost lost his entire focus. He had no idea what a "P and Q" was. He had an even worse time trying to understand what more than one "P and Q" would be. The picture of steamed peas came to mind. This made him hungry. But there was no word in his vocabulary that was a "Q." The closest thing he could think of was the word "Cute." And then he had trouble thinking of anything cute. But then he thought about his birthday party with the pigeons all that time ago. When he put little party hats on them. This made him smile. Whitey smiling made the third angry woman terrifyingly pissed off. "What the fuck are you laughing at you cocky little fuckwad!" She was about to hit him when someone else came into the room. It was the second angry woman. The one that had led Whitey to the room last night.

"Oh, I see our free ride is up and about. How are our tax dollars treating him?"

"This retard just tried to rape me."

"What! Are you serious?"

"I don't know, I asked to see his pants because I thought he shit himself and then he tried to stab me with his dick, the retard's a pervert, that is for certain."

"That fucking...Did you let him know who he is dealing with?"

"Twice."

"Well, I would think so. Good for you. It's the Black ones you have to keep an eye out for. They get confused, you know. They think that they can just take whatever. Especially the young ones. They don't got any men around to teach them the lessons about how to treat women. It is because of drugs, you know? I hope you are okay."

"I'm fine. Just a little messed up is all." The third angry woman was really putting on a show. "I think I will be alright."

"Should we report it?"

"Nah, I think he understands what he did."

"Well, if you say so."

"I'm fine."

"Well, you are doing the lord's work here. We really should get combat pay dealing with these animals."

"You're telling me."

"Hey, free ride! I hope it was worth it. I hope you don't mind not getting no dinner." Whitey didn't know if he was supposed to respond to this. "Hey, free ride! Did you hear me?"

"I heard you, ma'am." Whitey didn't look the second angry woman in the eyes.

"Good! Let that sink in. Pull some shit like that again and you won't be eating no breakfast anytime soon either." Whitey didn't know if he was supposed to respond to this. "Did you hear me, tax thief?" Whitey was still trying to understand what "P's and Q's" meant. And now he was getting called all sorts of different names he didn't understand. He did understand that the third angry woman was lying though. He also understood there was nothing he could do about it. He said:

"I understand, ma'am. Can I leave now?"

"Are you joking? Is he joking? Can you tell? He must be joking. Right? You're joking, right?" Whitey was not joking. He wanted to leave.

"I am not joking, ma'am. I would like to leave now."

"Bru-hahahaha! The retard thinks he can just come and go like this is some welfare office! What a fucking moron! Kid! You aint going nowhere. Open your tiny little ears, you waste of tax payers money, you belong to the State now. You'll be lucky if you see daylight before you turn eighteen!"

"These fucking retards, right?" The third angry woman decided to join in. "How do they not know how fucked they are?"

"They don't got any dads. That is the problem. They just think they can go around without jobs, just sucking off Uncle Sam's tit. Playing basketball all day, collecting government checks. Smoking pot. Crack too, that is the real problem. All the drugs. It really makes me sick just to think about it."

The angry women left the room. Talking about how much of a waste of money Whitey was. Whitey just stood there confused. The whole interaction was confusing. He had done nothing wrong. Yet he was hit twice. Called a "Free Ride" a "Tax Thief" was told to mind his "P's and Q's" told to "Drop his pants," which kind of made sense in the end. When he thought about the context. It didn't really. But it made more sense than the other stuff. He didn't know about tax. Or what a free ride was. His mom did like to do drugs. That was true. But what that had to do with him, he didn't know. He didn't know his dad either. Which, maybe the angry women were right? But why that meant he had to stay inside of this locked room. Without dinner. Like it was all his fault. He really couldn't wrap his mind around it. He was glad that he had saved his sandwich. He felt his pocket. Making sure it was still there. It was. His ear hurt. He missed his mom. He looked up at the window. The pigeons were not there. He felt very lonely. He tried to think about things. To make sense of things. Nothing made sense. He would just have to make sure and call the angry women "Ma'am" whenever he saw them. That was all he really took away from what just happened. He guessed he just lived here now. In this locked room. Until he was eighteen. He tried to do the math about that. Five years is a lot of days. Whitey wished he was eighteen now. That way they would let him go. And then he could go live down by the river with the pigeons. Next to the warm rock. He would probably need to find stuff to eat. He couldn't just live off of bread and seeds like they did, but he would figure it out. At least he wouldn't get smacked in the ear for something that wasn't his fault. Get accused of something he didn't do. He was even more confused about that than anything. The Head Mistress from the sanitarium loved it when his things got hard. Why was the third angry woman so upset about it? There was just too much to think about. Whitey didn't know what to do. He just stood there. Hoping the pigeons would come back.