Featherless Bipeds Read Online Free PDF

out of the McDonald’s and empty the contents of my stomach behind a shrub.
    The entire walk to Jafo’s is eerily quiet. The streets are deserted. I guess all the chaos has moved to the waterfront.
    I pray to God, I actually pray, that Zoe will be safe.
    Then my head jerks back violently, my feet are kicked out from under me, and I feel my arms being twisted behind my back for the second time tonight. It is the same guys who had cornered Bernice in the alley. The pair that ran away first take hold of one of my arms back as the skinny one circles around in front of me.
    â€œSo, did she have a red pussy, buddy?” the one holding my right arm says, “We were just about to find out when you came runnin’ up!”
    â€œWasn’t nice to steal Hank’s girlfriend like that,” the one on my left giggles.
    â€œNice giggle, tough guy,” I say.
    The giggler belts me across the back of the head with something large and solid. When I am able to re-focus my eyes, the little weasel I should have erased earlier reaches into the pocket of his black jacket and snaps open a switchblade.
    â€œGuess you must be a fuckin’ kike if that bitch liked ya,” he says. “You know what we do to kikes ?”
    My mind is racing as fast as my heart. I’m pretty sure I’m stronger than any one of them individually, but the three of them together could make a mess out of me in a fight, especially since they’ve all got weapons. In my running shoes and loose pants, though, I could easily outrun them in their tight black jeans and clunky boots.
    â€œHow about we settle this one-on-one, like real men, Hank ,” I say, hoping an appeal to his misdirected testosterone might result in me getting free from his two pals.
    â€œNope,” he says, “we of the pure race have got to stick together.”
    â€œThat’s right, brother!” says the stooge on my left, slamming me on the back of the head again.
    My vision blurs and my chin drops to my chest, only to snap back up again a second later.
    â€œDo it, Hank!” the guy on my right cries, “ Do this mother-fucker!”
    The scrawny boy dances around uneasily for a moment, waving the blade in front of me.
    â€œ Do him! ” both my captors holler.
    â€œ White Power! ” the skinny one shrieks as he sticks the knife in my belly.
    Then my head bounces off the concrete, and everything disappears.
    I guess I’m in Heaven now, or on my way there. Maybe they’re prepping me for the afterlife. It’s like watching a film about how nice the rest of my life would have been if I hadn’t got myself killed. Something isn’t working quite right, though, because I can’t see anything. I can only hear the soundtrack, and it’s muffled, like I’m listening through a pillow.
    I can hear Zoe’s voice, but I’m not sure what she’s saying. Tristan and Veronica are here, and I think I can hear my parents’ voices, too.
    I’m starting to receive the picture, now, but it’s only a blurry whiteness. Maybe this is a scene of what our wedding would have been like. Weddings are white. Me marrying Zoe. I would have liked that.
    But now I think I can hear Lola’s voice, too. What is she doing at our wedding? When I tell the story about the ordeal of confessing to Zoe’s dad about backing his Lincoln into Sammy’s Souvlaki Hut, will Lola throw wedding rice in my eyes, kick me in the groin, and throw me out of my own wedding reception?
    â€œVital signs have stabilized,” I hear a voice say.
    Mom?
    â€œThe cops got ’em,” says another. “He can I.D. ’em when he comes to.”
    Dad?
    Strange things to say on my wedding day!
    The visual portion of the show is getting clearer now, the edges of the room coming into focus. White walls. Acoustic tile ceiling. The dark shadows circling around me are smoothing out into definite shapes: sky-blue curtains, people