“Yo”, he heard them yell as they passed, not sure if it was directed at him. “Yo, man”, they shouted once more. This time he knew they were addressing him, but he continued his drunken phone conversation pretending not to hear them. As he heard them approaching he tried not to think about the kind of people that you typically meet at four AM on a Saturday night. He tried to reassure himself that maybe they just needed directions as he turned to see what he would have to deal with. “Yo, kid, lemme use your phone, we just got robbed.” the short scrappy one explained. The thick Brooklyn tinged Ebonics matched his over sized clothes, but not his pale white skin. “Yea, son, some black kids just took all our money.” his taller partner added, his face hidden by the shadow of his over sized baseball cap. “That sucks man. Alright, but lemme dial the number, what number you want?” he replied, wanting to believe their story yet still apprehensive. He began dialing the number when the scrappy one wrapped a rigid arm around his neck, pulling him close and grabbing the phone with his other hand. Not sure if the gesture was friendly or aggressive his hands began to shake nervously feeling the weight of the situation. Still locked in the scrappy ones clutches he could feel the taller one patting his pockets. “What the fuck man, just give me my phone back, I gotta go”, he impotently shouted, the alcohol in his blood slurring the words. “Yo, son, Ima ’bout to knock you out”, the tall one threatened. He thought about swinging first, but he knew his inebriated body wouldn’t afford him the energy or the precision for such a defense. He thought about being honest with them, showing them that he didn’t have any cash or credit cards, that he was probably more broke then they. Realizing that a cell phone and an ipod would probably be prize enough for these two he thrashed about, simultaneously grabbing his phone back and breaking himself free. “Where you gonna go”, he heard them yell as he turned and ran. He ran for nearly two blocks, his tired body somehow managing to keep a few feet of distance between him and his assailants.

Exhausted, his legs forced him to stop, hands resting on his knees laboriously sucking air into his chest. He turned slightly to see if they had followed, and watched them slow down as they drew closer. He wondered if he was too drunk and had possibly overreacted as he crossed the street just to be safe when he noticed a car pull up beside him. The window rolled down and a beam of light flashed out at him. “Hey, are those kids bothering you”, a voice from the car asked. “Fuck, man. Yeah, they are.” he replied relieved to see the blue and white cop car.

As he limped to his girlfriends house he thought about all the people on the streets that really needed help. He thought about all the beggars, the pan handlers, the hopeless dispossessed that simply desired a comforting word and some company. How it was assholes like these two that made us indifferent to the people on the streets that really needed help.

New FatCat band, kinda shoe gazy/noisey. Don’t know much else about these guys ‘cept that they are from Glassgow. These tracks are from their latest EP release on FatCat, Here, It Never Snowed. Afterwards It Did.

Mapped By What Surrounded Them
Some Things Last A Long Time
Walking For Two Hours

buy it here: Insound.com

-mark

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