Pepper Spray Fun Times!
Smiley, a local crackhead, saw one of the cans of pepper spray inside the store and decided to challenge it face-to-face for $5. We had to make damn sure he knew what he was in for (as five bucks to him is a bit of rock) and that we could all stay friends afterwards, but I almost felt bad for him. Almost. If it weren’t such a good example of South Dallas nightlife.
Here’s the thing: living here, just south of downtown proper and a within stone’s throw east of Fair Park, acting up and drawing attention, especially from law enforcement and related authorities, is generally frowned upon. “Laying low” is why many people live here, and this drew a crowd within less than thirty seconds and completely blew what cover we had. 24 laughing, curious, and rather loud black guys signaled the arrive of the (inevitable) BWEEEW-BWEEEW of cop sirens. Fuck.
As the car slid to a stop in the driveway and the officer jumped from his seat, I immediately recognized him: the cool, actually-cool-as-hell guy on the southeast beat who also spends a lot of his spare time/money turning old lots into public parks. Awesome guy, even if he is a “the man” as it were. “What’s goin’ on here?” he asked, making a beeline for me as I stood grinning ear-to-ear behind faded metal bars. “Uh, well, we, I mean Smiley wanted $5 to take a shot of OC in the face, so… we did!”
Smiley, meanwhile, was writhing in absolute agony on the ground, shrieking for water and ice and milk and oh God anything to stop the pain. “Why?” he asked. “Drunken idea, and it’s more than he makes in a day this time of year.” That seemed logical. “And he loves crack, duh. You know.” He sighed. “Yeah, I do. Bad down here, but it takes one dumb mother fucker to want a quick and arbitrary fix, that’s all, badly enough to beg to be sprayed. Damn shame.”
Smiley came back the next day asking $10 for a second round. Thoughts?