Fate It was eleven o'clock in the evening at her place when the drunks at the Italian- American club down the street began to sing very loudly on the corner. It wasn't the best neighborhood, you really shouldn't have too many expectations with the poor, and she said--shit, I'm calling the police to report them for disturbing the peace. I sat at her kitchen table with a 16 oz. can of beer. Don't bother, I said, let the drunks have their fun. They'll knock it off after a while. Besides, somebody else will call the cops. Let them do the dirty work. No, she said, as she cinched up the sash of her frayed robe, I'm calling them right this minute. She went over to the phone and called. It took the cops over an hour to get there. Noise probably wasn't a high priority on their list, not in that neighbor- hood. I went to the window, saw them out there under the darkness. All the drunken Italian- Americans had gone home for the night. Let them sleep it off, I thought, and then I followed them to bed. In the morning when I went out to my car, there was a ticket shoved under the wiper. Sun- shine came down, intoxicated with the new day.Kurt Nimmo |