Red Hat Assault

It’s one of those rare days where you don’t think anything’s gonna happen, and then it does. I had an old red hat on and was walking along when this guy rushes from out of nowhere, full of piss and vinegar, slapping the damned thing off my head.

“Racist!” he yells, or maybe it was “fascist.” Hell, if I know. I know I heard “Trump.” Either way, it’s not something I have the patience for.

The hat goes tumbling into the street, rolling with the wind and sand like it has someplace to be. I start to go after the damned thing, but it gets run over.

And here, this bastard, the one who smacked it off me, screaming like a banshee, waving his fists, calling me names for wearing a hat. I tell the son-of-a-bitch to back off and take his tantrum elsewhere, but he comes at me again, all fists and flailing kicks.

So, I push him away hard enough to buy a second, losing my balance and nearly falling, where my hand finds a rock from some sad little garden display outside this storefront. I pick it up and strike him. Once, twice. He finally stumbles back.

But the Asshole’s not done. The prick starts to rise like some damn fool animal still looking for a fight. I see it coming, so I kick him–hard in his effing face. And that does it. He goes limp, just sprawled out on the sidewalk.

Some lady comes out of the business wide-eyed. “Are you okay?” she asks, and I say I’m fine. She glances at the guy lying there, then at me. “I’m sorry about your hat.”

I look back, my red hat still out in the street, flat and done for. It ain’t worth saving. The cops show up, the usual questions, the rigamarole. They take a report, and an officer grabs the red hat reading Marine Corps from the gutter, bagging it in plastic like its evidence.

In the end, maybe the DA’ll throw something at him, then again, perhaps not, ’cause, as one of the officers stated, “He might be high hallucinating.” The other adds, “Maybe he thought it was MAGA hat,” like it’s an excuse for violent behavior.

I shake my head in disgust, knowing some days you can fucking stand there, minding your business, and the world will still come for you, and help ain’t coming.