Taming the Alien

They have to get you in the end Otherwise there’d be no end to the pointlessness
(Derek Raymond)

‘Yo, fool …

This was Fenton’s introduction. He’d arrived at SFIP (San Francisco International Passport) and breezed through Immigration. Manners and a British accent being a passport all their own. The official had even said, ‘Y’all have a good day now.’

He was having one … sort of … ish.

Until:

Waiting on his luggage a black guy had shouted the above. Fenton turned, saw the guy dressed in an impoverished Mr T style. Lots of gold bracelets, medallions, but of a distinctly tin quality.

Fenton asked, ‘Are you talking to me fella?’

‘Whatcha think? Y’o be a fool, then I talking to you, mother fuckah.’

If this had been the Oval, he’d probably have dropkicked him for exercise. Instead he smiled and got, ‘Wha’cha smiling fo’ bro’? Yo be laughin at de brother?’

Fenton got his case, turned and said, ‘Get me a taxi — sorry — a cab … OK?’

This stopped the guy dead. While he was figuring it, Fenton breezed past him. ‘Jeez, before Tuesday, OK?’

On the other side of the United States, the band-aiders were finding that the BIG APPLE was not exactly the good apple.

Still wearing the Farah pants, the guy said to the woman, ‘This place’s a hole.’

‘Was your idea to come.’

‘Was not.’

‘Was too.’

They seethed a while, then the woman said, ‘Let’s mug some fuck and go to California.’

He liked that, said, ‘I like that. Yeah. Let’s kick the bejaysus outta a Yank.’

‘Yeah … and tell ’em to have a nice day.’