Last night I was on a scouting expedition to the local biracial bar to check up on the current crimescape. Five patrons from this bar have been attacked by packs of hood-rats and car loads of adult ‘bankers’ from July through early October.
At the bar I ran into Mary, a deli-clerk, who was being tutored on the fine art of urban survival by Hacker John. Thinking that my readers may be growing tired of my survival advice that always includes a large dose of long term legal sustainability advice at the expense of immediate lethal advice, I thought Hacker John might be well-received by a large segment of the Harm City readership. If you are a member of the ‘better to be judged by 12 than carried by six’ school of self-defense, you might want to nominate Hacker John as your spokesman.
Hacker John is an illegal cabbie, which places him on the fringes of the legal world. He will not be arrested for his activity unless he is operating at a ‘cab stand’ reserved for legit cabbies, or on a private lot whose owners do not sanction his activity, or if he charges fares. A ‘hack’ or ‘gypsy cabbie’ must take what is offered by the person they are giving a lift to. Their informal rules of operation follow the guidelines for the operation of ‘sedans’ [cabs without décor which are only supposed to pick up scheduled fares]. Their lot in life is often made more pleasant and lucrative when urban retail establishments agree to ‘sanction’ their activity through designating them ‘courtesy drivers’ and issuing a certificate.
Hacker John is an informal courtesy driver operating out of Fort Hoodrat under sanction of the minor league offensive lineman who provides security on the store front. He is a wiry, coal-faced man in his sixties who has exceeded the Harm City male life expectancy by two decades, and claims it is due to his ‘no bullshit’ worldview.
Without further ado…
“Now, if you alone and around this neighborhood, with all of these welfare mammas birthin’ these hood-rats en lettin’ them run wild, then you got to take precautions. Considerin’ you female on foot it is the same as if you a male on your ass, sittin’ in your sedan let’s say.”
“They come young, they come strong, swarmin’ in packs. You’ve got to have that comeback capacity! It’s a war out there: do or die, kill or be killed, eat or be ate.”
“What you need is some good strong-sprayin’ mace in the left hand and a ice-pick in the right! It is what’s called for. You mace the face en stab! Mace, stab! Mace, stab! Mace, stab!”
“Oh so you think that extreme? Sheeeee, it a war out dare—Mace, stab! Mace, stab!”
I stand corrected. Oh, let us not pass over this stellar self-defense tutorial without a related word of caution. If you are grabbing a gypsy cab from Fort Hoodrat, or any other luxury retail outlet in Harm City, do not decline payment. I warned you.
