NONFICTION: THE IRONIC NEIGHBORHOOD PROTECTOR WITH AN ANKLE MONITOR

By Edgar Rider

                       Photo Credit: Geraldine Arata

THE IRONIC NEIGHBORHOOD PROTECTOR WITH AN ANKLE MONITOR

Carrie Kipling was mine and Braiden Muller’s roommate and she had been in  the hospital for a week after suffering a heart attack. We started taking over the house in our own way by putting up pop culture posters. One poster showed Charles Bukowski saying, "Do What you Like Until It Kills You."

We also put up a picture of Tony Clifton, an obnoxious lounge singer with two scantily clad women. We also hung up a picture of Macho Man Randy Savage Vs Ricky The Dragon Steamboat in Wrestlemania 3. The last picture was of Les Brown, a motivational speaker.

One day Carrie Kipling finally came home and looked at all the pictures; she was especially infuriated by The Charles Bukowski quote and ripped it off the refrigerator. She then looked at the pictures shaking her head and then ignored the other pictures. She asked, “Who is that guy in the neighborhood with the big dog? He has some kind of weapon with him.” We looked at her perplexed, not sure who she was referring to. 

I finally met the neighbor a few days later. His name was Tomahawk or so he said. He patrolled the neighborhood at least as far as he could because he had limited area to go in with his ankle monitor. It alerted the police if he went too far into the neighborhood. 

Anyone questionable in the alleyway, he would chase with a tomahawk sometimes throwing it at them. Sometimes he had to ask someone who he trusted to fetch his tomahawk and bring it back.

Not sure what he was convicted of or why he had it. He kept talking painstakingly of being cooped up in his apartment and having to use his mobile unit parked alongside it.

A conversation I had illustrated all of these points as he showed me his big dog which growled at anyone fiercely but once it knew you it became a lovable beast.

He explained to me he had been in the military since then he had gotten in trouble with the law. He then showed me his ankle monitor as if modeling it . He told us he tested it and  had almost walked to the side street as far as he could go. “Better not test it anymore. Enough with the Five-O.” His real name was Greg Heyman but we called him tomahawk 

Many early mornings as I walked to work sometimes 5am,  he would be lurking in between his apartment and his parked trailer. I became uneasy and was not sure how he viewed me from one minute to the next. He had a puzzling look on his face like he was in a daze or high off something.

Sometimes, I was not interested in conversation and wasn’t sure how he would view this and imagine  that his tomahawk would come flying at me at any moment. It was another example of the characters in the neighborhood that most of the time we wanted as little contact as possible. It seemed ironic that many of the protectors of the neighborhood seemed more sketchy than everyone else! It became unclear who protected us and who we needed protection from.

                                                                                 

Edgar Rider is a writer living in Riverside, California and spending other time in Scottsdale, Arizona. He has been published in Copperfield Review, Birmingham Arts Journal, Existere, and Scarlet LeaF Review. He has written and published three books 5990, Go Bare Maximum and Transcending in the Fictional Burnot.