Go ahead, say it, when you read the title of this entry you think of the Led Zeppelin song, right?
“OH MY JESUS, OH MY JESUS, OH MY JESUS!”
I feel like I’m going to die right now.
They have me surrounded. There’s no escape. I’m fast and all but there’s no way out.
There’s about five or six of them.
They’re all bigger than me. I’m 15, they look about 17, maybe 18?
I don’t have a chance.
All I’m doing is walking through the park over by Hippie Hill looking for a spot to crash. I decided to hit the grass and rest. A few cars are out on Prospect Park South West. I see the 68 bus pulling out on it’s way down Coney Island Avenue.
Sitting down on the grass is a big mistake!
Mom threw me out of the house a few hours ago. She’s always on my case.
Take the garbage out.
Make your bed.
Brush your teeth.
Eat your dinner.
Get off the phone.
Blah, Blah, Blah…
It’s a school-night, a little before midnight. All my friends have gone home. I have nowhere to go. I was thinking of going over to the boys schoolyard but I’m drunk and have a hard time walking. I also smoked a few joints tonight, so I’m in no shape to go anywhere.
Think I’ll rest my weary bones right here but I’m fucked.
“Give us your money,” one of them says.
I stand still, frozen, staring at him.
“You heard ’em, cough up your dough, bro!” another says.
“I ain’t got no money,” I reply.
It’s not what they wanna hear.
One kid steps to me and punches me in the face, I go down and hit the ground.
I wish my friends were here right now.
Why can’t Officer Doyle roll up now like he always does when we’re drinking a can of beer out of a brown paper bag.
No one ever said, “Stay out of the park at night,” Why should they? Prospect Park was safe at night. No one fucked with you, especially if you were with your friends. But now I’m alone.
I get up to my knees, I can feel blood dripping down my face.
Looking up another kid walks towards me and looks down at me.
“Give us your money and we’ll leave you alone!”
“I told you, I don’t have any, I’m broke.”
Now it’s his turn as he kicks me in the chest, I fall backwards.
All I can hear is these guys laughing.
“Check his pockets!”
“Yeah, empty this punk’s pockets and get his money!”
I’m on my back looking up and all I see is the dark sky and some stars.
One kid starts to slide his hand in my pocket. I don’t put up a fight. I figure if he goes through them, and finds nothing, he’ll leave me alone.
“This chump is broke!”
“Told ya,” I say as I’m trying to get up. Bad move. The kid pushes me back.
“Let’s kick his ass,” one kid cries out.
All I can hear are voices. I have no idea who’s who.
They begin to take turns punching and kicking me. One time I watched ‘West Side Story’ and now I feel like I’m part of the cast; getting jumped.
A sneaker in my rib cage, a fist on my head, a punch in the face; holy shit, I’m getting my ass kicked and there’s nothing I can do about it. I remember someone once said if you ever get jumped by a bunch of kids just roll up into a ball and cover your head.
I try that, it doesn’t seem to work. I wish they would leave me alone. I didn’t do anything to them.
After a ton of blows from these guys they finally stop. I’m on the grass almost certain I’m about to die. I can’t feel any part of my body. I see them walking away and can hear them laughing. At least I’m not blind and can still hear. They walk towards the road in the park and pass the horse corral. I can barely make out what they look like. I have no idea where they come from or where they’re going.
In my time of dying, want nobody to mourn
All I want for you to do is take my body home
Well, well, well, so I can die easy…
Jesus, gonna make up my dyin’ bed.
Meet me, Jesus, meet me. Meet me in the middle of the air
If my wings should fail me, Lord. Please meet me with another pair