“Yo, yo, yo! Look over there! Don’t look now, you’re gonna get us all caught. You see that? The ass on her, oh my goodness. I’m gonna have to give that a ten out of ten.” 

“That prime black booty! It’s a dime for me just on principle.” 

“Nah, y’all tripping. That’s a five at best. Now… if it was a white girl with an ass like that? That would be pushing eleven for me.” 

“You’re a damn coon, Demarcus.” 

Night. It was the time of night where people were just coming home from work. A group of teens were drinking and generally having a good time ogling the office women click clacking their heels past them. 

“Fuck you Travis, you ever had the privilege of clapping the cheeks of a P.A.W.G.? That’s what heaven feels like.” Demarcus laughed as he took a swig of his beer. 

“You’re just putting the white female on a pedestal brother. Black booty - the firmness, the roundness, the elasticity? God damn. If you see a white girl with a big booty, it’s just fat. Where’s the shape? The bounce? What the hell is a pawg anyway?” 

“A phat ass white girl!” Joel and Demarcus roared at the same time. 

“Me, I don’t discriminate. Black girls, white girls, latinas, Indians, if the ass phat? Joel gonna hit it.” 

“Even Asians?” Travis asked.

“If the ass phat, Joel gonna hit it.” 

“Damn, well, I don’t agree with you, but I can respect the philosophy.” Travis laughed. 

Sirens blared. Red and blue lights flashed, converging towards the bench the three were having their ground shaking conversation. 

“Five-O, watch out.” Travis cocked his head towards the police car that was slowly making its way towards them; arrogance seeping out of its white and blue paint. It crawled to a stop in front of them.The doors opened, and the car dipped by a noticeable amount as two officers squeezed out. 

One was gargantuan, had a rouge pallor, blue uniform, white-as-snow wisps of hair and a thick Tom Selleck moustache. A genuine patriot. Crumbs dusted his chest like the uniform was designed that way, and what was presumably, and probably stereotypically, doughnut icing bafflingly stained his chin. He had a brass nameplate. Officer Dawkins.

The other was equally as huge, but was black and had this great, big, shit-eating grin on his face. Officer Michaels.

“Alright, boys, time to break this party up. Noise complaint got you,” Dawkins swaggered towards them. 

“Noise complaint? Y’all even know that’s bullshit.” Joel sneered. 

“Bullshit? Well why don’t I go ahead and add a drinking in public charge to that too? Let’s see how the judge takes bullshit.” 

Demarcus clicked his tongue, “Man, why are you always pressing us? It’s the 21st century. It’s a damn free country. We have the internet!” 

“You guys are always bothering us. The shit you do to us must be unlawful or unconstitutional. This is harassment!” Travis spat.

“Listen here boy, stop shooting your mouth off. You’d do best to remember one thing.” Dawkins stood above Travis, his massive frame trying to seem imposing. 

“I am the law, I am the constitution. And you’re under arrest.” 

“You’re under arrest.” Michaels parroted. 

“Are you serious? You’re really arresting him over some beers?” Joel was indignant as he shouted. 

People’s gazes were attracted towards the scene. They stopped. A crowd was starting to form. One guy even pulled out a cellphone and started filming. 

“Calm down, boy…” Michaels tapped his gun. 

Joel was incensed. He wasn’t the type to bend to threats. 

“What the fuck did you just say? You, calling me, boy?” Joel was about to start yelling the grandest of obscenities at Officer Michaels, but Travis calmed him down. 

“Remember what happened last time,” Travis whispered. He stood up. 

“Where the handcuffs at, pig?” Travis looked the policemen dead in the eyes, turned around, and held his hands out. 

Dawkins’ smug face beamed as he leaned in and slapped the cuffs onto Travis. 

“This is just how it is, next time you’d do well to stop being so uppity… or you might find yourself in a ‘routine traffic stop’ one of these days,” Dawkins’ hot breath in Travis’ ear made his stomach turn. 

Anger as hot as liquid metal rose in his veins but Travis kept it in. He had to. Travis had been around long enough to know that there was no winning in this situation. Society was just so. Power was just so. Strength meant nothing. It was who you knew, who you were that mattered. Travis was just an unemployed black man in the eyes of society. And that was just so. 

He got down onto his knees then laid on his stomach. Prone. 

Joel and Demarcus were livid. 

“You think just because you’re the police you can just fuck with us? What the hell?” Joel screamed. He went up to the police officers and started shouting in their faces. 

“Are y’all getting pleasure from it? Does it turn you on keeping a black man down?” 

“You know what, you’re under arrest too.” Michaels pulled out his handcuffs and jangled them at Joel like he was shaking a toy at a dog. 

“No, fuck you.” Joel ground his teeth. 

“Are you resisting arrest?” Michaels’ smile was truly smug in the worst way. He pulled out his walkie talkie, “request for backup, suspect resisting arrest,” 

In no time at all, a cluster-fuck of police cars swerved onto the scene. A mob of eight policemen filed out. They all rushed onto Joel, all trying to slam him onto the ground. Joel tried to resist, and Demarcus was going crazy cursing till his eyes turned bloodshot. 

In the midst of the chaos, Travis’ eyes turned cold. He got up and ran forward, slamming into the group of cops. Three of them tumbled to the ground, but the rest grabbed onto Travis, holding him still as he bit and struggled. 

Bang. 

One shot.

Travis’ eyes rolled back and he slackened like a dead fish. A pale policeman who couldn’t have been more than twenty three sat there wide-eyed, his bottom lip quivering, his gun smoking. He had pulled it out to threaten Travis into submission. 

The shot was like a pebble thrown into a puddle; ripples radiated outwards. The crowd was silent, but immediately started screaming. 

“Oh my god, they shot him, they actually shot him!” a woman shrieked. 

“Somebody call an ambulance!” Joel shouted. 

“You gonna be okay, Trav, this is just a flesh wound bro, it’s just a flesh wound bro.” Joel’s hands trembled. He ripped part of his shirt, trying to press on the wound. Blood gushed out of it like a river, quickly dyeing the street scarlet. After a while though, fat tears fell down his face and sobs wracked through his whole being. Blood covered his palms like a thick lick of paint. 

It was futile. Travis had been shot in the forehead. Dead centre. 

“Demarcus…” Joel looked back at his only remaining friend.

“Th..this is…” Demarcus shook as he walked towards Travis. He fell to his knees and began pumping at his chest. “1.. 2.. 3.., he’s gonna wake up soon, this is how they save lives in the movies.”

‘Damn, why does my head hurt so much?’ Travis thought. He looked at a rapidly increasing pool of blood. 

‘Is… is that blood? Is that… my blood?’ Travis laughed bitterly. ‘Well, that’s the way it is I guess. I would’ve liked to live one more day though. Birthday sex and all.’

Travis’ vision slowly turned to black.