Comrade Marcel
30th October 2003, 14:00
Kevin's Thoughts
by: Marcell Rodden
Kevin sat alone in his small bachelor apartment - which was more like a room than an apartment - thinking over his situation. He sat down on his bed with his head turned toward the big old wood framed mirror on his wall, starring at the reflection of nothing but the ceiling. Kevin was thinking about how empty his fridge was, how much money he owed to rent, and how tired he was. He felt groggy & in a mood bad enough to kill someone. Who would he kill? The way he felt it would be anyone who knocked on his door & dared to disturb him at that moment. But, if there was anyone in particular he would have loved to kill, it would have been his landlord. The envision in his head of strangling his landlord gave him a feeling of pleasure so deep it actually caused a small tremor all throughout his entire body. Everyday his landlord came by, always when Kevin was trying to sleep, asking for the rest of the rent, & everyday Kevin told him the same thing: "As soon as I get paid I will give you the rest". Kevin only managed to get about 3 hours sleep, the same as yesterday. It was 10:00PM, and Kevin would have to start work in 2 hours. The thought of having to go made him so angry that he wanted to reach out & grab the chair next to his bed - the sole piece of furniture in his room other than the bed & dresser, which all came with the apartment - & smash it to pieces. That would only make things worse, he thought. The landlord would probably take the $200 security deposit Kevin put down to rent the place for smashing the chair. Almost nothing belonged to Kevin. Kevin owned a few pairs of jeans, a couple of shirts, some socks, underwear, an alarm clock radio & a couple of photographs of his family members from back home. He thought about when he used to live back home, when he was still a kid & life was easy, the weather was warm, there was lots of weed to smoke, rum to drink & plenty of girls. Everyone from back home would tell him how lucky he is to have came to this country. But what was so great about it? There was supposed to be great opportunity here, but it sure didn't seem like it. Yes, he did get paid more money now than back home, but he had to spend more to live. By the time he paid rent (and that was biggest chunk of his income), child support & covered transit costs to get to work; he was left virtually broke & always hungry. Kevin started thinking about the horridly bright yellow grocery store were he worked. He started thinking about the 2 night crew managers Chris & Steve who bossed him around at night. Chris & Steve were only half Kevin's age, & had worked at the store for less time. But the store owner had given them promotions. Kevin thought about how he wasn't even considered a full time employee yet, even though he worked over 40 hours per week. How he longed for those benefits! 2 of his back teeth were hurting & he wanted to see a dentist, if only he could get that coverage! But those 2 assholes Chris & Steve - who didn't even use their benefits & constantly spoke out against the Union - got the full time position Kevin had wanted. Those ass kissing Bastards! Now that they are in charge they barely lift a finger during work! They ride around the store on the power trucks as if it was a damn playground, & bark out orders like everyone else is their slave. The only 2 white guys in charge of 2 black guys and 3 Filipinos. They were racist bastards, all the managers! Secretly in the lunch room they would make their comments among each other well reading the Toronto Sun. Kevin had heard them but knew that they didn't know he did. All these thoughts shot a new wave of anger throughout Kevin, so much so that he actually stood up off his bed and let out a scream: "RRROOOAAHH!". He sat back down and put his hands over his face & started thinking of what to do. Call in sick? Just stay home and not call? Maybe phone and scream: "I quit and fuck you all to hell!". No, Kevin thought it would be more fun to tell them in person. But, that would be just giving in. He should stick it out, keep working & slowly build up to my revenge for all the months of ill treatment & taunting. Revenge? But how? Kevin thought realistically. The owner will never fire those guys, he thinks they're "good boys". He knew he could snitch them out for a whole bunch of stuff: Steve had sex - more than once - with his girlfriend on the owners desk, Chris would smoke weed in the basement, and they both never paid for the microwave lunches that they took; among other things. But the owner would never believe a black guy over 2 white guys, especially those 2 "good boys". Kevin thought about bashing their heads in with a soup can, & it made him smile briefly. But that wasn't thinking realistically either. He would only get caught, go to jail, then probably get deported. Kevin got up & went to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and washing up, he began to get ready for another long trek out in the freezing cold. He turned on the radio on his alarm clock. "-17 out there tonight, bundle up" said the voice. Kevin hated the bus. He hated waiting for it & he hated having to ride it for 40 minutes. Kevin got on his jacket and tattered boots. He was thinking about food but tried to stop himself. He knew the only way he was going to get any was by stealing it from work, unless he could borrow some money from someone. Heading out the door he started to think about work again: the endless piles of stock that needed to go on the shelves, the equally endless amounts of cardboard to clean up & mopping the floor; all well being barked at to work faster by those 2 "good boys". Or maybe Chris & Steve would have a special job in mind like last weeks demeaning task of sweeping out under the shelves, flat down on his belly, reaching under to pull out rotten fruits, dead mice, pieces of candy, coins, & other surprises. The thought almost stopped Kevin at the door. Kevin closed his eyes for a second. "Just tough it out" he thought. He started to think about his daughter as he locked his door. He wondered how she was doing, and wished he could have sent her more than $20 for the Christmas that had just passed. He walked down the hall and out of his building, headed out for another night of working hell.
by: Marcell Rodden
Kevin sat alone in his small bachelor apartment - which was more like a room than an apartment - thinking over his situation. He sat down on his bed with his head turned toward the big old wood framed mirror on his wall, starring at the reflection of nothing but the ceiling. Kevin was thinking about how empty his fridge was, how much money he owed to rent, and how tired he was. He felt groggy & in a mood bad enough to kill someone. Who would he kill? The way he felt it would be anyone who knocked on his door & dared to disturb him at that moment. But, if there was anyone in particular he would have loved to kill, it would have been his landlord. The envision in his head of strangling his landlord gave him a feeling of pleasure so deep it actually caused a small tremor all throughout his entire body. Everyday his landlord came by, always when Kevin was trying to sleep, asking for the rest of the rent, & everyday Kevin told him the same thing: "As soon as I get paid I will give you the rest". Kevin only managed to get about 3 hours sleep, the same as yesterday. It was 10:00PM, and Kevin would have to start work in 2 hours. The thought of having to go made him so angry that he wanted to reach out & grab the chair next to his bed - the sole piece of furniture in his room other than the bed & dresser, which all came with the apartment - & smash it to pieces. That would only make things worse, he thought. The landlord would probably take the $200 security deposit Kevin put down to rent the place for smashing the chair. Almost nothing belonged to Kevin. Kevin owned a few pairs of jeans, a couple of shirts, some socks, underwear, an alarm clock radio & a couple of photographs of his family members from back home. He thought about when he used to live back home, when he was still a kid & life was easy, the weather was warm, there was lots of weed to smoke, rum to drink & plenty of girls. Everyone from back home would tell him how lucky he is to have came to this country. But what was so great about it? There was supposed to be great opportunity here, but it sure didn't seem like it. Yes, he did get paid more money now than back home, but he had to spend more to live. By the time he paid rent (and that was biggest chunk of his income), child support & covered transit costs to get to work; he was left virtually broke & always hungry. Kevin started thinking about the horridly bright yellow grocery store were he worked. He started thinking about the 2 night crew managers Chris & Steve who bossed him around at night. Chris & Steve were only half Kevin's age, & had worked at the store for less time. But the store owner had given them promotions. Kevin thought about how he wasn't even considered a full time employee yet, even though he worked over 40 hours per week. How he longed for those benefits! 2 of his back teeth were hurting & he wanted to see a dentist, if only he could get that coverage! But those 2 assholes Chris & Steve - who didn't even use their benefits & constantly spoke out against the Union - got the full time position Kevin had wanted. Those ass kissing Bastards! Now that they are in charge they barely lift a finger during work! They ride around the store on the power trucks as if it was a damn playground, & bark out orders like everyone else is their slave. The only 2 white guys in charge of 2 black guys and 3 Filipinos. They were racist bastards, all the managers! Secretly in the lunch room they would make their comments among each other well reading the Toronto Sun. Kevin had heard them but knew that they didn't know he did. All these thoughts shot a new wave of anger throughout Kevin, so much so that he actually stood up off his bed and let out a scream: "RRROOOAAHH!". He sat back down and put his hands over his face & started thinking of what to do. Call in sick? Just stay home and not call? Maybe phone and scream: "I quit and fuck you all to hell!". No, Kevin thought it would be more fun to tell them in person. But, that would be just giving in. He should stick it out, keep working & slowly build up to my revenge for all the months of ill treatment & taunting. Revenge? But how? Kevin thought realistically. The owner will never fire those guys, he thinks they're "good boys". He knew he could snitch them out for a whole bunch of stuff: Steve had sex - more than once - with his girlfriend on the owners desk, Chris would smoke weed in the basement, and they both never paid for the microwave lunches that they took; among other things. But the owner would never believe a black guy over 2 white guys, especially those 2 "good boys". Kevin thought about bashing their heads in with a soup can, & it made him smile briefly. But that wasn't thinking realistically either. He would only get caught, go to jail, then probably get deported. Kevin got up & went to the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and washing up, he began to get ready for another long trek out in the freezing cold. He turned on the radio on his alarm clock. "-17 out there tonight, bundle up" said the voice. Kevin hated the bus. He hated waiting for it & he hated having to ride it for 40 minutes. Kevin got on his jacket and tattered boots. He was thinking about food but tried to stop himself. He knew the only way he was going to get any was by stealing it from work, unless he could borrow some money from someone. Heading out the door he started to think about work again: the endless piles of stock that needed to go on the shelves, the equally endless amounts of cardboard to clean up & mopping the floor; all well being barked at to work faster by those 2 "good boys". Or maybe Chris & Steve would have a special job in mind like last weeks demeaning task of sweeping out under the shelves, flat down on his belly, reaching under to pull out rotten fruits, dead mice, pieces of candy, coins, & other surprises. The thought almost stopped Kevin at the door. Kevin closed his eyes for a second. "Just tough it out" he thought. He started to think about his daughter as he locked his door. He wondered how she was doing, and wished he could have sent her more than $20 for the Christmas that had just passed. He walked down the hall and out of his building, headed out for another night of working hell.