The dude gets on the subway, slightly stoned, with his customary backpack, foolishly stocked to the brim with a surprising variety of prescription drugs to deliver to some college kids in West Philly who offered to buy everything he can get his hands on. Since he's only going a few stops, he decides to sit right next to the door. He decides to pull out his mp3 player and listen to some music while he's in transit. While focused on fooling around in the outer pocket of his backpack trying to reach it, he doesn't notice the 3 transit cops who have just boarded the train. Apparently they're only going a few stops too, as they decide to stand in the doorway. Although they barely take notice of the slightly stoned college kid fiddling with his headphones, they effectively bracket him in making for quite a round of paranoia. He looks up, and is surprised to say the least at the latest development, but fights to remain calm. He then remembers that he probably still smells like weed, and in his paranoid state of mind decides the best course of action is to try and breathe as infrequently as possible without being obvious so they won't smell his breath. He turns his headphones down so he can hear what they are saying. One of the cops is relating a story about a previous incident to his buddies.
"...and we had just cleared our tab when they called in a simple altercation in Kensington. We were only a few blocks away from the place so we decided to swing by. Apparently this girl...you know, mid-twenties, black baby-mama type rolls over to her kids fathers house with the intent of starting some shit."
"It's always some shit with these broads, man.." another cop interjects.
"No kidding. So anyway, she pulls up and he's outside washing his car, sees her and knows she came to pick a fight so he tries to head her off at the pass. She double parks and gets out of the car screaming some shit at him about God-knows-what. The neighbor calls it in saying he's tired of all the noise, blah blah blah. Only this time, the girl has a can of mace in her hand. So the dude keeps telling her put it down, get back in the car, she ain't listenin'. Finally he lunges for it but the bitch is quick, hit's him square in the face."
"I wish a bitch would..." interrupts the black cop.
"So we pull up and see the dude grabbing his face with one hand, swatting at her with the other, screaming bloody murder the whole time. He's staggering around, can't see shit, trips backwards over the curb, half his body hanging out in the street when the dudes mother comes out on the porch. She sees what's going on, starts yelling at the girl to stop, who turns and looks at her, turns back to the dude laying on the ground and goes to mace him again and starts kicking him and shit. We jump out of the car, my partner went for the girl and I was gonna grab the dude. By this time, his mother, who by the way is a big side of beef, has lumbered out onto the porch in her oversized moo-moo, screaming ebonics, and falls down trying to move so fast. Of course, my partner's got his hands full with this chick so I have to go check out the mother. I radio for a truck while I'm running up the steps to the porch where she fell, and I mean this was a big bitch, must have hit her head or something, out cold. I'm sitting there thinking, 'no way im mouth-to-mouthing this water-buffalo. Meanwhile the dude on the ground is starting to regain his composure and is not happy that this bitch came through starting ruckus first thing in the afternoon and gets up like he's gonna have at her. My partner has to pull the bitch away, he's yelling at the dude to stay down, I'm looking at this 400 pound black woman, with dirty black feet smelling like chicken grease wondering, 'why didn't i listen to my mother and go to college?" Jocular laughter ensues.
Now that the story is over, one of the cops has taken a passing notice at the silly-looking kid with the over-sized backpack and the now red-face from holding his breath which he has finally realized he can no longer take. He sees the cop looking at him and tries to nod placidly. As he drops his head down he tries as calmly as possible to exhale without blowing too hard. The sudden release of the air in his upper body causes the arrangement of things in his backpack to shift slightly. Now a slight shift in the orientation of prescription pill containers can produce quite a recognizable noise. A noise that he instantly recognized as the sound of him becoming, as they say, fucked.
One of the cops gives him an inquisitive look as if he knows something is up, but cant quite put his finger on what. Possibly because his finger was presently pressed against the inner pocket of his officer's jacket where his soon-to-be empty pack of Marlboro lights rested.
The kid looks away to the other side of the subway car, as most teenage kids do when the cops start mugging them. The car came to a stop at the Spring Garden station. It was at this point that he had to decide, whether to take a gamble that the cops were getting off and stay put himself, or make a break for the cover of downtown Philadelphia where he would surely blend in with the rest of the riffraff.
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