So what you do? Socrates asked. He was getting angry imagining the blood of some woman shed by a man who saw his own life in that of a dog.
I followed her, Lavant said. She went into a couple'a stores carryin' Johnny in her arms but then she come to this one place, this delicatessen. They wouldn't let no dogs in there. Even that bitch couldn't break that rule and so she tied his leash to a bike rack. That's all I needed.
The man in purple showed all of his teeth. You know I pretended like I was lockin' up my bicycle but then that I changed my mind. I scooped up little Johnny and made a beeline back home. He's mine now. License, shots, everythang.
Lavant put up his hands feigning modesty at pulling off a great prank.
Why? Socrates asked.
It's a war out here, brother, Lavant Hall said with conviction. They wanna make us into slaves with the dollar. They wanna make us into slaves next to the TV. They even wanna make you a slave to taxes, my brother. You pay 'em yo' money an' they use it to buy your chains.
Listen, man, Socrates said. I done heard all that shit in the lockup. All day long you hear men talk about bein' political prisoners an' all that shit. What I wanna know is what's all that got to do with you stealin' that woman's dog?
They had both stopped walking at the south end of the park. Socrates let Killer's backside down on the grass. But the dog didn't care because he was with his new best friend, barking and biting playfully.
I didn't steal 'im I freed 'im, Lavant said with glee in his high voice. I'm a freedom fighter. That's my job twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. While you sleepin' I'm out fightin' for freedom. While you makin' chains I'm puttin' acid in the locks. While you countin' your pennies on a bare tabletop I'm partyin' with the people free from all the raggedy flags and law books of the Man.
You do all that, huh?
Yep, I do, Lavant said.
Then why ain't I heard about you, you so famous?
You done heard you just don't know. I'm all around you but I'm invisible like Ralph Ellison.
I don't know him either. And I still don't see why you stole that dog. But I thank you for the cigarette. Socrates bent down to heft Killer's rope and said, Come on, boy. Let's get you home before somebody wants to make you free.
Hey, brother, hold up, Lavant Hall said. What they have you in prison for?
I broke the law right on the jaw, Socrates said. I fucked it up and they come down on me with a hundred tons of chain.
The man with the different-color eyes got serious.
They can lock up your body, the purple man said. But your mind is yours even if you don't want it.
Socrates stopped a moment to think over those words. He nodded and then nodded again. Then he gave a little half wave and turned away.
He walked back toward his own apartment. Before he reached his home he had forgotten about Lavant Hall; except for once in the middle of the night when he was awakened by a thickly sweet odor. He sniffed his left hand in the darkness and realized that it was the scent of Lavant Hall's cologne.
September was hotter than August that year. One Saturday it was so bad that Socrates got a ride from the gypsy cabbie, Milton Langonier, out to Venice Beach where he and Darryl walked along the ocean with Killer at dusk.
Every hundred yards or so Killer would test the waves with his big red tongue, hoping to find fresh water somewhere in that vast ocean.
How you like yo' new job? Darryl asked. He was lanky and awkward but Socrates could see the beginning contours of a man's face coming out to replace the child's.
They miss you down at the store, Darryl. Robyn and Sarah always askin' after you.
Really? the child said. That Robyn's fine.
They both cute. Socrates liked the black and white girlfriends even though they were wealthy and didn't know a thing.
I miss 'em too but Howard won't let me work at Bounty no mo'.
That ain't true an' you know it, boy. Me an' Howard an' Corina all talked to that vice principal. He said you got to buckle down if you wanna get good grades.
Darryl bent down quickly and picked up a fistful of sand, which he threw into the water. Killer barked and lurched against Socrates' grip, looking for the ball he used to chase when he had four legs.
Come on, boy, Socrates said. Let's go on up and get you a chili dog.
There was a big boarded-up building on the promenade. It was vacant but not abandoned. Men had been working on the inside changing it into some new business to sell trinkets or junk food at the beach. There was an unfinished pine plank blocking the main entrance. Socrates and Darryl sat on the step there eating their hot dogs and fries.
Pasted on the planking was a large yellow poster which was printed with bright red lettering.
It's War!
The racist and imperialist forces of Amerika are waging a war on you; a war in your schools, a war on your bodies and your minds. The poison in your food is chemical warfare. The lies in the schools are propaganda and nothing less.
Wake up! Wake up, Amerika! Don't let your children drown in the gutter. Don't let the so-called Democrats and their so-called free elections tell you what's on your mind. You got freedom on your mind. You got love on your mind. You got a good time with good neighbors on your mind.
They're using your money to kill in Rwanda, to kill in South Amerika, and right here in your own backyard. They put the blood in your hands but don't you drink it.
If there's a war you could win it. Just stand up and fight. Burn down the raggedy flags of the Man.
Rebel, Rebel
Socrates eyed the poster because of the bright red letters on the yellow paper. He looked closer at the texture of the paper than at the words. It was rough fabric plastered with thick glue onto the wall. There had been attempts to tear it away but the poster had resisted. Looking closer Socrates realized that the words were handwritten, each letter painstakingly rendered between faint pencil lines. It was then that Socrates felt something familiar about the poster. Not the words but the poster itself.
So you like it? Darryl asked.
Like what?
The produce job?
Yeah. Yeah, I like it fine, Socrates said. Work hard though. Harder'n motherfucker when Marty gets a bug in his ass. But I make some money though. A poor man might think I was rich.
You gonna move? Darryl asked.
I just barely got a phone, man. Gimme some time.
It's just that they got some good apartments out around here. You could come live out here if you wanted. Darryl pulled his head back, indicating that it didn't matter one way or another if Socrates moved closer to him.
But Socrates knew better. He looked up at the poster again.
Huh, the big man grunted.
What?
I was just thinkin', Socrates said. You wanna come stay out at my house tonight?
Yeah, the boy said without hesitation.
The next morning they were both up early. Killer was ready for a walk. They went down to Iula's house where they made pancakes and pork links for her.
We figure that you cook every day, I, Socrates told his weekend girlfriend. At least one day a year somebody should make a meal for you.
Iula smiled and drank her coffee. She took only a bite of pancake, explaining that she never really ate until afternoon.