There is a man in this neighborhood I am staying in. He is a snitch for the government, he trades information for privileges. Everyone is afraid of him because he can have anyone arrested at anytime just by telling lies about them. So, they are afraid to say anything bad about him. He is a bully. He is about sixty and looks precisely like a Greyback Gorilla; small, sloping forehead, large jaw, stout muscular build, ovale head, short grey beard, short greying hair, big lips, dead eyes. He is loud, bombastic, he insults people in the street constantly. He knows they can;t say anything because they are afraid of his power, his relationship with the police. He walks into stores and takes what he wants, stares down the shopkeeper and goes on his way. He has everyone cowed.
A few days ago he buttonholed me on the sidewalk. He poked his finger into my chest while telling me how all Americans were selfish, that we were all warmongers, that there would be a day when we would all pay. He insulted me personally, repeatedly, called me an hijo puta. I had to take it. I couldn’t fight back.
I dream of getting a baseball bat and beating him to death. A shot to the brain is too merciful for him. I would crush his skull to mush with repeated blows in a second if it didn;t mean spending the rest of my life in a Cuban prison. And I would enjoy every moment of it.
Knowing he is down there on the street and free to carry on and make other’s lives miserable made me angry today.