Lord of Chinatown.

Lord of Chinatown.


John decided he didn’t much care for the taste of whatever steel composed his reclaimed Walther as the visibly frustrated newswoman mouthed frantically above the line “China Currency Scandal: Fall of the US Dollar?” he couldn’t find the remote to turn the volume up so he sat there trying to read her lips as three different lit cigarettes burned as incense in the ashtray on the table in front of him. he wondered what fall of the u.s. dollar could possibly mean for him. the dollar isn’t going anywhere, right? Where would it even go? A solid pillar of light struck him like a warm soft jab as a rumble from what anyone could have guessed was someone crashing head-on into the cornerstore below his apartment shook the blinds free from the window across the room Jon lit another cigarette and let room have more than he did. he no longer cared for camel. the next four days were constant talks to the dollar collapsing with varying degrees of urgency conveyed through the anchor’s face alone as he still could not find the remote. Jonathan woke up from a dream. he dreamt someone had crashed a car into the shop below him and the floor collapsed melding his bullshit apartment and his bullshit job into a pile of everything that was wrong with him. He dreamt he camped out in the hallway between the restroom and his storage at the CVS a neighborhood over, and was kicked out when he was caught testing some dice by an employee returning to grab the coat she had forgot when she left. Jon grabbed his phone and walked into the bathroom. he saw the light, and his life had begun again on this day at 3:50 in the morning. He picked up his daily routine he kept a year ago as though he had never stopped. He shaved his face, revealing a chin he had not seen in weeks and checked the price of Bitcoin. Jon began buying after the great boom a few years back, and he funnelled whatever he had left after bills and a weekly allowance directly into it. despite not adding to it for several months, John had owned roughly two Bitcoin one week ago that would equate to the price of the car he sold when moving to the city plus 350 weeks of anywhere between $200 and $10 dollars. right now, the number next to his account showed that it was worth, perhaps, twenty times that. it seems that the dollar was in fact, utterly ruined. his trance was broken by the sound of what might have been several cats arguing in whispers coming from his living room. He switched on the light to see two chinese men picking up his television. It was still plugged in and on, the savages. for a mile-long moment, the three of them stared. The man on the right – Jon’s left – pulled a knife and charged John in what was, in his mind, the most racist caricature Chinese way possible. In a motion he had practiced every day since he found it, John invoked the Second Amendment directly into his soon-to-be aggressors chest with his holy Walther pistol in an area one with little medical knowledge could determine would still be quite awful. the other man dropped the television where he stood directly on his foot. he felt on the ground and fumbled for something in his pocket. Jon shot him, too. he’d seen cops before. Jon went to call the police when he was overwhelmed with anxiety burning a hole through his own chest. this was not his gun, and neither was that: he heard a ruckus outside of the window. For the first time this week, jon looked outside. Chinatown was ruined. trash and debris lined the streets and the building across from him had been set ablaze. his confusion outweighed his anxiety for just a moment – long enough to realize that he could tell the police you wrestled the gun from one of their hands. he called emergency services and nobody answered. John lit up his last cigarette and inhaled deeply before setting it down to burn as incense in the ashtray on his living room table. he put the television back and turned it on people had begun killing Chinese citizens. The nation had reached its boiling point. John shut his door and moved some furniture in front of it. he poured himself a glass of water and sat in his window where he watched Chinatown, in flames, burn out.

6 thoughts on “Lord of Chinatown.”

  1. Damn love this honestly what a hidden gem ^-^
    Even though it made my eyes hurt at first the visualls where interesting to look at.

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