MPH

"I just want you to be happy, in this life and the next"says the robber. He stands over me with his steel toe pressing against my cheek, my turquoise backpack in his hand.

He takes out my computer and sighs.

“Mph" I protest mildly, but he only nods reverentially.

Later, when he's done, he kicks me in the gut and walks away, disappearing into the park foliage.

Groaning, I sit up. My back, which had been pressed against the damp hard mud of a offshoot foot path within the park screams out in pain, as though my very spine has been twisted in half.

I taste blood in my mouth from where I bit my tongue moments before, and I am suddenly aware of the warm close scent of piss that has blotched my khakis. The agony of those long moments I spent on the ground has my muscles quivering.

"I want to help you be happy" the man had kept saying as he had brutalized me. “Renounce all things and Praise the Lord!"

I had shouted out to save my life but his quick and heavy punches and his absolute manhandling completely disarmed me.

Along with my computer and backpack, he had taken my wallet and phone, making sure to verbally ascertain the specifications and contents of each item.

Then he had turned to his real duty.

“Will you renounce Satan? Will you say that you will become a follower of Christ and accept that He is Lord and Savior?"

For what must have been a full 20 minutes, the man prayed  on top of me. He asked that God forgive my wanton ways, and declared that the evil that resided within me could and  would be exorcised. He  thanked the Lord  for using him as an instrument of His Divine Will, and thanked Him for bestowing him such gifts as the Samsung Galaxy III, the MacBook Air with enhanced retina display, and the wallet with $88 cash and freshly filled monthly metro card.

As I stumble out of the park, I wonder at the fact that he didn't praise God for my bio chemistry data set, and my field notes.

When I finally make it to the street, I scan the passing cars. Hailing a cab is obviously out of the question;I haven't any money.

Perhaps I'll flag down the police. But... What would I say? That I had become thirsty for the carnal after the late shift at the lab? That the rawness of making it happen in the park after dark with strangers turns me on? That what I thought was going to be a routine cruising had gone oh so horribly wrong?  No, no, I could certainly not speak to the police.

Still though, I'm miles from home and this spring air is chilly. My jacket is skilled and ruffled, and I know I must look disturbing. I call out to a man nearby in a black peacoat, begging for bus fare. The dog he walks issues a low growl, and the man hurriedly crosses the street. I try to wave down an elderly lady with a cane, and she shrieks, loudly telling me to back away.

A sad realization comes to the fore of my frazzled mind. I am young, male,  and black, and I appear to be utterly destitute. There will be no one to help me.   Hanging my head, I begin to the trudge north, my burden heavy in my soul.