T.P.S

T.P.S

Cypress Hills Brooklyn is a sprawling, vibrant neighborhood filled with working class families and a diversity of peoples. There are beautiful old buildings, hilly backstreets, and one huge park. I decided to ride my mountain bike up Highland Pl. to Highland Park this sultry, summer day. After weaving through the countless people crossing the streets, I arrived at the park. I quickly dismounted and took a seat on one of the benches situated at the Jamaica Ave. entrance....I just sat there contemplating life and taking in my surroundings. As I sat there, observing the activities of the romping kids, I realized that there is nothing more beautiful and precious in this society than the sounds and scenes of happy children.

After several more minutes of sitting, observing, and absorbing the invigorating rays of the sun, I jumped back on my bike, and pedaled off. I've lived in Brooklyn all my life and had been to this park more times than I could count. Nonetheless, Highland Park is capacious in its dimensions, one filled with niches, hidden pseudo valleys, and remote areas eerily similar to swampland. On this day, I actually found a small park within this park. There was nothing amazing about this smaller park, all it contained were some swings, seesaws, and a smattering of benches along the inside of the fence that encircled us. There were a group of kids anxiously gathered around one of those tiny park water fountains that only allow the water to come up so much. I went back in time to my childhood years....and remembered that the pressure in those fountains were so low that I practically had to put my lips on the faucet itself just to get enough water to drink. And, just as fast as the remembrance came...it was gone, and I quickly adjusted my eyes to the blazing glare of the sun, and looked around. The queue of children waiting to quench their thirst hadn't diminished any, in fact it was longer...A man walked into the park and sat about twenty feet from the fountain. Out of curiosity I glanced at my watch...3:30 p.m. Had I been riding around for two and a half hours already?! The man looked like the grandfatherly type or at the very least avuncular. He was unassuming and didn't move much. He just sat there...and watched. A little girl, probably between 7 and 10 passed him on her way to the fountain. She gave him a disinterested, dismissive look before skipping off. The short, balding, seemingly sun deprived man looked intently after the child. Thinking that the little girl must know, or be related to the man, I got up to leave. Then a vision came to me, and I uneasily sat back down. I had seen this stare before, but couldn't place it. However, in a New York minute...it came to me. I was watching a segment about the lions of the Serengeti on the National Geographic Channel. In one scene a lioness was intensely eyeing one zebra out a herd of many at a watering hole. I made the connection, and immediately became nauseated and disgusted! This was his watering hole to patrol. The afternoon watch of a human predator! What are the chances of sitting in a city park and encountering one of them? Better yet, what were the chances of him doing what I thought he was doing and encountering someone like me?

Not wanting to be presumptuous, I reserved my judgement just to make sure.The man was oblivious to everything, except the child he pinned with his gaze. Then he did the unthinkable. He put his hand in his pocket and started playing with himself! A low guttural drone rose from my chest and entered my throat. I was humming a melody I didn't even know...The child finished her drink and rather abruptly headed towards the bathroom. "Chester" didn't wait too long, he purposely got up and sauntered towards the bathroom as well, with me several feet behind him. When I reached the bathroom, the disturbo had already grabbed the child and was groping at her clothes. Without him ever turning around, I had closed the distance and was directly behind him. "Hey", I said without ever raising my voice above a whisper. Before he was even able to turn his neck a fraction of an inch I reacted. All my years of martial arts training just took over and I struck him right at the Feng Fu. That would be the area at the base of the skull where the medulla oblongata is located. It was a kill strike. I heard the almost inaudible crack from his skull, and everything around it shattering from the "Empty Force" of the blow. "Chester" went limp and crumpled to the floor.There was no blood. I didn't even leave a mark. I lightly pressed two fingers to his neck to see if he was dead...he was. The little girl looked terrified and traumatized, but she came a short distance and jumped right into my arms. She held me tight around the neck and just cried. I have to admit I cried too. "Shh", I said trying to comfort her. I carried her outside into the waning sunlight and put her down in the midst of the other children. Recognizing that she was a young Latina I asked, "Donde esta tu madre y tu padre?", I asked softly not wanting to sound harsh or pushy. "Yo no se senor They went out and told me to go play in the park until they came back." I looked around and saw that all the young ones there were alone and unsupervised. "Hmm", I said and reached for my cell phone. "911, what's your emergency?" "There's a man dead in the bathroom of Highland Park. "How do you know he's dead? "I checked, I said flatly. "And, what is your nam...?" "My name isn't important" I said, instantly cutting her off. "There's a little girl that this man tried to molest, she's wearing an OshKosh jumper, reebok sneakers, and she has braids in her hair. She's with her friends, she'll explain everything to you when you arrive." "Sir, I would like to know your name." "My name is" I paused for a minute to ponder. "Justice", I said calmly and broke the connection. I knelt down in front of the girl and kissed her on the forehead. "Esta bien?", I asked and smiled. "Si senor, yo estoy mejor" "When the police arrive explain to them what happened okay?" "Okay", she said as a smile that only a child could muster formed around her mouth. I put my cellphone on the ground, leapt in the air, and came down, smashing it into pieces. I could hear the sirens coming and knew that I had to leave in a hurry. The sirens were so close, there was no time to retrieve my bike. As I began to make my exit, the little girl ran up to me. She took me by the hand, looked up at me and said, "Gracias senor, eres mi heroe." I smiled weakly and replied "De nada nina eres mi heroe tambien", and then walked calmly away. When the police arrived I was a safe distance away. I saw as the little girl made gestures and height measurements as if she were describing another person. I gathered that they asked her which direction I walked in. She pointed in the opposite direction...I turned and walked until I came to Jamaica Ave. I slowed to a steady stroll and realized that I was humming that unfamiliar tune again.This time though I had a name for it....T.P.S... (T)he (P)edecutioner's

(S)ong