America 2009: Survival of the Underclass

The symphony of gunfire and sirens has ended. Good morning, Los Angeles!

Karen, curled up lazily on the blanket, glanced at him sitting on the edge of the bed, munching on instant cereal and gulping down mineral water in his typical white junk food routine, and teased him:

"Perhaps this is the most humiliating box of instant cereal ever; it can't even be paired with a little milk."

"More humiliating than the chocolate you smuggle into prison down your rectum?" he swallowed his cereal and turned to reply.

She immediately sprang to her feet, laughing and scolding, "Coward! You're eating and saying such disgusting things, don't you feel nauseous?"

"It's enough if it disgusts you, bitch." He shrank his neck and shook his head indifferently.

"Fuck you! You're a piece of shit!" She threw off the blanket covering her, grabbed the T-shirt next to her, and started putting it on while cursing.

"That's amazing! Is this the first time you've heard of this?" he joked.

"Are we going to go there again?" she asked, putting on her black Lululemon yoga pants.

He swallowed the cereal in his mouth, shrugged, and said, "I think we should go somewhere else, what do you think, Ms. Smith?"

She put on a sexy black blouse, loosely slipped on a red zip-up shirt, and put on white sneakers. She walked over to him, snatched the cereal box, tilted her head back and took a sip, then took the water he offered and drank it down before nodding.

"I also think we need to move to a different place—" she shook the cereal box in her hand, "Eating one bite won't make a difference, but if every box is missing a bite, it'll cause problems sooner or later."

He looked at Karen, who was pouring cereal from a box, and asked, "Dare you go deeper into South Park?!"

"Great! That's exciting!" Karen immediately stopped what she was doing and nodded excitedly.

"Eat up! Let's start the adventure after we finish eating!" He stood up, patted Karen on the shoulder, and walked towards his desk.

"Yes, sir!"

After sharing a box of cereal, the two nibbled on some of the remaining food in the plastic bag, put on volunteer vests and masks, and went out with screwdrivers in their hands.

He took two steps ahead, walked to the body of John, and fired two more shots.

"Fuck—boss!" John, who was both stunned and furious, suddenly sat up and shouted.

"Keep an eye on the warehouse, you lazybones." He nodded and led Karen toward the warehouse door.

"Okay, boss!"

Picking up the cleaning clips by the door, the two set off into the depths of the South Park, facing the morning dew.

This morning, there's no need to play the "Don't step on the homeless" game. After all, it's still winter, and even if California isn't cold, it's still tough enough early in the morning. Nobody's going to be silly enough to lie on the sidewalk with cardboard and bask in the morning sun.

Follow the graffiti along the way, and once the graffiti stops, you'll reach South Park.

The two stood at the intersection, glanced at the crime scene from yesterday, smiled at each other, but did not linger. They walked straight along the sidewalk and continued deeper into South Park Avenue.

The buildings gradually rise higher, with office buildings and high-end apartments springing up, flanked by coffee shops, luxury stores, gyms, and other places that only the elite can afford.

Men and women in suits, luxury cars everywhere on the roadside, police uniforms flashing by on street corners, and police cars whizzing by with their sirens blaring.

Everything was silently reminding the two of this:

Hey, you don't belong here.

If it weren't for their Nike hoodies, volunteer vests, and their unmistakably handsome white faces, the two of them would probably have been chased and beaten by police with batons the moment they stepped inside.

If the skin color were reversed, they probably wouldn't even qualify for a police baton; a single bullet would be enough to end it all.

The two walked expressionlessly to the intersection of South Park Avenue and South Hope Street, and looked across the traffic lights—on the small open space behind the bus stop, there were two identical sets of clothing boxes and a food box.

They stood on the shoulder of the road, turned to look at the ticking traffic light, and waited quietly.

5 seconds!

4 seconds!

3 seconds!

2 seconds!

"Hiss—Bang!" "Bang!"

Before the green light came a loud bang and a car accident right before our eyes.

The BMW turning right in front of them made an excessive turn, and the Mercedes in the opposite lane inexplicably turned left.

The vehicles were traveling at extremely high speeds, colliding head-on, with the front ends of the vehicles squeezing directly into the driver's cabs of both vehicles.

The two quickly scanned the surroundings, and the sparse pedestrians were in an uproar, pulling out their old-fashioned cell phones and frantically dialing 911 as they strolled toward the accident scene.

Unfortunately, this was a wealthy area, and there were damn security cameras. They exchanged a glance, their disappointment mixed with a hint of excitement.

The next second, the two of them took off running, Karen shouting at the top of her lungs, "Don't be afraid! We're community relief volunteers!"

Li Ang rushed straight to the deformed driver's seat of the BMW, and upon catching a glimpse of the unconscious middle-aged white man inside, a hint of smugness flashed in his eyes.

Karen leaned closer to the driver's seat of the Mercedes, looking at the white-clad female driver inside, who was dressed in a black dress and had her eyes closed, and smiled faintly.

He twisted his waist and abdomen, grabbed the door handle with both hands, and pulled open the deformed driver's door in a few quick movements, then leaned half his body inside.

She tried pulling on the car door a few times, but it wouldn't budge. Gritting her teeth, she gripped the door handle and pulled her whole body back sharply. With a "bang," the car door sprang open.

He swiftly swept his left hand across the armrest box, instantly seizing a Rolex in his hand.

She quickly pulled open the small Chanel handbag on the armrest box, hooked out a gold necklace, and hid it in her palm.

He used his left hand to unlock the seatbelt, grabbed the other person under the armpits with both hands, and roughly dragged and pulled the person out of the car, throwing him to the ground.

He then put his left hand in his pocket, pulled out his flip phone, glanced at it, and put it back in, glancing sideways at Karen as she half-entered the car.

Just two seconds later, Karen sprang to her feet, her face contorted with anxiety as she shouted at him, "The car's going to explode! Help me pull her out!"

Li Ang's expression instantly turned anxious. He immediately walked around from the back of the BMW to the driver's seat of the Mercedes and nodded to her.

He leaned into the car, unbuckled his seatbelt, reached out and lifted the person up around the waist, then turned and slowly walked to the shoulder of the sidewalk, gently placing the person on the ground.

As soon as he landed, applause erupted from all around.

All sorts of nonsense about freedom and democracy, equality for all, the spirit of America, the spirit of California, the spirit of Los Angeles, the spirit of South Park, the spirit of South Park Avenue, and the spirit of South Hope Street were dumped into their ears.

Li Ang gave a standard, formulaic smile, straightened up, turned around, and reached out to take Karen's hand as she walked quickly towards him with the same fake smile on her face.

The passersby completely ignored the two unconscious people on the ground, wearing the same formulaic smiles, and slowly surrounded them, directly activating the forced plot mode.

The crowd looked chaotic, yet they took turns praising the couple as if in a queue. The two smiled and nodded, offering a few compliments in return. The other person nodded in satisfaction and tactfully walked away.

Admiration, applause, praise, fake smile, nod, chat, compliment each other, say goodbye, leave.

If you don't understand this set of formulaic social etiquette, how can you expect to get along with people in America!

"Beep—beep—!"

"Whoa—!"

The ambulance and police sirens arrived almost simultaneously from afar.

The two of them breathed a sigh of relief—this forced plot was finally coming to an end. These past few minutes had been more agonizing than eating the apple pie baked by Aunt Mary, who had already passed away.

Not only eyewitnesses at the accident scene, but even passersby came to join in the social excitement, making it seem like it would never end.

"You're a very interesting person too!" He said with a formulaic smile and a formulaic nod.

Li Ang smiled and nodded in return, replying in a formulaic manner, "God bless you, sir."

"Same here! Bye!"

"bye!"

Seeing another white man in a suit about to approach, he immediately raised his French military salute, pointed to the convoy of police cars and ambulances approaching a few dozen meters away, and shouted, "Everyone, make way! Make way for the police officers and medical personnel!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he seized the opportunity, grabbed Karen, and the two of them ran away, forcibly exiting the story mode.

The man in the white suit watched their retreating figures, his face flashing between blankness, embarrassment, awkward laughter, annoyance, and disappointment before finally settling into calm.

[Four Steps to Determine the Scene of a White Garbage Truck Accident]

1. Only take high-value small items, don't be greedy! Be quick!

2. If there is no surveillance footage, reveal your identity as the primary eyewitness and launch a direct attack to extort money!

3. If exposed, use the life-saving grace as a shield to evade legal attacks!

4. Strictly adhere to the seven-day freeze period to avoid finding items with sentimental value that the owner might refuse to accept. At worst, their mother will just return them to you later!