America 2009: Survival of the Underclass

The two, embodying the American spirit, ran for almost a kilometer before letting out a sigh of relief, exchanging a glance, and laughing and cursing at each other.

"Jesus! Christ! These damn bastards are fucking disgusting."

"Yeah, Lyon, if this is the price of money, I'd fucking eat White Castle every day."

Li Ang quickly glanced around, pulled out his Rolex from his pocket, waved it in front of Karen, and smirked: "But this guy actually has pretty good taste."

"What model?" she asked curiously, staring at his hand as he shoved it back into his jeans pocket.

"Datejust 36".

"Cool! He definitely has good taste!"

He laughed and patted Karen on the shoulder.

Karen bumped his waist hard with her shoulder, raising an eyebrow with a smile: "That's enough to buy a used Explorer, that's cool."

"And you, Ms. Smith, what good find did you pull out?" he asked softly, glancing at the pedestrians crossing the street.

She opened her palm, revealing a thin gold chain that gleamed in her hand. "1000 cuts guaranteed," she said crisply.

He patted Karen on the shoulder, took her hand, and raised his chin: "Come on, it's still early, let's continue our adventure."

"Could you buy me an Explorer?" she asked sweetly, tilting her head back.

"Can we wait until we have more money?" He looked down at her.

"Deal! But you have to buy it for me!" She nodded vigorously.

The two, who made a fortune by selling a single cleaning clip, continued south, crossing two blocks to reach the bus stop at the intersection of La Brea Avenue and Sixth Street.

The two took off their green vests and stuffed them into their hoodie pockets.

In just two minutes, a blue, green and white bus slowly drove up and came to a steady stop in front of us.

He took Karen's hand and led her to the car, nodding slightly to the Black driver who was sizing them up: "Homeless, God bless you, sir."

After saying that, he took Karen's hand and squeezed towards the back of the bus, ignoring the driver's habitual gaze. The doors closed, and the bus slowly moved forward.

The two squeezed to the back door and saw a pregnant Latina woman holding onto the handrail, looking up at the roof of the car.

The two exchanged a glance and simultaneously gave each other a mischievous smile.

The next second, Karen immediately put on a saintly expression and began to morally blackmail the hooded, bearded white man in the first seat to the left of the back door: "Excuse me, sir!"

She glanced at the bearded man who had raised his eyes, then pointed to the pregnant woman next to her: "Would you mind giving this lady your seat?"

"I don't speak English." The other person rolled their eyes, trying to get away with it easily.

Karen leaned forward slightly, staring into his eyes and saying each word clearly, "Dude, your English is excellent." She then pointed to the pregnant woman, "She's pregnant, and she has trouble walking, so get the hell up and give her your seat!"

"Sorry, I—ah!"

"Get the hell up right now, you coward!"

She reached out and grabbed the bearded man's ear, twisted it upwards forcefully, and shoved him to the side.

The bearded man staggered past Li Ang—Li Ang swiftly reached out and pulled his hand back into his pocket, his smile deepening.

"Come, have a seat, ma'am." Karen smiled at the pregnant Latina woman and pointed to the empty seat.

"Thank you, no need, thank you." The Latina pregnant woman glanced at the passengers in the car who were looking at her with amusement, and refused with a formulaic smile.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Bitch!" Karen immediately lost her temper, and after cursing, she plopped down and took over the seat.

She had barely settled in when she turned and glared at the short-haired Asian woman next to her, yelling, "Fuck you! You get up too!"

The elderly Asian woman turned her head speechlessly, about to speak—

"what!"

Karen grabbed her hair and pulled her forward, causing the old woman to stand up abruptly in pain.

Li Ang took two steps forward and sat down with a thud, his arm naturally draped over Karen's shoulder.

"How...how could you...do this? America...is not like this!" The old woman turned around and said angrily in broken English.

"This is the American spirit! If you think there's a problem, then fucking go back to your Asian homeland! Bitch!" Karen shouted angrily, making a move to get up and slap him.

"You...you...you...madman!" The old woman turned and squeezed towards the front of the car.

"Fuck you! I'll kill you if you say another word! You old bastard! You jerk!" Karen stared at her retreating figure, her face flushed as she cursed angrily.

Li Ang glanced at the passengers on the bus, his tone relaxed yet confident as he played the American value card:

"If we don't bully the weak, how can the democratic United States, with its 48 border states and its free people who grew up eating apple pie and listening to Nirvana, be considered great?"

"Does beating up a strong man make you strong? No!"

"Only by making a baby cry can you be truly powerful!"

"The American spirit! Great!"

Everyone nodded in agreement, even the bearded man whose ear had been twisted—this was the American way of winning.

He thought of John's patriotic act yesterday, his eyes darted around, and he solemnly looked at the people staring at him in the car, and began to sing:

"Oh~ can you see~ through a ray of dawn~"

As soon as the first line of lyrics was sung, everyone instantly switched to a solemn posture, stood up straight, put one hand on their chest, and began to sing along: "What are we facing~ and letting out waves of cheering~"

"Whose broad-skinned star~ greets the dawn of the night~"

The lyrics came together instantly, and even the driver started humming along while gripping the steering wheel.

An elderly Asian woman, huddled by the front door of the car, stared in terror at the crowd singing the national anthem. "Is this the true American spirit? It's fucking terrifying! I want to go home! I want to go back to Asia!"

He tapped Karen's shoulder three times with his fingers, and she immediately stood up, breaking the solemn atmosphere after the national anthem, and yelled at the pregnant Latino, "Get out of here! You stinking foreign beggar from America!"

The pregnant woman shuddered and hurriedly dodged to the side.

The bus doors slammed open simultaneously, and the two people, who had only been on the bus for a few stops, jumped off the bus amidst the admiring gazes of everyone on board.

As soon as the two jumped off, several exhausted and numb passengers who had been so caught up in the patriotic fervor that they dared not move or leave the bus finally breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly squeezed off the bus with anxious expressions.

One of the Mexican women slipped on her short high heels and fell to the ground. A flash of pain crossed her tired and numb face, but then she remembered something terrible and became anxious again. She quickly got up and ran back the way they came, along with the others who also looked tired, numb and anxious.

He glanced at the group running around wildly, took Karen's hand, and casually asked, "Why are you suddenly so agitated, Ms. Smith?"

She glanced at the group, smiled sweetly, and said slowly, "What kind of tough guys can you find taking the bus in Los Angeles? They're all these bankrupt cowards. They're like lambs in a shepherd's pen, even with a gun, they only dare to kneel and beg for mercy."

"This 'bullying the lamb' game isn't exciting at all," he said helplessly, squeezing his little hand.

"But it's fun, isn't it?" She gave a strange laugh.

He thought for a moment, then nodded. "It was really fun." He patted his pocket. "And I even got a little something."

"Let's go find a place to unearth the treasure," she said happily.

He pulled her around, raised his chin, and said, "Let's go to this Verve coffee shop and grab a drink while we're at it."

The two removed their masks, pushed open the glass door, and entered the red brick-style coffee shop, decorated with round pendant lights. Groups of customers sat together, with laptops in front of them, whispering to each other.

They went up to the black woman at the front desk and ordered two black coffees and a donut for $32.

Return to the small round table of the original color to the left of the glass door, pull out a stool of the same color, and sit down.

He pulled the white wallet with the thick beard from his pants pocket, opened it, and was immediately disappointed. He then tossed it to Karen across from him.

There were just a few crumpled bills inside, definitely less than $30, along with a few credit cards and a driver's license.

Karen took the wallet, glanced at it, pulled out the banknotes, and tossed the wallet and ID towards the trash can in the corner opposite the door. She scored the points and muttered under her breath, "I've run into a pauper."

Although the documents and credit cards could still be used to extort money from the victim, the two men, who had been operating in Chicago's South Side for many years, still had some discernment.

If this penniless wretch, barely clinging to life and not yet bankrupt, can squeeze out a hundred dollars of profit, he's practically begging for a piece of God's mercy.

This wallet might just be the last straw that breaks his back and bankrupt him completely.

Black coffee is too bitter, and donuts are too sweet, but a small bite of donut with a sip of black coffee would make even an Eagle Union person give a thumbs up and sincerely praise: a true American!

The two shared a donut in a traditional way, and their black coffee was also just finished.

They stood up together, held hands, and pushed open the door to go out.

As soon as the glass door closed, the Latina waitress who had served the two coffees and donuts immediately ran to the corner trash can, bent down, reached in, took out her wallet, gave the black receptionist a wink, and then slipped into the restroom.

"Mr. Jason?"

"It's me, what's wrong?"

I found your ID on the street.

"Really?! Can you give it back to me?"

"50 dollars."

"Sure! Where are you?"