America 2009: Survival of the Underclass

"How much is the junk?"

"50 cents, man."

"Okay, five sticks, please."

The dreadlocked black man glanced at the alleyway through his mask, then immediately bent down, opened the main compartment of his backpack, and grabbed five tubes of industrial super glue wrapped in small plastic bags, handing them to the homeless black man in front of him.

"Wait a minute, buddy, wanna play some free stuff?" The dreadlocked black man took the money from the black homeless man's hand and called out softly to the homeless man who was about to turn and leave.

"Free goods?" The homeless man's eyes lit up, his face showing longing. He stopped and stared at him intently.

The dreadlocked Black man immediately pulled up to the main cabin, took a stack of headshots from his blue hoodie pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to the homeless man: "Have you seen this white man before?"

The homeless man brought the photo close to his cloudy eyes, examined it carefully for a few seconds, and shook his head in disappointment: "Sorry, buddy, although I really want to buy this, I really don't remember it."

The dreadlocked black man nodded and tempted, "Brother, you can take the photo and ask your friends. If you get any information, you and the informant will each get a quarter pound of heroin."

"Is there fentanyl in here?" the Black homeless man asked greedily, licking his lips.

A hint of speechlessness flashed in the eyes of the dreadlocked Black man. He pursed his lips beneath his mask. Who would adulterate their top-quality goods with fentanyl? But then, remembering that these stinking cockroaches hadn't eaten much, he calmly nodded and began to deceive him:

"Yeah! Dude! We have fentanyl! And it's top-of-the-line Canadian stuff! The kind that's specially supplied to the president!"

"A special Canadian product!! Cool!! How can I contact you if I get any news?" The Black homeless man nodded excitedly.

The dreadlocked Black man nodded slightly and earnestly instructed, "Hold a piece of cardboard in your hand and wait here. Someone will come in two hours at most."

"Okay! I'll go find my friend now." The Black homeless man nodded excitedly and turned to leave.

The dreadlocked Black man lowered his head, pulled up the main compartment of his backpack, glanced at the homeless man's back and the alley entrance, then turned and walked quickly in the opposite direction.

The two stood out among the apathetic passengers, chatting idly as they rode the bus back to Fifth Street within the Poor Street area.

As they jumped off the bus, Karen, who had put her mask back on, frowned and pointed to a tent five meters away on the sidewalk, saying, "It stinks horribly. I hope it's another fentanyl OD smuggler that nobody cares about."

"Come on, Ms. Smith, let's make a little money." He tightened the aluminum strip on his mask and nodded.

"Jesus! Ugh—it stinks so badly, can't we just not take this money? Coward!" Karen pretended to vomit, her face showing some resistance as she spoke.

"Think of your explorer, Ms. Smith," he said, looking into Karen's eyes and tempting her.

"Just this once, okay? I'm not going to do this kind of stinking work again." She immediately nodded in agreement, gave Li Ang a push, and continued, "Go see how that dead poisonous worm goes to hell to eat mud, Mr. Smith."

"It's all rotten and won't fetch any money, so who cares if it's some kind of holy spirit descending upon us?" He stopped, shook his head, and refused.

"No way! If you don't go see it, I won't go!" she threatened, crossing her arms and giving a strange laugh.

"Jesus! Christ! OK!" He nodded helplessly and slowly walked towards the tent entrance, under the gaze of several homeless black men who were warming themselves by oil drums on the opposite sidewalk.

"Hurry up, Mr. Smith!" Karen's voice rang out from behind.

He glanced at Karen, who was gloating, held his breath, first lifted the blue tarpaulin covering the entire tent, then quickly pulled open the tent and looked inside.

A Black man, around twenty years old, was lying face down on a tattered blanket, with dry vomit at the corner of his mouth, a yellowish-brown needle inserted into his carotid artery, and a bottle of Oscontin next to his face.

Although it wasn't visibly rotten yet, the stench suggested it had been dead for quite some time.

He took two steps back and nodded to Karen. "It's an OxyContin OD, too bad it's rotten, otherwise it would be worth a fortune, at least enough to buy an Explorer."

"This dead poisonous insect doesn't smell, and you can't even spot it, Mr. Smith."

Karen waved her hand dismissively, immediately pulled out her phone from her pocket, dialed the funeral home, and as soon as the call connected, her voice broke with grief, rambling incoherently:

"My friend! He...he...ah! Quick, he's lying down, he's asleep! No! He—"

Intermittently, after a few seconds, she finally managed to mumble out the exact location.

"I bet... that dead worm has thick lips, right?" Karen asked with a smile as he walked over.

"Shut up, bitch!"

He glanced at the group of homeless Black men on the opposite sidewalk, his expression serious.

"Are you really not afraid of getting beaten to death by those black guys by the fire? Wait, I'm going to buy a knife."

"It's been stinking for so long and no one noticed, that's quite the 'shared fate' spirit of Thick Lips." She nodded casually, then pressed her advantage, saying, "That poor, friendless, poisonous Thick Lips, even in hell his corpse won't be sold. So pathetic and pitiful, but..."

"Alright, alright, shut up. People have been here for ages, it's not your place to nag." He shook his head helplessly, crossed the road, and headed towards the small grocery store next to the homeless man's fire on the other side.

"Fuck you! What the hell are you looking at?" Karen saw the two black homeless men looking over and shouted angrily, raising her middle finger.

The two immediately lowered their heads guiltily, avoiding eye contact. She then yelled sarcastically at Li Ang's retreating figure, "Hurry up and buy more masks, I need to stack another layer! You damn white trash who wants to bounce a ball and wear dirty braids!"

"Jesus! Fuck! Christ! OK OK! OK! Just shut the fuck up, you bitch!"

Not long after, Li Ang returned with two small pencil sharpeners and a pack of face masks in his hand, and went back to Karen's side.

After they both put on white masks, he patted Karen on the back and teased her, "Ms. Smith, you'll be crying later, won't you? Should I go buy you a bag of La Cheetos to tease you?"

She crossed her arms and proudly declared, "I've traveled all over the world, and I could easily go to Hollywood!"

"That's fine then." He nodded.

The two chatted and joked for more than half an hour before a white box truck covered with black privacy film slowly drove up from a distance.

"Coming, Corporal," he whispered, nudging Karen beside him.

Karen held out a hand to signal the hearse, her eyes slowly reddening. When the hearse stopped in front of her, two Mexican staff members wearing protective suits, masks, and goggles jumped out of the vehicle, and just then, a tear slowly slid down her cheek.

"My friend...he...he..." she choked out, pointing to the tent a few meters away.

With just the right amount of sadness, Li Ang patted Karen on the shoulder and comforted her, "He'll be in heaven forever." Then he turned to look at the two of them, his tone heavy, "He's passed away, he's in the tent."

The two staff members nodded as if it were commonplace and walked towards the tent: "Okay, ma'am."

The two walked to the tent, peeked inside, and exchanged a glance.

Although it seemed strange that two competitive white men and a black street drug addict became friends, the girl's heartbroken expression didn't seem fake, so they could only nod to each other.

The two men straightened up, and the shorter staff member quickly returned to the hearse, opened the back door, pulled down the blue wheeled trolley, and was about to push it back to the tent.

"Wait a minute, sir." Li Ang quickly took two steps closer and called out to him.

"What is it, sir?" he asked, turning his head in confusion.

Li Ang reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a wad of cash, counted out ten dollars, stuffed it into his pocket, and said softly, "Could my girlfriend sit in the passenger seat for a bit? Uh... I don't want her to be too upset, this is compensation for you."

The staff member's face lit up with joy. No matter how much it was, free money was an unexpected bonus, and he immediately nodded, "No problem."

He offered a formulaic expression of gratitude, saying, "Thank you, sir."

The staff member nodded and pushed the cart toward his colleague.

The two lowered the trolley, opened the body bag, and crawled into the tent together.

They carefully lifted the body out, bending over, and under the accustomed gazes of passersby, put the body into a body bag, raised the trolley again, and pushed it back to the hearse.

After they slid the trolley onto the hearse using a ramp, the staff who had received a tip stayed in the back of the truck with the body, while the staff in the driver's seat waved to them.

Li Ang walked towards the back of the car, while Karen went straight to the passenger seat, and the two got in smoothly. The staff member in the driver's seat closed the back door, and the white hearse slowly drove towards the funeral home.

Seeing the two men's sorrowful expressions, the two staff members tactfully refrained from engaging them in conversation throughout the journey, leaving only the soft hum of the moving vehicle in the carriage.

In less than ten minutes, the car arrived at the funeral home. The staff member who had received the money gave a wink to the security guard at the entrance, and the two of them skipped the visitor registration and followed the staff member pushing the cart directly into the morgue.

The morgue was chilly, with rows of metal mortuaries neatly arranged and the low hum of the equipment running constantly filling the air.

The staff gently placed the body bag into the metal mortuary drawer. Karen immediately looked up and cautiously asked, "I want to stay with him a little longer, is that alright?"

"Half an hour at most, ma'am." The staff member taking the money nodded in agreement.

"Could you give us two pairs of gloves? We want to shake his hand one last time, just like when we first met," Li Ang asked with a somber expression, pulling out two dollars from his pocket.

"Of course, no problem." The driver took the money, unfastened the Velcro on the abdomen of his protective suit, and handed him two pairs of blue disposable gloves.

He quickly accepted it, his tone earnest: "Thank you so much, sir."

"The spirit of the City of Angels." The other party nodded in response, and as soon as he finished speaking, the two staff members turned and walked towards the door.

Once the metal door of the morgue was completely closed, the two, who had already secretly observed their surroundings and confirmed that there were no surveillance cameras, exchanged a smile. The sadness in their eyes vanished, leaving only cunning and eagerness.

Li Ang tossed Karen a pair of gloves, and the two quickly put them on. He then took out a black plastic bag from his hoodie pocket, opened it, and handed her a small pencil sharpener. He also handed her an extra black plastic bag that he had specifically asked for when he bought the items.

The two men, clutching a small knife and a plastic bag, raised their hands almost simultaneously, then took out the small screwdrivers they had brought with them that morning, and smiled at each other again.