Zen Lunatic

It was dark and cold outside, past midnight and the streets were empty. If a car passed, then only a police patrol on duty. Inside a little diner four men sat by a table. They were still dressed in linen coats and felt hats, one of them wore a scarf, the others neck-ties. All four of them had black leather gloves on, presumably they had just entered and had not yet warmed up enough from the cold winter night. The smallest of the men was called “Litlle Boy” Franky, this nickname was given to him because of his small body height. At 5’2’feet he had to look up to the others. Then there were Frisco Joe, who controlled San Francisco with illegal drug deals, prostitution and other illicit actvities, Tony the Tank, an ex-boxing champion and brutal killer and last but not least, Johnny “the sledgehammer” Marciatti. Johnny was known in New York for his famed “Head-bashing” of his victims with a sledgehammer. “Ok listen up, we got a serious problem here, I wasn’t gonna be the one who says this, but since you chucks wont start, I might as well say it: It would appear we have a fucking rat amongst us!” said Franky with impossible gestures and movements. Tony looked up and called the waitress who was standing nearby, behind the counter, trying not to overhear their conversation. She slowly walked up and stood before the men. “Get us some coffee will ya’” he said. Tony the Tank was a huge muscular man with a big bushy black beard and teeth as big as a shark’s. When he spoke a faint echo would reside in one’s head, it could give a grown man the chills. Joe took off his hat and itched his head, then gently combed his hair with his hand. He didnt look like a gangster, and surely not a mafia boss. Frisco Joe looked more like a pimp, with his golden watch and chewing on a toothpick. His hat was always tilted to the side and instead of a red neck-tie he chose the color pink instead. Joe spoke: “You heard this Johnny? A rat? Really? You fucking kidding me?” Johnny looked up. “Didnt everything go as planned? I thought everything was ok?” he asked. “Ok? OK? YOU TELLING ME THIS LOOKS FUCKING OK TO YOU?” Franky asked, shouting. He removed his coat and a blood stain was growing bigger from his right shoulder, through the white shirt. “Will ya’ calm down and stop drawing attention, ya’ moron.” said Tony trying to pull up Franky’s coat.
The Waitress brought coffee and poured it into the four cups. Johnny took out his pack of cigarettes and handed it around. “Alright, I was somehow planning that one of us would get shot, it’s been awhile since we really done business around here, what with all our enforcers doing the dirty work. Franky got shot, we’ll take care of it, but a rat? How could that be? Only us four knew about the plan.” Johnny said with his cigarette lit up and drawing heavy smoke. Joe moved his right hand slowly under the table, he rested it on his .38 snub-nosed revolver. With a tremble in his voice he said: “You sayin’ one of us is the rat? I mean come on, how long have we known each other? Big whoop, there were cops, they shot at us, but maybe they were expecting it.” “They fucking knew it was us, they were waiting.” Franky exclaimed, taking heavy draws from his cigarette. “Did we make it out alive or what? Now open your suitcases and lets count the money.” Johhny said in a rather annoyed voice. Franky, Johnny, and Tony each pulled out their suitcase from under the table. Only Joe was still keeping his hand on his revolver and his other near the coffee cup. “So whats holdin ya’ up Frisco? Get ya’ goddamn suitcase so we can slit the cash.” Tony said. “Dont have it.” replied Joe. “Whaddya mean, ya’ dont have it? You fucking lost it? Ya’ telling me that?” Tony asked more aggravated. “Now you calm down, since I had to too. Joe, will you please tell us where you LEFT THE MOTHERFUCKING SUITCASE!?” Franky shouted. The waitress leaped up from her chair near the kitchen and almost dropped a cup of tea, that she was drinking. She quietly got up and went to the cupboard near the counter. Insie she found an old revolver that belonged to her father, the owner of this 24-hour diner. Joe, held out his hand and motioned Franky to sit back down and let him speak. “I dropped it in a warehouse on the way here. I know where it is, just relax.” “Well lets hope for your sake its still there and some punk kid didnt find it.” Johnny said while lifting his cup to his lips. “Miss could you bring us some more coffee please!” He yelled. The waitress, still holding the gun in her hand, put it behind her back and brought the coffee to the table, she refilled all four cups and then turned around with the gun now in front of her.

Meanwhile at a small apartment just a few blocks away two men were conversing complex subjects. It was in a small room, that they sat in and drank green tea. One man was significantly older than the other. The way they talked, could indicate that they were friends and not father and son. “Listen, you simply can not say that karma does not work, as a future boddhisatva you must embrace it all.” said the older man. “Why must I do everything and believe everything? This is not a dogma oriented faith, I want to find true enlightenment, but I simply can not throw away my scientific education or my worldly goods, or sin as you may call it.” The younger man said, sipping his tea. “Its impossible to live without money or a job these days, I want to be enlightened but remain sane and live my normal life, where money does play a role.” he added. “Everything is impossible and nothing is impossible. Everything is nothing, therefore nothing is impossible. Just leave your systemized life behind and start meditating on zen koan’s.” The older said with a convincing tone in his voice. “I do meditate on a zen koan, everyday, I take one hour free time to do it. I dont see the problem, it is my will that will help me, not dropping out of life and living in the mountains.” the younger man said. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. The older man made a hand movement not to light it. “You know that smoking is not allowed in here, you know that, but still you try to smoke, why must you be so provocativ?” he asked. The younger man put the cigarette behind his ear and arose from the floor where they had been sitting and walked to the door. The older man followed. “Just remember you can only find the true zen meaning by percieving time and space. The world does not exist, you dont exist. This is all an illusion, only karma can guide you to a better life with all the future buddha’s.” The younger man turned around and lit his cigarette. He said: “I will find the enlightenment, I will find the true buddha life and I will see you there, we have to modernize this zen buddhism, our western world is to progressive, so we must adapt.” The older man said nothing. Outside the younger man walked a few blocks then jumped over a fence, and walked through an old warehouse, this was his rountine shortcut, but on the way he found a suitcase, it was heavy and upon opening it, he found it had been stacked full with money. It was too much to count. The man let out a yell of excitement, took the suitcase and walked his regular route down the empty streets of New York, where only his footsteps would leave a trail in the deep snow.

Back in the diner the situation was tense. All four men had gripped their gun under the table. “One of us is the rat. We are not leaving this place until that person is dead!” said Franky. “How do we know, who it is, one of us is lying, I aint for sure.” said Tony. “We’ll Im not lying either you big prick!” Franky yelled. Nobody moved, nobody even dared to blink. The waitress was standing behind the counter, she had witnessed it all, her hand was holding the revolver tight, and she was ready to shoot if necessary. Her father had always told her to shoot first then ask questions, especially if the patrons were suspicious looking mafia figures with suitcases full of money and one of them was bleeding, now through his custom tailored suit. A few blocks down, the man with his new found suitcase was walking towards the diner, he wanted to walk past it and see if he could get a cup of coffee before going home as a rich man. Suddenly the subway overhead roared passed him, it was so loud, he couldnt even hear his own voice as he tried to shout against the noise. After it passed he resumed walking. It took him five minutes to reach the diner. As he pulled around the corner, Frisco Joe came through the door, bleeding from the chest. His right hand was clutching his revolver and with shock the man stood still, holding his suitcase and looking Joe directly into the eyes. Joe recognized the suitcase. He lifted his hand and aimed the gun towards the man. Behind Joe, the waitress ran outside, aiming her gun at Frsco Joe. The man with the suitcase turned white.

He thought: “Everything is nothing. The world is nothing, I am nothing.”

At that moment the subway roared passed them.

The End