The Loser

Joe Fitzbickel

He is a loser. At least it seems that way, the way life is treating him. Joe Fitzbickel grew up poor on Chicago’s South side. His alcoholic father punched his ticket in a botched robbery while Gang Banging when Joe was 10 years old. Joe’s Mother did what she could at the local diner to keep the lights on in their very modest two-bedroom apartment. Times were tough in the 80s, the economy was crap, no jobs, especially for the uneducated poor. They struggled and it took its toll on Joe’s Mother. She became unwell and passed by the time Joe was 16. He made a deathbed promise to her he would never join a Gang like his father did. Joe would keep this promise.

Joe bounced around from one terrible job to another. Most of the jobs were the type that a grade ten education would get you. Usually, it was sweeping floors or washing dishes at a few of the five and dimes in the hood just to scrape up enough cash to survive. He eventually landed a Janitorial position at one of the local high schools. Not just any school, it was Carl Johnson High, one of the roughest high schools in all of Chicago. He was 37 and it paid enough to keep the lights on in his very modest one-bedroom apartment.

Life isn’t easy for Joe. He inherited some of his father’s unpleasant traits. Alcoholism being the worst and the belligerency that often goes with it. His belligerency is often on full display at the local pub that he frequents. As a result, he quite often does not exit the building through the door that he enters, but is escorted to the rear and out to the dark alley. His early struggles in life and the constant teasing and tormenting from the Gang members at Carl Johnson High coupled with alcoholism all contribute to his behavioral problems when he has a few too many.

But Joe is not as he seems. To look at him, you would think he just crawled out from under a cardboard box, grabbed the A-Train in the same clothes he was wearing last month and heads off to work. He's the perfect target for ridicule from the patrons at the pub to the Gangs at the school. On the inside, Joe is hurting. He is a loving, caring and compassionate human being (traits he inherited from his Mother). It’s just that life had somehow kicked him in the head at a young age and he never really recovered. He is just existing.

The Alley

A man is running for his life down a long, dark alley, on a cold, wet Chicago evening. He’s carrying something; a small duffel bag. He’s in obvious distress and knows whoever is chasing him is going to inevitably catch him. In desperation, he abandons the bag. He tucks it underneath a dumpster in the alley and haphazardly hides it, hoping it will go undetected. If he somehow manages to escape his pursuers, he’ll circle back for it later.

Two men enter the alley behind him and one man enters the alley from the other end, he’s trapped. It’s game over. They grab him. A van pulls up and he’s tossed inside. The van speeds away. Looks like a Mafia take-down. The Gangs aren’t the only ones who control the hood, the Mafia are big players here as well. The police don’t come around here much. They’re either scared or complicit. The locals keep their heads down, mouths shut and they pay. Or else.

Julio Sanchez

As a Custodian at Carl Johnson High there isn’t too much going on that Joe doesn’t see or know about. He ignores the constant heckles and harassment hurled at him on a daily basis from some of the Gangs’ most notorious. He keeps to himself, does the job and generally gets to go home in one piece. Most things don’t bother him much, but when he sees Gangs constantly recruiting it’s hard to turn a blind eye. Especially when they set their sights on someone special. A particular student. A Senior named Julio Sanchez. Julio had caught Joe’s eye and ear on a number of occasions. Word had it Julio’s father was a victim of a Mob hit gone wrong. Wrong place, wrong time. A tragedy they say. Julio, not unlike Joe, was raised by his Mother who also struggled daily to keep their heads above water. At the end of the day there isn’t enough money left to even dream of one day having an easier life. Julio had miraculously avoided the Gangs and was a brilliant student. In his spare time, you could often find him in the music room playing his favorite instrument, the Cello. Over the years, Joe and Julio had a few conversations during breaks and lunch hours. Julio was kind to Joe and Joe saw something in this kid that was special. It wasn’t lost on Joe the things they had in common. He deserved a better life than the one he was likely to get. In this part of the hood, and in his current home situation, unfortunately, Julio’s future was all but set. He would likely be forced to follow in similar footsteps to Joe’s through no fault of his own. He didn’t have a shot. Being poor would likely lead him on a path of learning to exist. Unfortunately, this was life in the hood for countless kids.

The Alley Part Two

Most weekends if you’re looking for Joe Fitzbickel, he can be found at the local pub. Tonight wasn’t much different than any other night. Joe was about halfway down his second bottle of scotch. He was feeling sorry for himself and hated his life. The scotch took the edge off and made it easier for him to exist. Fellow patrons knew him to see him but had no idea what had led Joe to become this drunken, disheveled and belligerent person whom they only knew from him frequenting the bar. They had no idea how much it hurt him when they teased and harassed him. When he lashed back at them, it was often Joe who would be targeted as the aggressor and shown the door. Typical day in the life of loser Joe. On one particular night it played out typically. Joe was harassed by some local punks and when he lashed back, it was he who was shown the door by the bouncers. They bounced him out the rear door into the alley and said “sleep it off Joe” and threw him on the ground to the rain-soaked pavement next to a dumpster. The door slammed shut behind him and there was silence. As he was about to push himself to his feet, he noticed something under the dumpster. It looked like a small duffel bag. He reached under, pulled it out and unzipped it. To his astonishment it looked full of money. He looked around to make sure nobody was watching, zipped it back up, got up and headed for home.

Jackpot

Joe Fitzbickel hadn’t really caught too many breaks in his 37 years on this Earth, but this felt different to him. He enters his one-room dingy apartment, turns on a light and places the bag on the table. He’s almost afraid to open it for fear of what he saw in the alley, with his luck, might’ve only been a drunken hallucination. He unzipped the bag and to his surprise it was full of money! Lots of it! To the tune of $20,000.00! Also, at the bottom of the bag was a little black book. Curious. He opened the book to find a list of names to which quite a few were familiar. Prominent people like Politicians, the Mayor, Business people and the like. He also recognized one name in particular. Tommy ‘The Blade’ Carpenter, a known Mob associate. Oh no, this is Mob money he thought. He also thought there’s no way they could know he had it. Nobody saw him in that alley. He decided life had finally thrown him a bone! He would keep the money. But the book? The book was dangerous to keep. He could discard it. Or, better yet, return it to the Mob and maybe they’ll give him a reward! For the next couple of weeks Joe dreamt of how much reward money he was going to get and what he would do with it. Maybe this is the end of loser Joe he thought. Dare to dream!

Loser Joe

Joe knew where the Mob hung out. Everybody did. He never dreamt he’d be allowed a meeting with the Big Boss. When he told them he’d found a book in a back alley, they were happy to meet with him. This is my lucky day he figured. He entered the Mafia Boss’s office through a door which was big and heavy. Oak maybe? He thought the door itself had to be worth a few thousand dollars, which was more than he made in a few months work. The Boss sat at his desk with six men in various positions around the room. They were packing and the room was fortified. The Boss was Don Laurent from Sicily. He was a big, menacing -looking man. Somebody whom most wouldn’t mess with. But this was Joe’s ‘lucky day’ he kept telling himself. They’re happy to see me! He showed Don Laurent the little Black Book that he found in the alley. The Boss looked at the book suspiciously, thanked him and asked him where the bag with the money was? Joe said there was no bag. Only this little Black Book and, was there a reward? When the crooked smiles disappeared from their faces, Joe knew this wasn't a good sign. When that big Oak door locked behind him, he knew it was over. Joe Fitzbickel’s sad existence would come to an end that day. There would be no reward of life-changing money for loser Joe. His dreams would not come true this day. Just a peace that only death can bring to a life that didn’t stand a chance.

Julio

Julio Sanchez went to school as usual the next day. Word had already spread about the demise of Janitor Joe Fitzbickel. Many people were shocked, most couldn’t care less, it was good gossip for the day. Julio was devastated. Joe was the one guy who was in his corner and understood his need to get out of the hood. He would miss their conversations and despite their age difference, he considered Joe a friend. Life goes on, right? He opened his locker that day and inside was a small duffel bag and a note from Joe. The note said “Julio, take this money, stay quiet and do something with your life. You are a brilliant kid who didn’t have the means to take a shot. Now you do, so go take your shot! Your friend, Joe.” Julio wept. He was the only one who wept for Joe Fitzbickel.

Seven Years Later

Two elderly ladies enter the local pharmacy in fiery conversation. Joyce says to Dorothy “I don’t know why you dragged me in here today, I don’t get paid for a week”. Dorothy says “I’ve heard the new Pharmacist is a kind, understanding young man. Maybe he’ll let you pay next week.”

The ladies approach the counter, explain this to the woman behind and the woman says, “we don’t give prescriptions out on credit here”. The ladies look dejected and turned to leave. Just then a man in a white lab coat turns around and says “next week will be perfectly fine ma’am”. He had a beautiful, gentle smile and on his coat the tag read ‘Pharmacist-Julio Sanchez’.

Joe Fitzbickel was a loser. At least it seemed that way.

The End