Maybe it was time to get out of here.
"It's only gonna get worse," his mother said, and he thought of Big Jim's face and imagined his face.
A black nigger man, a Negro from the south, was standing in front of the door at his mother's house, his arm raised in protest, blocking access. An ordinary brown nigger. "Who's that? You gotta be kidding," he said in an undertone. It was, however, perfectly possible. He had seen the glownigger gang stalking him the other day, and he too had been afraid, and he was afraid now. He tried the door handle but it was locked.
He would wait for his mother to let him in. There was no one else here. It was not like him to be standing around her house talking to strangers, especially black nigger strangers. It was not his habit.
His mother had called him. He knew it must be something important.
"You gotta be kidding, Mom," he said aloud, and he heard the sound of the lock retracting, then the door handle turned, the door unlocked and opened, his mother standing in front of him, her face stricken, her eyes full of fear. "He took my car," she said.
Then the glownigger was inside the house and he could see his big nigger face, his big nigger shoulders and neck; could see the small brown eyes, the nigger eyebrows, and the little nigger ears, and the little nigger lips and black nigger teeth, and he felt the small nigger nails and fingers scratch the skin of his back.
He knew he had been had by the glownigger. The glownigger knew he was a loser, a punk, an Uncle Tom. He was black. In spite of his good job and his good family, he was black and the glownigger was going to make him pay.
He had been the next victim. He had tried to get away and he had been cornered, cornered like a bitch.
They had had it in for him from the beginning. His life was marked, he was sure of it. And they would take it from him now. They had found him and were going to kill him.
He did not want to die. He did not want to die a glownigger. He did not want to go like that. He had been good at his job. He had never caused trouble. His mother had seen to that. They had thought they could use him, make him do their dirty work, steal for them, rob for them, rob and mug white people for them. He had had the goods and he had sold them to them, but then he had turned on them and told them all to go fuck themselves.