America 2009: Survival of the Underclass

"This young black guy is pretty pitiful. He's so young and already involved in gangs and getting shot. He must have been shot thirty or forty times, tsk tsk tsk~ But..." He paused, reached into his sweatpants pocket, and rummaged around for a moment, "It's not that disgusting. The staff had already emptied him out."

He took out a small gold ring, held it on his finger, and waved it at Karen, who had turned her head.

"Cool! What thick lips!" She nodded, then continued to struggle with the screwdriver and gold tooth. "How about some tattoo leather, sir?"

"Forget it, Corporal. The risk is too high and the reward is too low. The buying gang won't double-cross us, but if the gang that got the skin finds out, they'll probably want to shoot us a million times." He pulled up the body bag and pushed the metal morgue back in.

"Then why did you buy a knife? Fine, a piece of tattoo skin isn't worth much anyway." She lowered her head, nodded, and muttered through gritted teeth, "Jesus! That damn Latino, where the hell did he get his teeth fixed? They're so tight."

"It's always useful, isn't it? You don't necessarily have to cut your skin. A pocket stuck together with blood, fingers swollen from blisters—you can always use a knife without getting your hands dirty, right?"

"That makes sense, Mr. Smith."

"Ms. Smith, he's already been sent down by the Holy Spirit, you don't need to be so gentle, just fucking stab him."

"Jesus! Christ! You're stabbing me with this little screwdriver? I don't want to touch a dead Latin, no, not even a living Latin."

"I'm afraid he'll stick out his tongue and lick my hand, even though that's impossible."

"But I don't want to reward him, even if he's already in hell eating mud."

"Mr. Smith, you don't know, Latins are the most fucking terrifying people. They'll even kill a lizard."

"That's an Indian, Ms. Smith."

"They're clearly Latinos, okay!"

"OK! OK! You're right, they're Latinos!"

"But Ms. Smith, you've forgotten one thing: how do you get the thing if you don't want to touch him?"

"Uh... just this once, consider it a reward for this stinky out-of-towner."

"Haha~ You women are so fickle."

"Fuck you! Stop teasing me, get back to work, you coward."

"Okay, now you're Commander Smith, and I'm Corporal Smith, is that alright?"

"OK! Now I am—finally fucking stab—someone's here, Corporal Smith." Her ears twitched, her hand quickly picked out her gold tooth, pulled up the body bag, pushed the body drawer back, and turned to say.

"Roger that, Commander Smith."

He nodded, and then pushed back the half-pulled-back drawer containing the corpse.

The two men quickly walked to the body drawer of the homeless black man from OD, pulled it out, and stuffed everything they were holding into the gap between the drawer and the body bag.

The two hid their belongings, unpacked the body bag, and looked down at the corpse of the dead poisonous insect with formulaic sorrow on their faces.

Almost the next second, the morgue doors slid open to both sides, and two staff members slowly pushed a trolley over.

Seeing the two heartbroken men, they habitually opened the empty drawer containing the body, tossed the body bag up, pushed it aside, and then drove away in their cart.

Once the door closed, the two exchanged a smile, retrieved their belongings, and left the drawer containing the dead poisonous insects open, spreading out to both sides.

"Can you guess if this has been scraped?" he asked, pointing to the mortuary that the staff had just pushed in.

"That depends on whether the Holy Spirit descended in the right place or not," she said, pulling open the mortuary drawer and turning to reply with a smile.

"I hope you die in a public place, so you can do some charity work for us poor people and go to heaven to enjoy yourself." He pulled out the body drawer and joked, holding the zipper of the body bag in his hand.

"I hope you're a kind person who's only been here a short time and is destined for heaven," Karen said hopefully, clutching her zipper as well.

"Jesus! You might as well go to hell and eat mud. It's 2009 already. Why did you have to jump off a building? You disgusting person, mother fucker!" Karen grabbed the body bag and cursed angrily as she frowned.

"Cool! Hurry up and push it back, come and see this precious treasure." He smiled, waved, and called out softly.

"Okay, right away."

Karen pushed the sump back, quickly walked to his side, looked down, and exclaimed in surprise, "Jesus~ She's really beautiful, and really rich. What could possibly make her want to commit suicide?"

Inside the body bag, a beautiful white woman with dark brown hair, dressed in a dress covered in rhinestones and wearing full makeup, lay peacefully asleep, a little bit of white powder on her nose.

"Maybe she's just having a drug overdose?" He shook his head with a smile and replied casually.

"Don't be ridiculous, Leon," she retorted confidently, pointing to the powder under her nose. "This isn't some rich guy's plant-based drug; who the hell knows what kind of fentanyl-laced street thug is involved in. Do you think someone like her, a member of the Skyhawks, would stoop to this level?"

"Well, Ms. Smith, I didn't look closely enough." He took a closer look and noticed that the white powder on the tip of his nose had specks of mottled yellow. He immediately apologized.

After all, the sons of wealthy and powerful families in Europe and America would never touch such chemically synthesized products unless they were forced to drink them at gunpoint—they would see it as a complete class failure, just like the drugs that the lower classes use.

Not to mention the lowest quality fentanyl mixed with all sorts of weird stuff that these street drug dealers make!

"Corporal Smith, it seems you've wasted your time in the gang; you can't even tell the difference between good and bad." She nodded in satisfaction and teased.

He awkwardly reached out and pried open the woman's eyelids, glanced at her blue pupils, picked up the jeweled necklace around her neck, adorned with a large, color-changing sapphire, and turned to Karen, saying:

"What a pity, it seems our last glimmer of hope has been shattered, Blue-eyed Eagleman, Commander Smith."

Karen nodded knowingly and said softly, "Corporal Smith, I was prepared. Unzip it all the way up and see if there's anything else good. Let's have a good time."

"OK, sir!" He nodded in response and pulled the zipper down from his abdomen to his feet.

Her eyes lit up, she grabbed the beautiful woman's right hand and shook it, saying happily to him, "This thing could buy several communities, he's fucking rich, that damn Skyhawk bitch."

Li Ang smiled behind his mask and nodded.

The woman wore two obviously expensive wedding rings and diamond rings on her middle and index fingers, but the real highlight was the Jacob & Co. Billionaire Watch on her wrist, which was set with emerald-cut diamonds and was extremely luxurious.

"Jesus, Christ, it's so beautiful. I never thought I'd actually touch such a multi-million dollar luxury item in my lifetime." Karen stroked the watch face with a satisfied expression.

"Let me touch it too, and see just how good the watch feels, Mr. Smith." He reached out and gently stroked the watch face on the woman's wrist.

"If we could... never mind, Jesus~ what a pipe dream! I'd be laughing in my sleep if I could wear a watch that costs ten thousand dollars." She stroked the watch face and said in a daze.

"Perhaps, Ms. Smith," he said softly, stroking the emerald wedding ring on his middle finger.

"A ten-thousand-year sentence? Mr. Smith," she chuckled, teasingly.

"It could also be an injection," he said, a smile playing on his lips as he looked into Karen's eyes.

"Haha, look, she definitely committed suicide, and most likely she bought the drugs on the street and took them on the spot." After laughing, she pointed to the filth that spread from her buttocks and waist to her back and said with certainty.

"Haha, Jesus~ I hope that vendor doesn't get caught, or he'll be chopped into mincemeat and thrown into the Atlantic Ocean to feed the fish." He chuckled and joked.

She smiled and nodded. "Indeed, rich, dark brown hair, blue eyes, beautiful, and white. If she were still alive, she would tell me—"

She paused, then adopted a haughty demeanor, looking at him with the eyes of someone looking at a monkey, and said in a tone that was sometimes fast and sometimes slow, "You shouldn't be here."

"I am an American, this is my country, why can't I be here?" Li Ang said with a playful expression.

She looked surprised and asked incredulously, "What did you just say? Could you please say it again?"

"I am American, this is my country, is there a problem?" he responded with feigned confusion.

She put on her usual airs again, looking at Li Ang, but as if she wasn't looking at him at all, as if he didn't exist, and slowly said, "Back then, my ancestors followed the Great Ancestor across the ocean from the British Empire to enter the North American continent. They skinned monkeys to make boots, established themselves on the East Coast, participated in the War of Independence, founded a country, went to Africa to capture thick lips, developed the country, and then participated in the Civil War for the country, defeating the southern bumpkins."

With a playful glint in her eye, she asked in a relaxed tone, "Your country? What were your ancestors doing when my ancestors were doing all this? You wouldn't happen to be one of those white trash trying to steal our achievements, would you?"

"Yeah, I'm the trash who came later to steal your things, and I'm going to shit on your heads." He revealed a clear, stupid, and uneducated expression.

"Pfft, hahaha." Ding Zhen's expression immediately broke her defenses. Luckily, she was wearing a mask, otherwise she would have sprayed Li Ang's face with spit.

"Coward, what kind of look was that just now? It was hilarious." She suppressed her laughter and asked curiously.

"I can't explain it either. Let's go. If we get bumped into by the ancestors of these blue-eyed eagle people, we'll probably be chopped into mincemeat and smeared all over the street first." He shook his head, reached out and pinched the zipper pull, and said to Karen.

Reluctant to let go, she glanced at the ornate dial, nodded, and he zipped up the body bag and pushed it back into the drawer.

Having thoroughly indulged in their lavish spending, the two hurried back to the body bag, packed their spoils into one plastic bag and their tools into another, zipped up the body bag, and tossed their gloves onto it.

They pushed the morgue drawer aside, put the plastic bag away, smiled at each other, held hands, and walked out of the morgue.

At the entrance of the funeral home, a dozen or so white men carrying fully equipped HK416 pistols and wearing tactical leashes surrounded a grief-stricken, dark brown-haired white couple, passing by them.

"That's exciting, Mr. Smith."

"Yes, I'm about to pee myself, Ms. Smith."

"Me too."

"Hahaha."