The Mean Man

Judging a person does not define who they are. It defines who you are.

-Wayne Dyer

The Mean Man: a short story

Johnny and his friends play at the same playground every day after school. Marcus, Stanley, and Johnny never miss a day. All of their moms pick up the fourth-graders after school, and every day they take their sons to the same playground.

The playground has a full play-set: monkey bars, a slide, a climbing wall, a hangout place, and most importantly it has a bench on the outskirts that is wide enough for the three moms to sit down and gossip about whatever comes to their mind that day.

Each day, at the same exact time of the day, the Mean Man passes by.

“Johnny!” Johnny’s mom hollers every time. “Get over here. Now.”

The other moms follow suit and yell to their boys to come over to the bench. None of the moms trust the Mean Man when he passes by. His furrowed brows and his constant clenched jaw keeps the moms uneasy. He has never spoken a word to them, but they know he has nothing nice to say. Every time he passes the moms gather their boys and hold them tightly as the Mean Man passes.

“Why is he always mad?” Johnny asks his mom.

“Some people are just like that, sweetheart. Please, stay away from him. If he ever approaches you, you yell until someone hears. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The Mean Man, his real name Dennis White, hears the conversation as he passes by. He scowls while still not looking their way, saying no words, as he always does. He walks past the playground, looks both ways as he crosses the road, marches through a field, and is out of sight as he enters a line of trees on his left.

He does this every day.

Dennis has long auburn hair that nearly touches the bottom of his back. Most days he keeps it in a tight ponytail. He’s rarely ever seen in anything other than sweat shorts and a baggy t-shirt—disapproving to the moms in every way.

The moms especially can’t get over how his dark red hair sways nearly to his butt. “If Johnny ever had hair like that, I would cut it off in his sleep,” Johnny's mom would say. The other moms would laugh hysterically in their high pitched voices.

The next day was no different. The boys were playing on the play-set, minding their own business until they heard the raised voices of their mothers.

“Johnny!”

“Marcus!”

“Stanley!”

They knew what that meant. The Mean Man was en route, which meant the boys must go to their mothers. They always listened, never disobeying their mothers.

The Mean Man walked by like he always did, not regarding the boys or their moms as he quickly shot past them. He walks past the playground, looks both ways as he crosses the road, marches through a field, and is out of sight as he enters a line of trees on his left—like he does every day.

Johnny’s nose wrinkled with confusion. “Mom, where does he go every single day?”

“God only knows, sweetheart. He may be homeless. Even a better reason to stay away. We don’t want you catching any diseases,” his mom said.

“I bet he’s digging for food in the trash!” Stanley’s mom chimed in, and all the moms burst out into tears laughing.

Once the man was out of sight, the boys went back to the playground to have more fun.

The next day was no different. The boys were playing on the play-set, minding their own business until they heard the raised voices of their mothers.

“Marcus!”

“Stanley!”

However, at this specific moment, Johnny’s mother couldn’t hold her bladder. She had to race to the local church to use their facilities. Johnny never heard his name called by his mom. He watched his friends jog to the far side of the playground where their mothers coddled them, but Johnny’s mother was nowhere in sight. He held his ground at the top of the slide on the play-set.

Moments later, the Mean Man hurriedly sped past the moms, head down saying no words, on his way to his normal destination. He walks past the playground, looks both ways as he crosses the road, marches through a field, and is out of sight as he enters a line of trees on his left—like he does every day.

With no word from his mother, Johnny took a peek at the other moms all the way on the far side of the playground, and took off across the street before anyone could see him. He kept his distance from the Mean Man. Who knew what he was capable of doing? If he really was so sinister and vile as his mother always said, he needed to be far enough away to escape from him.

Johnny looks both ways as he crosses the road, he marches through a field, and is out of sight from all the mothers as he enters a line of trees on his left—like the Mean Man does every day.

As he enters the trees, there is a vast plain of open fields—beautiful fields. The fields have flowers all over them and are landscaped exquisitely so every blade of grass is cut the exact same length. The trees are all trimmed so that no limb hangs down. The soil under the trees is shaded a jet black with bright pink and orange geraniums flawlessly planted in a rhythmic way. Johnny sees large rocks row by row throughout the fields, with even more flowers lying on top of each individual rock.

He sees people, more than he expected—no homeless people or individuals searching through any trash. Most stand by a rock, some sit beside a rock. Some cry, some laugh, some just sit in silence. He scans over the large field until he sees the Mean Man, sitting beside two rocks that have an abundance of fresh flowers piled on top of them.

Johnny waits for the Mean Man to leave.

One hour…

Two hours…

Three hours…

Four hours…

Five hours later, the Mean Man slowly comes to his feet, wiping his face from streaks of tears that have steadily run down his cheeks for the past hours. He kisses each rock warmly and lightly, and then turns to leave. Johnny prances behind the trees to stay hidden, so the Mean Man can’t see him. He takes a peak from behind the tree, and the Mean Man makes eye contact with him.

Oh no, Johnny thinks. I’m screwed.

But the Mean Man walks right past him and takes back off in the direction of the playground.

Johnny, being nosy and curious all in one, goes to the two big rocks where the Mean Man was sitting all this time. He approaches the two big rocks that have flowers assembled up on top of them. He reads:

MARJORIE WHITE

BELOVED WIFE, MOTHER, & DAUGHTER

1985-2020

Johnny pans his head right and reads the next one:

CHARLOTTE WHITE

BELOVED DAUGHTER

2018-2020

Johnny was only in the fourth grade, but he understood. He headed back to the playground. It was dark now, and no one was at the playground anymore. He lived only a few minutes from there, and he knew the way home.

When he made it home, he was greeted with police officers and his mother who was bawling hysterically. “Johnny!” she wept. “Where have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick!” Tears streamed down her face as she grabbed him tight and curled him in her arms.

“I’m fine, Mom. I got lost going to the bathroom. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The next day was no different. It took some convincing, but Johnny persuaded his mom to let him go to the playground the next day, and his mom allowed him to go after she vowed to never take her eyes off of him again.

“Johnny!”

“Marcus!”

“Stanley!”

The boys knew what that meant. Marcus and Stanley hustled to their moms to wait for the Mean Man to pass. Johnny took his time off the play-set. He strolled to his mother, but not in a reasonable fashion.

“Johnny, get over here! Now!” he heard his mom shout.

“Coming,” he said, but he started walking even slower.

The Mean Man was twenty feet from him…fifteen…ten…five…then the Mean Man walked by like he always did, not regarding the boys or their moms as he quickly shot past them.

Ashamed from his cowardice behavior for not speaking up, not saying one little word, Johnny put his head down and continued to his mother.

“Hey kid,” Johnny heard, and he spun his head around so quickly he could’ve given himself whiplash. “Don't go wandering off anymore. You’ll give your mother a heart attack.”

Johnny could feel his lips curving up. “I won’t, Mr. White.”

And the Mean Man grinned.