Headlights are a Wonderful Invention

         It was all very sad, because he was a very good poet.  He was a romantic poet, both a disciple of Byron and Shelly and a lover of women.  He pulled them in with his flowery descriptions of sultry, attractive things.  Roses.  Sunsets.  Typical poetry things.  He used to read his poetry in coffee shops to a backdrop of whispers and clinking Columbian caffeine-solution mugs.
         The music would play in the background like a laugh-track, its volume lowered so that his voice could be heard well.
         Everybody thought that he was a literary sensation.  And he was, of course.  He was very good at making things rhyme.  He had read his Shakespeare and his Bhagavad-Gita.  He was fond of turtle-necks.
         Of course, he was not employed as a poet.  Poets, as a rule, make very little money.  It could be argued that most poets actually make minimum wage.  This is because most poets are either professionally unskilled, and thus are forced to seek employment at unskilled jobs, or teenaged.  This poet was neither professionally unskilled or a teenager. 
         He was, in fact, a sales representative at an electronics store.  He worked on commission and was very adept at convincing people to make financially imprudent decisions.  If he lived in a fair society, that sort of behavior would be illegal.  Unfortunately, his society encouraged him to cheat little old ladies out of portions of their retirement funds.  This is because his employers were very greedy, and because high-definition televisions were very desirable.
         And, as it turns out, life isn't fair.
         But, for the poet-salesman, life seemed to be more than fair.  The tables were all rigged and he was enjoying his winnings.
         The poet was born to a married couple.  His parents were a man and woman employed respectively as an inventor and a lawyer.  The inventor patented the LCD screen.  He was highly intelligent.  His mother spent much of her time defending her husband's patents.  It was really in her best interest, because her husband's invention was very profitable.  Other inventors may have complained that they had to pay large sums of money for lawyers.  They were not as exceptionally fortunate as the inventor. 
         This is because life isn't fair.
         The very fortunate couple had a very fortunate son.  He was good-looking and well liked.  He was very good at sports and was the smartest student in his class of 283.  His IQ was approximately half that of his class size.  As a child, he was evaluated as having an IQ of 141.  Some would consider this IQ to be that of a "near genius."
         He was given everything a highly intelligent son-of-an-inventor could ask for and a few superfluous items.  He was very popular.  He attended a very reputable university and graduated near the top of his class, with a degree in business.  He was to manage his father's very-profitable LCD Empire.
         And then, as he was driving home from his graduation, he collided with a moose.  Such are the consequences of attending a college in a wooded region, even if it is considered to be very reputable.
         The very fortunate son suffered a moderately debilitating cranial impact.  His IQ dropped 40 points; it was measured after recovery to be 102.  This is regarded among psychologists to be "average". 

         The son was deeply upset.  Having his intellect dissolve to normalcy created very strong emotions.  Anger and regret were the most notable.  He began to dislike antlered quadrupeds intensely.  The man of intellect became a man of emotion.  He was drawn to poetry because it made him cry.  And it made him appear intelligent.
         The unfortunate son spent much of his time reading romantic poetry, convinced that it would restore his cognitive abilities.  It may have worked a little.  He primarily became very adept at imitating romantic poetry.
         The son had very little interest in applying his business degree in the field of LCD screen marketing.  His father, with all of his inventor-clout, secured him a sales job - one that required very little effort; one that would allow plenty of time for the public reading of poetry.
         And that is how the fortunate son became the poet.  And very recently, the poet began to enjoy his life again.  Women enjoyed his poetry so greatly that they slept with him.  He was still attractive.
         Life was not fair.  But the poet enjoyed whatever justice that he could salvage.

--

         Life was especially unfair for a very solemn man working in a coffee shop.  His name was Ruiz.  He had traveled from a foreign country because they did not pay him anything for any of his work.  He was very angry about this, but he was unable to devise many solutions.  His IQ, if it were to be measured, would be 92.  This is considered by those who concern themselves with IQ's to be "below average."
         Of the solutions available in his country, leaving seemed the least dangerous.  He could have joined with some friends to fight for the territory to sell dangerous psychotropic chemicals to very unfortunate people.  Leaving seemed to be the solution that Jesus would have preferred.  Ruiz happened to be very fond of Jesus.
         In America, the country that Ruiz decided to immigrate to, he found a beautiful woman.  She worked in a laundromat.  She happened to speak the language that he spoke.  When Ruiz and his beautiful woman spoke in public, people tended to act indignant.  These people owned businesses and cars.  Ruiz and his beautiful woman, Marta, owned neither.
         Ruiz and Marta could not be officially married; this because they were not officially citizens.  Both of them had snuck into the country without the notice of the government.  This practice disturbed many of the car-and-business owners.  They suspected Ruiz and Marta to be incurable syphilitics or cocaine traffickers.  Ruiz and Marta happened to be neither.  They couldn't be married because they would have to obtain a marriage license.  This could draw the government into their affairs.  Marta and Ruiz would be sent back home to work for very little money.
         Marta happened to be pregnant with a child.  His name was Jesus.  The name was Ruiz's idea; he wanted his child to be very similar to the man he worshipped.
         Marta visited the coffee shop where her husband worked sometimes.  She didn't have very much coffee.  This is because caffeine is known to be a teratogen when taken in large quantities.  Teratogens are substances that are known to damage children in the prenatal stages.  Marta wanted the best for Jesus.
         However, when Marta visited, she often took notice of a reasonably attractive young man reading poetry.  She enjoyed the poetry, although she did not understand all of it.  This is because she did not speak English very well.  She did, however, have an IQ of 125.  People with this IQ are considered to be "gifted."  Her IQ was never tested because she had never attended school.  Where she came from, compulsory education was not enforced, and especially not for women.
         Marta may have been angry about her maltreatment.  Ruiz did not know this because Ruiz didn't allow her to complain.  She was not disposed towards complaint anyway.  She knew that life was not fair.
         Marta was very fond of the poet.  She sometimes spoke to him when she was sure that Ruiz would not overhear.  Ruiz happened to be a very jealous man.  He owned a gun.
         The young poet had been very kind to Marta.  He wanted to sleep with her.  She wanted to sleep with him.  They slept together frequently.  They ceased their fornication when Marta became pregnant.  They still spoke intermittently and in a surreptitious manner.  Ruiz was suspicious, but he was too often employed, for minimum wage, as a dishwasher.  He wanted to investigate the dubious dealings of the poet and his almost-wife, but he wanted Jesus to be well fed when he was born.
         Marta was very pregnant.  She knew a midwife who would deliver the child without the consent and knowledge of the government.  The midwife said that the child would be delivered within a month.  Marta was very excited about this.  Effervescent with motherly enthusiasm, she told the poet how she would soon have a child while visiting at the coffee shop.  This is how the conversation went:

         "Very soon Jesus will be born.  I shall bring him to see you," said Marta.
         "I'm delighted. I do wish that we could be married, and that the child was mine," replied the poet.
         "I wish that sometimes," said Marta.
         
         And then they parted.  Ruiz had overheard the conversation.  He was infuriated.  He took his gun out of the third drawer on his dresser and loaded it.
         The following day, when the poet was leaving his reading, Ruiz shot him.  In the height of his imagined glory, with the 19th century clasped in one hand and the other holding his car door open, the poet had been shot.
         The poet was halfway into his impressive red Pontiac, and he saw Ruiz in his rear-view mirror.  He also saw Marta, on the sidewalk, behind Ruiz.  She was very pregnant and evidently distressed.  She had missed his reading.
         Ruiz shot the poet again.  The poet fell forward onto the leather upholstery of his car seat, and bled the color of his Pontiac: candy apple red.
         
         I am late for work.  Life isn't fair.

         That was the last coherent thought that the poet had before he crossed the threshold.
         Marta sat on the curb.  Her water broke.  She was crying. 
         Ruiz sprinted down the sidewalk, discarding his gun next to the poet.  Several people called the police.  One person called the ambulance.  Marta was going into labor.

--

         Ruiz was captured five minutes later.  He was arrested and sentenced.  Ruiz was deported back to his mother land.  In prison, he was stabbed to death over a pack of cigarettes.

         Life isn't fair.

         The poet's family was devastated.  The very intelligent father descended into depression and found very little joy in his fortune.  The lawyer mother was successful in persuading legislators to build a large, invisible, and impenetrable wall around the country. 
         Marta bore her son Jesus in a municipal hospital.  She determined that Jesus' father was the dead poet.  She had figured so for a while.
         Jesus and Marta were deported to where Marta had grown up.  Marta worked as a fruit picker.  When Jesus was old enough, he too worked as a fruit picker.  His IQ would have been measured at 130, had he been tested.  Psychologists say that this indicates a "moderate" intellectual gift.
         Jesus picked fruit until his mother died.
         He then joined a gang and sold cocaine for several years.  Jesus took all of the money that he had accrued and immigrated legally to the United States.  Jesus tried to attend college.  He was not accepted because he was ignorant.  Compulsory education was not enforced where he had emigrated from.
         Jesus died a migrant worker when he was 56.  He developed cancer of the throat from exposure to insecticide.  He did not have access to health care.

         This is because life isn't fair.