Watchers

Thirty of us, bleary eyed and clucking,
gathered around the CCTV,
two bobs, one head,
and us,
"Rewind," he booms, a half moon crack across his lower face.
"Let 'em see it."
The one with his hat held at hip did just that.
In black and white it blurred backwards, lots of walking, static, stillness and then
play.

A man ran to the grounds, stopped at the gates, with his daughter and son in tow,
he frantically tied his dog to the gates, as no dogs were allowed in the school,
left it,
reluctantly, one pat and he kept running,
three men followed, one woman,
stopped outside, one man and woman bolted
the others loitered,
one was yelling at the dog,
edged closer,
having known of it,
revenge for whatever, of whatever kind
it seemed necessary, personal.
He kicked the dog, hard,
cooing, awing, grimacing from the audience in front of the screen -
or tried,
missed,
fell backwards,
cracked his head on the pavement,
didn't get up, down,
"See!" The baldest of us laughed, pointing.
"Karma that is!" Another chirped
and even I, I must admit was bewitched
as he laid there, not even twitching.
Ten minutes pass,
nothing -
a car pulls up,
the men get out, bundle him in,
drive off,
a sick feeling washes over my initial delight.
I can hear the man wailing in the office,
I know the children from my classes,
there's no delight in this,
none at all.