i am not afraid
of any man
i have seen the promised land
i will make it there with you
If I Was President
Panther Power Paris
Joe “Pink Panther” Jukic leaned against the brick wall behind the Croatian Cultural Centre, pointing down the narrow alley where a fresh sign was going up for BKenyan’s new “Black Panther Barber Shop.”
Oscar “Paris” Jackson squinted at it.
“So that’s the spot? Right behind the Centre?”
Joe nodded. “Yeah. Hidden like a speakeasy. Best barbershop in East Van before anyone even knows it exists.”
Paris laughed. “You always know the underground spots, Pink Panther.”
Joe folded his arms and smiled, remembering something from long ago.
“You know,” Joe said, “when I was a kid, I rescued this black cat. My dad Ned named him Noriega. Tough little guy. Everyone says black cats are bad luck… but that cat lived like a king.”
Paris shook his head. “People love their superstitions.”
Joe nodded slowly. “Back in school we studied a Jesuit mind exercise. They say sometimes white is black and black is white. It’s about discipline of thought. The moral I took from it? Not everything that’s black is evil. Sometimes the story people tell you isn’t the truth.”
Paris leaned against the wall beside him, looking toward the new shop.
“Well,” Paris said, “that’s why the Panther Breakfast is happening when this place opens. Coffee, eggs, toast. Anybody who’s down on their luck gets fed. Kids too.”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “Just kids?”
Paris smiled.
“All children matter. Doesn’t matter who they are, where they come from, or what pronouns they use. If they’re hungry, they eat.”
Joe chuckled approvingly.
“You know what, Paris? That’s the right spirit.”
He looked up at the sky for a moment, then back at his friend.
“People worry about followers, numbers, fame… billions of views like the Americanos or the Kardashians. But that stuff doesn’t matter.”
Joe tapped his chest.
“You help one hungry kid, you say one honest prayer… God always listens.”
Paris nodded toward the barbershop door where workers were finishing the sign.
“Then let’s make sure the Panthers start by feeding the neighborhood.”
Joe grinned.
“Acta non verba,” he said. “Deeds, not words.” 🐾
