"Break" pt.1

11PM

The light is out in their bedroom and the bed frame squeaks. Uncapped metal feet scrape on the wooden floors and the box springs rhythmically taps against the thin wall beside my head. Did they remember to shut off the light or did the bulb just burn out? When will they change it? They usually don’t turn it off until way late. Maybe I should lay one out for them.

I never sleep most times so I get up and walk through the apartment when all gets quiet. I’ve walked in on them a couple of times. They pull the covers over their naked bodies to hide their privates and shout to get away and close the door. I don’t really care much if I see ‘em, I just like to remember I am still here and not in that tiny closet room with the reading tutor. If they ever want to come out and talk to me, I am up most times. They never do.

Earlier in the daytime when the sun was still out, she threw her biggest wooden shoe through the small twist out window in the front. That’s been my bedroom since him. It seemed alright at first ‘cause the T.V. was there, so I thought I could stay up and watch something instead of walk around most nights but I guess I just never like it then. During the day it’s a ‘traction for grey sky. I like being outside. I would just walk out there now, if I didn’t think I’d get hit.

I was gathering grass and sticks to put into a bucket with some bathroom toys when he cut down a piece of scrap to fit the hole. I liked watching him ‘cause he’s tall. My dad is short and I want to be tall. Big and tall so I can -blammo -fat Stephen at school when he gets to pesterin’ me and my girls. Like I did to skinny dick nick. We call him that ‘cause that is what his step ma said to him when she picked him up late and in a rush from the sitter.

Nick, you get your skinny little dick out here, we gotta go, your father’s waiting for me!’ Nick’s taller and has less meat than a chicken leg. I pushed his ass over the edge of the plastic fire truck jungle gym and knocked the wind outta his lunch bag lungs. He fell and crumpled like a sheet of construction paper. It wasn’t nothing like what happened today though. Today made me feel like king shit of the dung heap holding a turd staff and beating the piss outta the crap heads. Or I was Thor and my fist was his hammer.

‘My girls’ are just some friends I chase and make like I’m gonna kiss’em. Once I told my teacher recess was my favorite subject and she laughed, I tell everyone that and sometimes they smile. Feels good to make people smile. That’s why I chase my girls, cause they smile and giggle, even though they run away. Mom gets happy when he chases her into the bedroom and she giggles then they get naked and start wrestling on the bed. She’s always smiling when they come out of that cave. I call it a cave ‘cause it’s small and smells kinda funny and there are always clothes everywhere, fish dishes, papers and dirty wads of toilet paper all balled up from when she starts crying or I get a nose bleed. I get them a lot for no reason.

"Errands" Pt. 14

I looked around again at the other passengers. The sun was going down so I thought I’d have a chance at not getting noticed if I peered around. “Beaver huntin’?” I heard Charlie Pete say and he swiveled into my sides jabbin' a fire poker finger into my kidney. “For Fuck’s sake,” I yelled. He chortled and spat then grabbed hold of my shirt and pulled me close to him. I could see a white chalk residue creamin’ his lips like he forgot to rinse ‘n’ wipe after soft soapin’ his damn gums. His eyes got wide and I must have let out a gaspin' sound a shock 'cause the driver did what drivers ought not do and turned his head. They’s both was lookin’ square at me then there were two thumps and we was both lookin' at Charlie Pete silent on the rubber floor as the bus came screechin' to a halt.
There was all kinds of commotion as garden vegetables broke loose from a bag and rolled forward under the seats and a Roma tomato bounced offa Pete’s head like a wax water balloon. Everyone broke for an exit as I thought they were rushin' up to help Pete. The passengers bailed out like we was the titanic with an iceberg on the helm and they all forgot a cheesecake in the oven back home. It was a comical scene of green peppers and tie-dye, garbled speak and pandemonium. A guy in a red jacket stepped right over Charlie Pete and nearly kicked him in the jaw trying to jump out the door and run around to the front of the bus. “Pete,” I said. “You all right?” I bent down as best I could, extended my hand and laid it firm onto his body. “Damn,” I said shakin' my palm at the tomato mess on my Sunday’s best..
 
I heard someone say from outside the bus, “He’s in there. He was the one sitting next to the old fat fucker smelled of Jameson, downin’ prescription pills like Pez.” Geez I thought, they even knew what type of liquor odor ol’ Charlie gave off. I wondered how often you really had to get schlaughered to be familiar with that olfactory sensation. They must be alcoholics. A guy rose from the steps and pointed at me “hey you with the bike, you a missionary right?” I must of nodded with my eyes cause I didn’t feel my head move. “Well you best come here for a minute now.” “What about Charlie Pete”, I asked. You can worry ‘bout the tub-a later, shore nuff he might be dead but it’s best you come here and say some words for this fella who most definitely not ‘live.
 
I never thought my bike could be a murder weapon, sure I remember Chaz telling us that she had once seen a guy trying to bust from the cops but when they gained on him he just grabbed up his bike and started droppin' it on the officers head like an adrenalin rush or sprakin’ fool. He didn’t murder the cop none. Not like this sorry son of a bitch impaled through the melon by the steerin’ handle of my greasy geezer machine hitched to the front. Holy fuck shit balls I practically mouthed when I looked around to see the sangria brain splat. There were people startin' to gather wild. I bent down closer and prepared of what to say. The girl in the yellow dress was off to the side makin’ a gravel pit of dimples on her chin trying not to gag, like Prescious Goodman in the stock rooms, so it’s said. Then as if nothin’ doin’ she reached up towards her forehead and poked, gracefully touched that sensitive spot in the center of her chest people sometimes call their heart then crossed her titties from shoulder to shoulder and kissed her thumb. Lookin’ down at the mess I scratched my head and thought of what to say. “We gather here today in the name of our lord father to bless this man whose spirit is no longer among us…”
“What’s that?” Some guy shouted.
“Looks like a bit of his skull bone“, I said.
“No, whaddya mean father and spirit you fucking heretic tard bucket they’s one in the same.” He threw up his hands and flapped ’em back down like he was smoke signalin’. “Why you gotta say anything anyhow to an omniscient god, you think you got a pretty voice or something?” I toed at the turd piece of skull next to my shoe. “Your pedalin the written word ain’t ya? A woman shifted to say. “You know that’s pretty much obsolete, less it’s blue highlighted and underlined with a link to God himself, we just can’t use it.” A kid who was listening in, turned and spoke to the crowd, “Man let’s all just get in a kumbaya circle and hum what we know from All for the Best and then kick on home to post this on you-tube from our camera phones.” The guy stopped shouting and walked away. The crowd began to murmur and thin. “Sure“, someone else began, “it’s us that needs the learnin’.” He clicked shut his mobile device and turned towards O’Malley’s. “Got the entire score here on my pod.” A woman with a head scarf crawled up to the recently deceased, as if she were a leper, reached in his pocket and took out some bills then stood up graspin’ her child’s hand and together they crossed the street.