At first glance, the yard—adorned sporadically with large, colorful children’s toys and playhouses—spoke white trash. It was void of any grass secondary to years of small, scuffling feet hard at play in the children’s trove. It screamed disorganization, yet everything was in its perfect place. A chain link fence kept the good safe and the bad out. The van in the driveway confirmed there was always a little people party going on.
“You kids go and have fun but don’t touch Mama’s flower’s, now.”
Only one block away, an old small building stood. In days past it housed sexual debauchery in the basement—the live action kind. Bring your 18-plus-year-old boner and your wallet; the back parking lot speckled with hidden cars of shameful slaves to their loins. The building now stands as a tobacco and head shop. When the kids break free from the fence one day, they can get their first colorful glass pipe to match their old broken toys instead of a good old fashioned STD.
Twenty Dollar Bill
“I slept with a hooker last night” the dark-haired boy told his best friend.
The best friend sunk in the car seat unable to digest what he’d heard. His friend was always a momma’s boy. And save for the nicotine habit, he did nothing wrong. There was a vacuum in the car and the night sky turned darker. There was a demonic presence with the confession. The surrealism of the moment sent the best friend into near panic mode, like what he had heard triggered some sort of impending apocalypse.
“Why?” As he asked the question, he could feel the respect for his friend diminish.
“I don’t know.” He began to cry.
“You can’t be doing that, man! Now you’ve got a new nickname.”
NEWS UPDATE: Today (February 21, 2015) is the final day you can download the Kindle-friendly version of my story "One for the Road." If you enjoy it, please consider leaving a sentence or two stating so on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Also, within the next day or so I'll be making a pretty cool announcement.
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