Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Little Angels part 2

Jason took it real easy as he approached, and Aaron – ever the follower – tripped on Jason’s heels and then slowed himself.

“Hear you are on the welfare,” said Jason, his teeth china white, his lips curved upwards like Ark. “Your mom asked my mom for money. No way my mom is going to pay for your mom. But I guess she is because you are on the welfare.”

Jason elbowed Aaron, as if they were privy to a private joke at Johnny’s expense.

“Oh, I don’t want to pay for your shitty family,” said Aaron missing a personality of his own.

“Praise be to our parents for doing the right thing and having jobs,” said Jason, really extending the b on the word jobs.

“Yes praise. Praise indeed,” said Aaron, as the two continued down McBride, crossed the street and then disappeared in to the church.

Johnny had a feeling that Doug was listening real close to the conversation even though he was not standing by him. And when he reappeared, his face had that ponderous appearance boys had when they didn’t look you right in the eye but stood really close to you.

Johnny and Doug sat by the stoop looking at the docile street, seeing sparks.

“Welfare, huh?”

Johnny turned back to the broken window, fearful of talking about what he didn’t really understand.

“Well are you a mute or what, motherfucker?”

“I saw this movie last night, Pulp Fiction. You remind me of Samuel L. Jackson’s character,” said Johnny finally breaking his silence. “Right before he kills that guy he asks for a bite of the cheeseburger. I loved the way he takes that bitch’s burger and pop.”

Doug nodded his head real slow like he got the point.

The wind kept pulverizing and garbage pails were running side by side with trucks down the road. Curiously one stopped at the intersection as if it had a mini man inside driving and stopping it.

Doug didn’t seem to notice it and said to Johnny that he had a way to pay them back for their moms’ investment in the welfare. He pulled out a screwdriver with a rusted end with a red and gold handle. It looked like it had been left outside for years in an empty lot or one of those houses with dryers, stoves and shopping carts all over the front lawn.

“This is what I call the equals,” said Doug. “Those churchies think they are so pious, but Johnny we ain’t got to take their shit, no what I mean motherfucker?”

His eyes seemed to be filled with malevolent intent, as if the world was indeed to be fucked with by his little hands, that there was not enough havoc to be created by them, nor enough danger to be experienced by people from them.

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