Avancier2 Posted December 5, 2007 Share Posted December 5, 2007 I heard yelling back and forth between my mother and father through my bedroom door. Things started crashing around, and I became afraid. After a few minutes, I opened the door and peeked out. I saw them pushing each other around and bouncing off the walls of the living room. I couldn't help but cry. I didn't know which one I was more upset about getting hurt, I just knew it hurt me just as much to watch. As soon as I let out a shriek, all action stopped in the room. My father walked over and told me everything was fine and they were just having a small disagreement. My mother slumped over onto the couch and untangled her hair, which I'm guessing was being used as a leash on her only seconds before. Man, I aint gonna. lie, that shit made me cry like a motherfucker son. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
the_gooch Posted December 5, 2007 Share Posted December 5, 2007 dubiously enigmatic. nah, good shit man! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 5, 2007 Author Share Posted December 5, 2007 dude this is really AWESOME! I shall be purchasing a copy! --->Is there more graff related stuff in here???? It picks up "graffiti steam" very soon and the whole middle of the book is about my graffiti adventures. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 5, 2007 Author Share Posted December 5, 2007 Chapter 5 So much for love on Detroit Avenue. Besides all of that, this would also be the Summer that a new strange assortment of people would make the pilgrimage into our neighborhood. Most of these odd newcomers ended up calling Dan's address their new home. Dan's building had four units, two upstairs, two down. Dan and his family lived in the top, right unit. The first batch of people on our list lived across the hall from Dan and was a family that consisted of three kids, their mom and step dad. The three kids were: (from oldest to youngest) Larry, Sharon and Kevin. Their mom was a women who mirrored my mother named Gail. Looking at her I realized those kids were going to be forced to grow up fast just like myself. Their step dad (who's name I can't remember) was an odd foreign man who we barely ever saw. He was always angry and grunting though on the rare occasions we did see him. I think he hated Americans or something, Who knows? Dana became friends with Sharon quickly and Dan and I found this to be a great thing, we had another girl to pick on now. Dana and Sharon were inseparable most of the time right from the get-go. They had become sort of the female counterpart to Dan and I around the neighborhood. Sharon was a pretty young girl who had life stacked against her at an early age. Besides poor parenting, she was born with a speech impediment which made most people often mistake her being mentally deficient. The truth is, she was smart for her age, no one just ever gave her a chance. Kevin, the youngest was a little blond squeaky fireball of a kid. He was too young to hang out with us but you'd always see him zipping all over the area with the younger kids from our block. Last but not least was Larry. Larry could've been a cartoon character of himself. He was a beanpole kid with a bobble head and bony overextended appendages. Bushy brown hair hung down into his face and buck teeth thing sprung out of his mouth when he spoke. All that and a sort of a country twang to his cracking voice wrapped up this fine package that was Larry. He was a few years younger than us and really didn't have friends his age in the area. Larry fell right into that mid-age void of all the kids around us, too young for one half, too old for the rest. Doomed to playtime limbo. Most kids in the neighborhood made fun of him behind his back and to his face with no regards to his feelings and wouldn't even consider hanging out with him regardless of age. Larry would just take it with a grain of salt most of the time, I think he knew he had a rough life ahead of him and took it for what it was. Most days you'd just find Larry scuffing along, all by his lonesome. Dan and I took pity on him a lot and tried to take him under our wing when we could. He was a hard kid to figure out most of the time and didn't open up much but we couldn't help but feel for him. Over the years we'd begin to teach Larry about bike repair, the weapons we made, video games, all the cool stuff. A lot of it didn't really seem to stick the way it did for Dan and I but he went along with the flow nonetheless. He took it all in but somehow managed to develop a growing passion that no one else in the neighborhood had, a passion for cars. This kid loved 'em and could tell you all about them. No one knows where he was getting the info from, his family didn't even have a car besides his step dad's rusty old work van. There was no widespread use of the Internet yet and this kid couldn't even afford a car magazine. Somehow he just learned, almost like some sort of auto-osmosis. He took this new found love and ran with it from that early age on. Out of everyone in that family he grew up the best in my opinion. As the years went on, the hardships of the family as a whole took its toll on the individuals. Sharon, his sister ended up becoming a stripper with two kids from two different guys some years later. Kevin got big dreams of being the next big white rapper for awhile and was trying to put out an album but that dream eventually faded over time. Larry kept true to himself as the years passed followed his heart. To this day he's still yapping about and working on cars and car stereo units and loving it. It's not rocket science, but he does what he loves and he makes enough to scrape by. Who knows what the parents are up to these days, probably drowning their sorrows in alcohol somewhere. This was how most families were structured around our way. Parents spit out kids they can't raise, kids lose hope early on, kids reproduce...and so on. This one family you just heard about briefly was just a small glimpse into all of the hardships people faced where we lived. It gets much worse and I'd soon find out how much worse. The other two families downstairs of Dan were odd ones to say the least. Directly below Dan's family lived a girl named Nichole and a person that we guessed was her mother. Let me back up a little bit to explain this right. Every morning on the way to school and every afternoon coming home there stood a woman on the corner like clockwork. If you entered her vicinity she would mumble out. “Ya got a quarter for the bus?” She never got on the bus though. We just chalked her up as harmless crazy bag lady. You'd never see her come and go from that corner. She'd just appear and disappear like magic. We had no clue where she lived or if she was even from our neighborhood. One day I got lucky though to finally find some answers. It was an odd hour of the evening, right around twilight, there were next to no people on the street. I was walking to the deli when I saw her, she was counting change in her hand and it looked like we had the same destination. I went into the store first, bought some cookies and a pop and got a handful of quarters for the arcade games inside. A few moments later the door swung open and the bell chimed. It was her! She walked over to the counter and piled up mountains of change onto the surface. Ziad, the local shop owner must've been used to this he just said “Hi Mary” nonchalantly. I was in shock. Not only was she not on the corner, the only place I'd ever seen her in my life but she must have had almost a hundred dollars in change, mostly in quarters. Was this all from one day? She bought a few things and Ziad gave her paper cash in exchange for the rest. I had to know more. I pretended to be playing my video game still but could care less at this point about my game. I was on the hunt for answers. She waddled out the front door and I gave her a few seconds lead before pursuing. She was a slow walker and barely made it to the corner by the time I got there. I had to play it cool. I sat down in the bus stop and waited her out. She crossed the side street and was heading in the direction of Dan's building. Correction, she was heading to Dan's building! Holy crap. Did this weirdo live in Dan's building? She walked in between the two buildings to the back porch, I was more than intruiged at this point. When she got there she walked up to the back window of the apartment below Dan's and climbed in it from off of the porch! My jaw dropped. What the hell had I just witnessed? I ran up the back stairs top speed. “Dan Dan Dan! That weird girl Nichole that lives below you....Sh, she lives with the crazy quarter lady!!! She just climbed in the building through a window!” Dan took a minute to take this all in. I explained the whole thing to him as calmly as I could. After hearing the details, he wanted to know more now too. Why did I call Nichole weird you might wonder? No matter what time of day, if she was coming out or going into her apartment and ran into someone else in the hall she'd slam the door and lock it. If she was coming out and saw you, she'd go back in and slam the door. She was an odd girl to begin with even before all this new information arose. In a sense it was like it's own Addam's family down there and Nichole fit the casting perfectly. She was a slim, hunched girl with pale skin and jet black hair. She had a cute girl next door face, if you could actually catch a glimpse before the door slammed shut. Was this panhandler really her mother? Was she so ashamed that she just locked herself away constantly? We did something next that I'm not to proud of. I had to see what was going on in that house. The problem was all the windows had heavy drapes or were blacked out with garbage bags. Curiosity killed no cat that day, instead it picked up a rock and threw it straight through the back bedroom window. This was the room we believed “Mary” stayed in. We had waited until the next day when we knew her and Nichole had left on their own separate ways, I was nominated to be the trigger man. I did it on the basis that maybe something bad was going on in there that needed to be brought to light. That house had secrets, I needed to know them. I stood on the back porch, weapon in hand. Dan waited eagerly by my side to see the results. I lifted for the throw once, then put my arm back down. Finally I let my mind go blank and launched the tennis ball sized rock into the air. I watched and heard the glass break in what felt like slow motion and land all around me. Silence fell, it had been done. The garbage bag that had been blocking the window from the inside laid on the floor of the room underneath my stone. It was dark in there, our eyes took a second to adjust as we squinted in. A stale smell wafted out of the confinements, it was like looking into a portal to another dimension for us. As our eyes finally adjusted, we were horrified with what we saw. The walls were disgusting, they were covered in patches of mold and appeared to be smoke or water damaged. The bed was just a dirty mattress tossed into the corner of the filth laden room. There were random scraps of paper and materials strewn about the floor, some looked like they had been laying there for years. The room itself looked like it had been abandoned for decades. I knew it was not though, this was just one bone of the skeletons from their walk in closet but it was more than enough for me. I didn't want to know the rest of the story. Fear took over. I ran hard and fast. I stayed away from Dan's house for a few days after that. All I could think about were the horrendous living conditions I had witnessed. The word had gotten out quickly, this was the hot news on the streets. All week kids were coming up to me asking me to give them details. I didn't want to talk about it. I wished I had never seen it. Time heals all things I'd heard and I hoped it was true when it came to memories. After a few weeks it had in fact been shoved to the backs of our memories and we moved on with our lives trying to forget whatever it was that was going on down there We never told anyone outside of our click about it and we never got in trouble for the window. I think Nichole probably guessed it was us though. I never could look her in the eye after that. The bottom left apartment in Dan's building had been vacant for a good amount of time, as long as I could remember actually. Until one day we saw a fleet of raggedy vehicles pull up filled to the gills with boxes and bags. Out from the first car came what appeared to be a Husband and Wife. From the next car came two boys and a girl. They looked like they fit right into this neighborhood, down and out and mad at the world. The wife and mother if the group had on a stained oversized t-shirt with something along the lines of a Looney Tunes character on it. The husband (I guess) of the bunch looked like a hard ass fresh from prison. The two boys looked like they knew how to skin a cat. As for the girl, she looked the type to be pregnant before eighteen if she hadn't spit one out already. They set up shop that day and we met on the front porch a couple of days later. The two boys, Billy and Richie were about me and Dan's age. Tonya was the sister and appeared to be a few years older. They had the classic mannerisms of deep woods Southerners, from the lingo to their general attitudes. We could tell they didn't have two dimes to rub together but they seemed nice enough. Our whole group of friends didn't really know what to make of them at first but we welcomed them into our circle anyways. Only time would tell. Meanwhile, back at the ranch...Things were getting no better for dear old mom. The doctor had recently broke the news to her that she had five or six years left if she was lucky. At this point, I just accepted the information for what it was. I had lost almost all emotion for my mother truthfully. She was now chain smoking and binge drinking her last Earthly years away without a care. Most people would try and live this time left to the fullest, she used it to drown in her sorrows and beat the hell out of me when I stood still long enough. Our neighbor across the hall had still been keeping tabs on our situation and was now helping us out with food and small amounts of money here and there. At one point she even asked me if I ever considered going to a private school. I laughed and told her that we barely had survival money. She said “what if someone payed for it for you, would you go?” I stood in awe. “Are you saying you'd pay for it?” I asked. She told me that she saw a lot of potential in me and was considering to pay for me to go to St. Edwards, a prominent boys Catholic school in Lakewood. That wasn't my kind of place but it could be a way out of this life. I told my mother about the offer on the table and It either hurt mom's pride or triggered some delusional paranoia in her. She was outraged and would have no part in it. She told me we couldn't talk to our neighbor anymore. We fought about it for days but I gained no ground in the matter. I was heartbroken even though I was unsure if I was going to take the offer or not. I don't know if it had anything to do with the incident but we ended up moving again shortly after it and I never saw that woman again. Who knows what could've been? Here's where it gets ridiculous. Believe it or not, we moved into the building next door...Yes, one building over. I hated my mother at this point, they way I looked at it was that she ruined a once in a lifetime opportunity for me because of her foolish pride, which she had no room for anyways. I had to get away from this woman soon before she takes my life down with hers. I couldn't bare to be in the same house as her anymore, I only came home to go to sleep, if I even came home. On the nights that I would sleep there, I'd lay in bed crying as I prayed for her. I made sure that no one ever saw me break though, I considered it a sign of weakness. I knew I couldn't ask God to extend her life, I just prayed that she'd go painlessly and show me some love while she was still here. Every night I sent out this message to the Heavens. I'd fall asleep thinking it over and over. If she only could've known how much I wished nothing but the best for her while she came into the room with her belt in hand again. My crime was being born and beginning to look like my father. My crime was not wanting to spend time in the walls of a house full of despair and anger. My crime was her anger for her own foolish ways that were leading her to an early demise. The penalty: another rude awakening from a mother full of alcohol and rage. I still head tears dried to my face from earlier, I had new ones flowing over top now. The belt struck me as I slept. I woke up quickly. I knew what was going on, there was no surprise. This wasn't the first time. It would be the last though. I faded into consciousness hearing her screaming about how she hated me and how I only came home to sleep. “You want to treat this like a flophouse?” She screamed “FINE!” Crack! The belt hit again. I stood up and looked down at her. At thirteen years of age I towered over her small, decaying frame. She was a tiny woman to begin with and her multiple illnesses had stunted her furthermore. I stared her directly in the eye and said “enough”. This was the first time I had ever confronted her. I had done it without thinking. By the time my body reacted, my brain was catching up to the matter. She saw this as a threat and swung the belt directly at my face. I caught it in my left hand and let it snap in my palm. The excess wrapped around my now closed fist. I had a FIRM grip on my end. I screamed out “You're not going to hit me anymore!” She tugged at the belt violently. She could've had five of her on her side and not gotten this belt from me. She let go and went to slap me across the face. Before I knew what happened, I turned the belt on her. I hit her once across the face with it. It sent her spinning. I had no control over my body, years of abuse did. She fell to her knees silently. I screamed again “You will never put your hands on me again!!!” and cracked her across the back several times like she had done to me so many times. I was now shaking and crying, it was over. She was on the floor sobbing. Anger left, fear came in. I couldn't let her see the fear or my stand would've been worthless. “How do you like it?” I uttered as I dropped the belt and walked towards the front door. I knew I couldn't stay there that night. As I left I heard her go to a neighbors door to call the Police on her son who “attacked her for no reason”. I walked away casually but as I turned the corner I ran as if fearing for my life. Reality had set back in and I had just hit my mother. When can I go back? I wondered...Can I go back? I went to Dan's house first but no one one answered. I knew if I hoofed it up to Roy's house I could get in. It was a long walk but I was short on options. I ended up camping out there for a few days and collecting myself up. When it was time to go back, he asked me if I wanted him to come with me for support. I told him there's no reason, she wouldn't let him in anyways. I began the long walk home. The whole time in my head I was scripting out the conversation we were going to have. Versions of her being drunk, versions of her being sober. Would there be tears from me or her, or more violence? Mt stomach was in knots. About twenty minutes later I arrived at our building. I stood straight up at it from the front step. Clouds were drifting by overhead, I wished I could follow them to anywhere but here. When I got to our door I could hear her clanking around inside, I knocked and the door opened quickly. She pulled open the door and asked me where I had been. Her voice was somber. I mumbled “Roy's” as I walked in on guard. I sat down on the couch and watched the t.v. that was already on, she went back to banging around in the kitchen. That day I sat around waiting for something, anything to happen. Nothing ever did, good or bad. The whole situation was so intense that it was never brought up again. It was as if it had been erased from the pages of time. Mom took a few pokes at me here and there again, but I never received a beating after that day. Summer was coming to a close and It was time to head back to the classroom. I had done poorly last year due to a number of reasons, so I had to make up a good handful of seventh grade classes while attending eighth grade. Well, at least I wouldn't be stuck in classes with the kids that made fun of me all last year. Now that Dan and I had our little hustle with the food stamps going on. I could get some cash together for a descent haircut and some clothes before school started. I repeated the process again, take a few, make change, keep change. I did this for about two months straight and saved every penny I could. It ended up not being much but it was enough that I could use my mother's school clothes money combined with my “savings” to buy a few nice things instead of a bunch of crap. I had to get shoes first. In the 'hood you design your whole wardrobe around your shoes. First stop, Tower City Mall. In the early 1900's “Tower City” was called the Terminal Tower. This Gothic skyscraper stands proud right in the middle of Downtown Cleveland. It's basement used to be host to Amtrak trains and was a major Midwest hub in the early twentieth century. It was renovated and reopened in the 90's as a three floor mall that was originally intended to be upscale shopping but Clevelanders are dirt poor, I guess they forgot that while they were in the planning phases. Soon after its launch, places like Gap and Abercrombie gave way to several custom airbrush shops and a dollar store. This was the spot where kids from the East and West ghettos came to shop though, myself included. I went into Foot Locker sorta' nervous. I never had enough money to buy shoes from here before. I wasn't sure if I did now. The prices were outrageous! Most of the shoes prices sailed past a hundred dollars. I got discouraged as I looked around at the space age shoes with three digit price tags attached. I guess I'd still wear some “buddies” this year. Then I saw them sitting on a sale shelf. They beckoned me. A glowing white pair of high top Reeboks with a big red sale sign under them. I picked up one, forty five dollars, I had enough! I got them in my size and took off out of the store. I sat down at a seat at the food court and changed my shoes immediately. They were BRIGHT white, so bright that they were catching my eye from the glow as I walked. They were meant to be worn with baggy jeans and I had on some tight around the ankles, 80's rock stonewashed jeans. I walked around looking like I had two pillows on my feet that day. I had to get some new clothes fast, at least I was cool from the ankles down now. Next it was back to the West Side to a local department store called Silverman's. Before Wal-mart came in and devoured every local business alive, Silverman's was the place to shop. They had it all, from gardening supplies to ghetto fashion. I used the rest of my combined income, about a hundred dollars to buy some baggy jeans and some shirts that didn't make me look like a handicapped hillbilly. I made sure to save a few bucks for a haircut too. The shopping was done. I was actually happy to be going home for once. I carried in my bags of new duds and threw them on my bed. “Let's see what you got.” my mom said. I was nervous to show her, this was the first time she ever let me go school clothes shopping without her. I pulled out jeans first, she halfheartedly approved. Next I pulled out shirts with L.A. Raiders logos and hiphop lingo on them. I could see her face turn. The shoes were the icing on the cake. I laid out a whole outfit across the bed. “You want to walk around looking like a black guy? Fine!” She slammed the door and left the room. As she walked away I heard a muffled “Not when you're out with me though!” It had went about as good as could be expected. I threw on a new outfit and was out the door as quick as I came in. It was time to get this blond mop off of my head. I liked having these new clothes on, I felt different. It was like a suit of magic confidence armor. I felt a glide in my stride that day. I made it up to the barbershop on 117th in no time flat, I hadn't had a haircut since God knows when and couldn't wait to lose some of this mess that was hanging limp down to my shoulders. I looked through hair style magazines as I waited. All these haircuts looked too preppy for me, I needed something “fresh”, something that was more on the bad boy side. Before I knew it I was being called into a chair, “Whoa! When was the last time you were in?” she said. I felt embarrassed and dodged the question. “I've never been here.” I meekly replied. “This is like over a year's worth of growth!” she exclaimed as everyone turned and looked my way now. I thought to myself “Just cut the damn hair, lady.” “How do you want it styled?” she asked. I thought for a minute and pictured a new on the scene rapper I saw recently. “I want it to look like Vanilla Ice's” I yelled out. That was just the cut I needed to complete my new look. In no time hair was falling in hunks to the floor. She tore through it with scissors in layers until it was short enough to use clippers on. Wow, I hadn't seen my scalp or forehead in years. After about a half hour or so I was done. The barber looked exhausted. I was now sporting a close resemblance of Vanilla's hairdo, shaved on the sides and a spiked pile on top. I stared into the mirror at a person I barely recognized now. It was better than what I came in with, that's for sure. I payed and tipped with my last ten dollars and was on my way. I made it back to the neighborhood and was out to show off my new look to everyone. I felt like a million bucks. Dan wasn't home so I rounded the corner to Frankie's house, I could walk the catwalk there. Frankie had an older sister named Veronica that I and the rest of the neighborhood had the hots for anyways, maybe she'll notice the cool new Bob if she's there! Veronica was the unobtainable, too old for us anyways, looked like Princess Leia girl of the neighborhood that all the prepubescent boys drooled over. She was the girl that you washed your face and combed your hair for when you went to the Stump family house. She ended up being out with her boyfriend Dave (who we all said looked like the cop from Terminator 2) oh well...next time, her loss.. I went up to Frankie's room where he was sitting playing Nintendo. I attempted to make small talk with him and waited to see if he'd notice the new and improved Bob. He just continued to talk with his head buried into the television. I guess his game of Super Mario had him a little preoccupied, I couldn't blame him. After a few minutes I got something from him like “Whoa, all your hair's gone!” and that was it. I'll take that as a compliment. Maybe clothes don't make the man. It might sound material but I really felt better about myself in the oncoming days and weeks. I now valued the things that I owned, unlike my mother. I think I cleaned those white Reeboks three or four times a day. I was beginning to create an identity for myself at last, I was no longer the scrubby kid in tow by the weird old lady. Those shoes and that haircut were the symbols of my budding independence. The first day of the school snuck up on all of us quickly but I was ready and waiting this year though. I was excited to hear that Bert was riding to school with me this year, I finally had a friend for the long ride to school. I hadn't seen Bert too much that Summer, we were off on different adventures. When I caught up with him at the bus stop he barely recognized me at first glance. Bert was still rockin' the taped glasses and lip balm, I was sporting my Vanilla Ice hair, baggy jeans and had ditched the Trapper Keeper. I was getting glances from other kids that rode the bus with me last year as well. They huddled in their corner and whispered to each other while looking in my direction. I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking? This wondering started to make me nervous. Did they recognize me from last year? Do they remember how I used to look? What if they thought I looked stupid now? My stomach began to hurt. This was the first time I ever really worried about personal image. I had to ride this feeling out. “Be cool” I thought to myself. “You look good on the outside, get a hold of the inside.” In a few minutes Mr. Z pulled up with the bus. I wondered if he had ever taken off the sunglasses during Summer vacation? This made me laugh to myself a little and helped ease the nervousness. Bert and I took my seat from last year, the very last seat on the left side of the bus. It was out of the way of everyone else. This was fine for now, it gave me time to catch up with Bert anyways. Soon though, an advance in seating had to be made. Hopefully Bert would come along on the quest for coolness on the school bus. On the ride there, Bert told me that his brother Tim was getting out of Juvenile Detention in the next few weeks. I flashbacked instantly to Josh and I rummaging through his room and the mess we had probably made in doing so. My heart dropped. “Oh...that's great.” I said with a tremor in my voice. I felt like a dead man walking...er, riding. With our conversation going it felt like we got to school in no time at all that morning. Bert and I hopped off of the bus and parted ways at the door. I looked up at the school in front of me in took in a deep breath. Today was it, Carpe Diem! This year would be a far cry from the last. I walked in and my senses went haywire from my nerves. The hallway lights felt extra bright over my head, the first bell clanged on for what felt like hours. I staggered down the hall to my new locker. I think I was having an anxiety attack. Just then I was snapped out of it by a “Hey PECK!” One of the guys who I sat in homeroom with last year gave me a yell. I stopped and straightened up. “Look at you man! Tryin' not to be a mamma's boy this year I see!” I just nodded and kept going. Was that a compliment? Sure, why not? I saw it the whole day, kids that knew me from last year saw the change. The question was did they respect it or think I was putting up a front? The first day of this year went a lot smoother than last year's, thats for sure. In the coming days and weeks I found it easier and easier to socialize with my peers. Isn't it sad that people will only fraternize with other people based on the shell that they wear? Hey, whatever works I guess! Because people were actually befriending me this year, I found it easier to start to introduce the real me on the inside as well. I was able to show my talents as an artist more and more. I wasn't the weird looking, quiet kid this year. I was “that white dude that draws real good”. I'll take what I can get. In no time flat It seemed like I was drawing pictures for everyone. Girlfriends names, cartoon characters, you name it. One project though opened my eyes to a whole new world. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mauler5150 Posted December 5, 2007 Share Posted December 5, 2007 Wow. I really like the progression and you are kinda motivating me to do my own. As I read and draw parallels to my own life (and the huge differences). It also gives me an example of what to include and leave out as I like to ramble sometimes, and there is so much I could put in. But top effort look forward to more! 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 5, 2007 Author Share Posted December 5, 2007 Thanks Mauler, Hopefully the rest of you are digging it too. I know it's not ultra-graffitified yet, but it's getting there. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Grimes Posted December 5, 2007 Share Posted December 5, 2007 This shit gets better and better.Being able to relate to some of it makes it cool too. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Spitfire15 Posted December 6, 2007 Share Posted December 6, 2007 Yea this keeps getting better and better. Real good read. Wish I had a credit card to buy a book haha. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
M_I Posted December 6, 2007 Share Posted December 6, 2007 wow...i just re-read this for the second time..... ite really good so far bojangles... props (the real kind, not the button kind haha) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
count chocula Posted December 6, 2007 Share Posted December 6, 2007 overtime's comin easy tonight - thanks Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 6, 2007 Author Share Posted December 6, 2007 Chapter 6 While sitting in math class one day, I noticed a kid in the front rifling through a notebook with what appeared to be crudely drawn maps. This intrigued me and confused me all at once. Why would a thirteen year old need hand drawn maps? Was he that into camping? Maybe he was running away. I stared hard and tried to focus in on them as he added details with his pencil. He was marking in buildings and drawing paths that ended on one piece of paper and continued onto the next. This kid was serious with whatever he was doing. Whatever it was, it was no map of Cleveland. The next day I chose to sit closer to him so I could investigate further. I came to class early and grabbed the seat right behind him. As usual, he worked on his maps again. Upon closer inspection I noticed he also had sketches of medieval characters and lots of notes. This was some kind of game he was creating it seemed. Interesting. I quickly wrote a note to him and passed it over. “What are those drawings for?” Without looking back he wrote back, “Dungeons & Dragons.” Whoa...I had heard of this game before. I had only heard crazy rumors about it though, something about it being played by Satanists and kids killing people over it. This kid didn't fit the bill of a mass murdering Satan worshiper though. I would soon find out that his name was Ricky and his older brother had gotten him and his friends into the game recently. Ricky was what was called the “Dungeon Master” or narrator for his group of players. Ricky was definitely not into the black arts that this game had been rumored to be tied to. He was a small guy, probably the smallest in the class. Classic boy next door looks with dark bangs hanging into an innocent enough face. He looked like he could be one of the kids who's picture would come with a picture frame, definitely not a Satanist. I wanted to know more about this game now and how to play it, I needed a good escape from reality. I caught up with him at lunch and study hall when I could and he would go on to teach me the basic premise of the game. Every player except the Dungeon Master makes up a fantasy character with different attributes based on dice rolls. You keep all your character stats on paper and the character grows throughout the adventure that the Dungeon Master unfolds. This is known as a role playing game. I was hooked. Now I had to bring it back to the neighborhood! I knew Dan would dig it so I went to him first and laid it all out to him. Ricky loaned me some of his maps and characters for reference. That night I had Dan coming up with his own Character. Next was Frankie, I wasn't sure how he'd take to the game, he might think it was ridiculous. Strangely enough he liked the idea and whipped himself up a Barbarian ready for battle. Dan and I spread the word of the new game around the 'hood like wildfire. Bert signed on next and eventually we even got Roy to stop being cool for five minutes and play too. We were almost ready to play. Dan and I ventured into Lakewood that week and bought the special dice needed to play from a hobby shop. The dice have multiple sides for various in-game situations. Some dice have six sides, some have twenty. Now all we needed to decide was who would be Dungeon Master. Dan jumped at the position when the question was asked, it was settled. We ventured into our first quest shortly after. Dan compiled a story, enemies, townsfolk, and maps. It was his job to bring all of it to life for our characters to interact in. Dan was serious about his new position and told his story with great conviction. In no time he had us saving damsels, finding holy shields and fighting off Orcs. We didn't even realize how much time had passed the first time we played the game. All of our bikes laid in a pile at Frankie's house from sunrise to sunset that day. At first we kept the game a secret to our parents, we didn't want the bad rep that had come from a few stupid kids in the past to be pinned on us as well. Eventually the various parental figures questioned why we were held up in our rooms for hours at a time. Rather than have them suspect drugs or who knows what, we showed them the game. Most of our parents were cool with it. If I remember correctly, Bert had to sneak to play the game because his father is a Pastor and was convinced by the dark rumors that he had heard in the past. That didn't stop Bert from being a level five Cleric in the hours after school though. That whole season and beyond would be consumed by that game, every waking minute became a chance to lead your party to victory. I think we became hooked because it gave us escape from the ghetto and an escape from our loseriffic real lives. More often than not, you would see the look of disappointment set in our all of our faces after five or six hours of playing and then walking back out to the “real world”. When we weren't playing Dungeons & Dragons, we were out in the wood chip field fashioning makeshift weapons styled after those in the game. On one of our blacksmithing sessions we saw a figure walking towards us cautiously. We looked over to who we thought was Dan's neighbor Larry. He looked at us and said “Can I come into the yard?” We replied with “What, are you stupid Larry? This is your yard too.” The person responded with a confused “I'm not Larry, I'm Mark. I just moved in next door!” We looked him up and down and continued working on our weapons without a second thought about him or his presence. He was confused as to what we were doing and curiously questioned our labors. We were polite at heart, so we explained it to him quickly and returned back to work. I think he could tell we were very disinterested in him at first so after a few more awkward minutes he exclaimed “Well do you guys wanna' come over to my house? I've got pizza and Nintendo!” We stood up quickly, he now had our attention. Who needs swords when you have Super Mario and cold refreshments? Mark was a goofy looking kid at first glimpse. He was one of those guys that needed to grow into his features still. He had big ears popping out from the sides of his head. Knobby knees stuck out from below his Basketball shorts. Giant feet rested at the bottom of this structure, holding it all upright. He was a cool dude though. He was a genuine article, not one of the regular kids around here trying to be something he's not. We got to his house and met his little brother Danny and his two preschool aged sisters Michelle and Nichole. The house was still disheveled from them moving in a few days prior. Boxes lined the walls, a couch was tossed unevenly into the living room. The walls were scarce of any decoration. “When did you move in?” I asked. “A week or two ago.” Mark answered. I wondered why this place wasn't a little more put together by now? Who was I to judge one's living habits though? A few minutes later the steps to this place creaked as someone else was coming up. “That must be my dad!” Mark said. In walked a guy that looked like he should be at a Jimmy Buffet show, front row. He wore big sunglasses and had a goofy smirk. He had on a “Joe Camel” shirt, sleeveless of course and flip flops. “What's up dudes!” said Mark's dad loudly. This was his dad? I thought to myself. Well that explains the place not being set up yet. Mark's dad, “Big Mark”- Introduced himself, than slid Mark a twenty and said, “Go get some snacks for our guests” I liked this guy already. We would hear later in the day that Big Mark was a Judge downtown. I found it hard to believe at first but I guess it takes all kinds. From what I had seen so far I could tell that Little Mark and his brother Danny essentially had control over this house. Big Mark was hardly ever there and when he was, he was busy playing cards and knocking back cold ones with his “bros”. It was my first experience at a party house, I liked it though. He had a freedom that I would've killed for. Dan and I were now showing up there on the regular and soon Mark and Danny were quickly assimilated into our collective. Their home would become the grounds for events such as shooting fireworks onto neighbors porches from their porch. Massive, whole neighborhood sleepovers and Nintendo marathons. This would also be the place that we would now host our D&D games at as well. We saw the potential for this place and got Mark hooked on the game quickly. We would spend hours on end either at his dining room table or in his basement playing our obsession away. Things got so intense these days, that real fights would break out between players over decisions made in the game. On several occasions, players would come outside to find their bike tires had been flattened after someone else had left in a fit of anger. Good times. The few times that we were able to break ourselves free of that game we'd go down to Baltic Park to catch some fresh air. All the guys were into basketball except me. Just like the scenario at Cudell's pool, I didn't want to be left behind so I'd tag along. Because of my height everyone would try and get me to play constantly even though I could care less about bouncing and throwing an inflated piece of rubber into a metal ring. I guess they all saw it differently though. There'd always be a game going on down there between a mix of people I hung out with and the ghetto dudes from the area. I'd get drafted into games constantly against my will due to someone needing an even team. Usually I'd just let my mind wander and zone into the environment around me, blue sky, rusty fences. Most of the time I'd get a rude awakening from some pissed off dude yelling “Come on whiteboy, you slippin!” Our time would transfer between Dungeons and Dragons and Baltic Park a lot this Summer. I never really liked that place and would always try to find the first opportunity to leave at at the earliest possibility. It was often a good idea to get out of there at a decent time anyways. Once the sun set, the park would take on a whole new identity. It would go from funtime hangout for youngsters to a haven for basketball games played by the notorious dealers and gangsters of the 'hood in a matter of minutes sometimes. The scenery changed quickly as the light of day crept down behind the skyline at that park. Children ran home to their parents leaving the swings abandoned, the laughter would stop and all you would hear was the slamming of bodies into each other and shouting, mostly in Ebonics. The park always had an air of caution about it during those times, one wrong word to any of these guys on the court could set them off. Bert and I of all people got dragged into one of their games one day while hanging out, minding our own business. You could see the look of sheer terror on Bert's face and mine when they drafted us to play so they'd have enough guys for a game of five on five. We weren't even near the court at the time, we were all the way over at the playground area when a few of them came over and told us we were playing. We both looked to each other quickly for a good answer as to why we couldn't. We tried it all, from it was time to go eat dinner to “I'm sick.” It wasn't flying, we were stumbling around the court in no time. If you've never seen a b-ball game in the hood, it's like no other game you'll ever see. It's full of aggression with lots of showboating and cussing. God forbid you foul somebody more than once, you might go home on a stretcher. In that very game stands Bert and I surrounded by eight black dudes, all gangstered out from head to toe and twice our sizes. We did awesome though! ...just kidding. I don't think either of us touched the ball more than once and when we did we screwed up with it. By the end these guys hated us. One stood out in particular and I could see his anger towards us playing. When it was all said and done we tried to scurry away as quickly as possible but one guy kept talking trash to Bert as we walked. The rest of the gangsters were on their way out and could care less about us. I don't even remember how it began or what was being said, all I remember was getting corralled into the playground area by this dude and his boy. He made himself known quickly as “Cat Eyes”. This name had been spoken before in circles that I chose to keep my distance from. Cat Eyes' reputation preceded him around here as someone whose bad side you didn't want to get on. It was abundantly clear why he was dubbed with this name, his light blue eyes beamed out from in between a black skullcap and his dark complexion. He wore a wicked grin while he spoke and reminded me of the Cheshire Cat. Now if only we could make him disappear. No such luck as he crept up to Bert, asking questions like “What would you do if I just hit you right now?” Bert shrugged fearfully. “Wrong answer.” Cat Eyes flinched in at Bert but surprisingly he held his ground. This must've been a trait he picked up from Tim. For some reason I was invisible and Bert was the sole target. I kept eyeing a hole in the fence that I could slip through off to the side, I couldn't leave Bert though. I decided to stay and waited for this kangaroo court to come to an end. Cat Eyes was amused that Bert didn't flinch, he now had to up his game though. He casually walked over to a tree and ripped off a descent sized branch and walked back over to us. Bert and I had no clue why this was happening. Cat Eyes must've wanted to show his libido that day and we were perfect prey for the occasion. We now had a small crowd of 'hood kids hovering around, watching from a safe distance. This was not a good feeling, I felt like a peasant thrown into a gladiator arena. As we stood there frozen, he picked off the small branches from his club and held it over Bert's head. Bert stood at attention like a soldier. The branch came crashing down across his shoulder blade, I couldn't help but flinch that time. This was really getting Cat Eyes going. It was truly a game of cat and mouse now. Cat eyes said “I like you” to Bert as he lit up a cigarette. At that moment we thought it was over and we attempted to walk away. As Bert passed Cat Eyes, he held out his cigarette, grabbed Bert's shoulder with one hand and put out the cigarette on Bert's cheek with the other. I saw Bert begin to crack. One tear came out and disappeared quickly. We just kept walking quietly, there was nothing we could do and we knew it. I felt awful for Bert but I was amazed at how he stood his ground. It might have saved him from a brutal beatdown. Bert and I stayed away from the park for the next week or so, we had better things to do anyways with our time. I think we got less injured when we were out hunting Dragons and saving damsels in our game. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
VAJ Posted December 6, 2007 Share Posted December 6, 2007 So I finally stopped being a procrastinating faggot and went to buy this book. And now lulu is messing up. Tried 4 times. Theres no telling how long it will be before I try again. p.s. Why are you posting the chapters? Aren't you trying to sell the book? I don't get it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
WorldBench Posted December 6, 2007 Share Posted December 6, 2007 bought the book, just finished it, loved it good shit Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 6, 2007 Author Share Posted December 6, 2007 So I finally stopped being a procrastinating faggot and went to buy this book. And now lulu is messing up. Tried 4 times. Theres no telling how long it will be before I try again. p.s. Why are you posting the chapters? Aren't you trying to sell the book? I don't get it. Don't give up Vaj. Daddy needs some new shoes. I'm only posting 13 or so of 33 chapters. I'll finish here right when it gets juicy. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 7, 2007 Author Share Posted December 7, 2007 Chapter 7 Although I stayed away from the park for awhile, that didn't stop the rest of they guys from going down there. Frankie continued to travel to the park almost daily. It was the closest place for him to play basketball which he loved with all of his heart. A day for Frank without sports was like peanut butter without jelly. Good, but not great. On some of his recent trips down to the park, Frank played ball with a new guy in the neighborhood. A small Irish kid that had just moved onto West 107th. Rumor had it that his size was no issue out on the court and that he was running circles around most of the guys out there. He was well under five feet tall but was taking on the best of the ballers from the 'hood and winning. Basketball was a big part of life growing up in the city, almost a status symbol in certain circles. The more you “schooled” people on the court, the more respect you got off the court. This new kid, another guy named Roy was earning his respect at Baltic Park quickly. It was only a matter of time before I pulled my tail out from between my legs and ventured back down the hill to the park. Frank was heading down there to meet up with this new Roy, I tagged along to see what all the hype was about with this new kid. When we got there Roy was already in a full court game. He was the not only the smallest guy on the court but the whitest guy too. He stood out like a beacon on a radar map. His bright red hair blurred around the court. Roy's small stature allowed for him to zigzag and fake out most players on the court easily every time. All you would see was pale white arms and a basketball fly by all the big dudes on the court. Next thing you knew all his team would simultaneously chant “Ooooooooh!” as the ball left Roy's hands and glided through the net. The hype was true. Roy finished his game up and came over to talk to Frankie. As soon as Roy opened his mouth to speak, out came the voice of a black man from the deepest of ghettos. This small, whiter than white, Irish kid talks like he grew up in Compton. “Yo wassup' main!” Roy said as he held out his hand for some dap. Half of me wanted to laugh as I shook his hand. It was like one of those old karate movies with the American voice overs. Roy's voice over was being done by some cat named J-Rock or something I was sure. “Yall bouta' get down on dis nex' one?” Roy asked. I sat out and watched as Frankie jumped in on Roy's team. The two easily mopped up the other guys on the court in no time. The whole time sitting there I analyzed Roy. Where was he from? Was he trouble? Naw, he's too small to be trouble. Why does he talk like that? Is he putting on a big front? Well he lives on Frankie's street now so I'm sure we'll be seeing more of him. I was right. Roy began to come around off of the basketball court. He was introduced to Dan and the other Roy a few days later as well. He got dubbed with the title of “Lil' Roy” since we already had “Big Roy” in stock. The two Roys made a close bond right away, not only did they carry the same name but they had the same vices. Both Roys like to partake in the smoking of Ganja with a passion. It was no time flat that we saw the two side by side and red eyed on the regular. Dan and I had never tried smoking weed and “Big Roy” never really did it around us at this point. To be quite honest, I was deathly afraid of the idea of it at the time. I thought that people who smoked that stuff were criminals and they went into some crazed zombie-like state from it like what you saw in those old 1940's videos about drugs. Didn't sound like a good time to me. Oh well, to each his own. We now had a brand spanking new hang out spot to explore as well. Lil' Roy had moved into a brick side-by-side on the end of West 107th. He lived there with his Grandma and Grandpa who were his legal guardians. They were a funny couple, the classic Grandparents all the way. Roy called them “Pap” and “Gram”. Pap was the kinda' guy that you could picture riding a Harley down Route 66, smoking a Pall Mall in his younger years. He had a gravelly voice and wore uncombed white hair on the sides of his balding head. Step into his domain and get ready for a barrage of quick witted insults if you left yourself open for it. This old man was a hellfire in his prime years I'm sure. Gram reminded me of Mrs. Claus, a small round lady with glasses and a big smile. She was soft spoken and well mannered. The kind of lady you could picture with a tray of fresh baked cookies in hand at all times. On our first visit over there I couldn't help but wonder where Roy's parents were, I'm sure we were all thinking that as we hung out. It was too soon to ask though, I'm sure it would come to light eventually. “Yo wassup Pap!” Roy yelled as we walked into the house. “Ah go to Hell!” Pap answered back jokingly. “And get me a beer while you're up!” came rolling right after. I sat down cautiously on the couch taking in this strange rapport. Pap had a recliner in the corner that you could find him in 20 hours of the day. He was long since retired and spent his time drinking Genesee and watching black and white cowboy movies. This year we gained a few new friends and a Roy had once again captured our full attention. Our group of friends were now at Lil' Roy's house as often as we could be. His place was swank by our standards. In the kitchen was a shelf with every kind of cereal imaginable. This was especially to mine and Dan's liking, we had already eaten the first Roy out of house and home. In the fridge was a steady supply of Pepsi and Kool-Aid. It was like a buffet kids style. We weren't in it just for the perks though, Roy was a cool dude. I got used to his personality quickly and soon his drawling Ebonics just bounced right off of me. Roy had ended up in our neck of the woods after leaving an outer ring suburb named Willoughby. To this day I don't know why he and his family chose to leave a suburb and move into our slummy neighborhood and it never really came up. I guess some things were best left unspoken. Pap would pack up the car once in awhile and take some of us guys back out to Roy's old stomping grounds with him for a change of scenery. We'd go to the skating rink out there on the weekends and hang out. We had one here in the city but it was too dangerous to go to. If you wore the wrong color on the wrong night, you were a dead man. Massive gang fights constantly broke out at our local rink, sometimes even escalating into gunfire. Going out to Willoughby was a breath of fresh air for me, I had been confined to my city block for so long that I forgot how the rest of the world lived. Things were laid back there. You didn't have to look over your shoulder every five minutes. Of course you had kids out there that thought they were tough guys but once we got there they saw what it was really about. We'd walk in there acting like the coolest of the cool. We'd put up a front like we were made of steel. We even came equipped with synchronized dance moves, beat that! The Willoughby skating rink would be home to my next romantic endeavor as well. Roy would always call people to meet us up there when we'd come out. To the girls there, we were exotic and edgy. Big city boys like you see on t.v. A little chick with big blue eyes caught my attention on one of our visits, Crystal Jenkins was her name. A petite girl with one of those cool bob haircuts that were the rage in the late eighties and early nineties. She was friends with a girl named Penny who Lil' Roy used to hang out with when he went to visit. When I met Crystal up there on weekend I was a nervous wreck, I was used to dealing with hoodrat girls adorned in ghetto fashion and low I.Q.'s. She was different, very self respecting, a little shy, not what I was used to at all. She was the real thing. We hung out all night getting to know each other and as the night ended she told me she wanted to see me again soon and gave me a small kiss. I told her how far I lived and that it would be hard. She said we'd figure it out and asked me for my number. I was embarrassed to tell her I didn't have a phone, I think I made up some lame excuse and got away with it. I told her I'd call her from Roy's house in a few days and with that we said our good byes. I rode all the way home with the guys giving me a hard time about it. “Ooooh, look who's got a woman!” All the way back to Cleveland. I think Pap even joined in at one point. A few days later I held true to my word. I don't think I had ever really called a girl on the phone to talk before, unless my aunt counts. I became a wreck all over again. To make matters worse, I had a whole studio audience of friends at my side. Cordless phones were few and far between in this day and age so privacy was hard to come by. I would stretch the phone cord all the way into a neighboring room to try and get some peace from the heckling in the background. Just when I thought I was safe, I'd feel a tug on the already pulled-too-tight phone cord. It would shoot out of my hand, hit the floor and go flying back to my buddies. Once they got their grubby paws on the phone it was over. “Hey Crystal, did you know Bobby drools a lot?” Just one of the many factoids my friends were so kind to throw out there. This was going to be one tough long distance relationship. After that first time seeing Crystal, I talked to her every few days. Sometimes for hours on end. Unfortunately I usually wouldn't see her for weeks at a time and when I did, it was only at the skating rink. We did get to know each other very well over the phone but as time passed we both realized how futile the relationship was. Sadly enough, we called it quits after about three months. We stayed friends for years after. I even went to see her newborn child when I was nineteen. Wherever she is, I hope she's doing well. Back in the neighborhood life went on. It was now Fall again and we all were becoming nervous with the idea of going to High School next year. We were beginning to experience all of the pre-teen wonders of the world. Dating, peer pressure and acne just to name a few. It was a strange time of change for everybody around my way. Things would end up getting very strange for me though. On one of my periodic check-ins to my mother I rounded the corner to see her sitting out front of our building in a small white car with an older man. What was this about? Did mom pick up a gentleman caller? Was he a social worker? Dan and I hopped off of the bike he was doubling me on to take a closer look. I curiously walked up to the passenger side of the car and loomed in. I looked straight past my mother and locked eyes with the stranger. He was older and kinda' rough and wrinkled. He had sad but piercing eyes. “Who the hell are you?” I asked defensively. “Bobby watch your mouth!” my mom whispered. The stranger looked like he was about to cry when I spoke those words to him. “Bobby...I'm your father. Don't you remember me son?” I locked up instantly, it had been years. I actually had forgotten what my own father looked like. Dan's jaw dropped as I looked over to him. As far as we were concerned, we were looking at a ghost. “I ran into him at the store! Can you believe it?” said my mom. “Can I come up and talk to you for awhile?” said my dad. I went to speak and fire and lightning came crashing out instead. “You think you can walk back in to my life now?!?! Get the hell out of here before I kick your ass, old man!!!” I screamed. He opened his car door and expanded out of the small hatchback. He was still as big as I remembered. “Son, I want to take you with me for awhile. I'm going to Nevada and I want you to come.” he said. It was like he was deaf to all that I had said already. I screamed back instantly “Are you insane? Don't call me your God damned son either! You're nothing to me!” I clenched my fists and was ready to take him down if he came any closer. He had left without a reason almost ten years before and thought he could just walk back in. This was becoming more surreal by the minute. I got a hold of my emotions and told Dan it was time to go. We hopped on his bike and took off. I could hear my mother crying as we sped away but I never looked back. This would be the last I'd see of my father. Things were still going from bad to worse on the home front beside the whole dad thing. Mom was walking around like a zombie these days. I would find out sometime later that she was taking strong prescription pills. I'm sure they weren't from her doctor though, she probably got them from some “street corner pharmacist.” I couldn't bare to look at her anymore, most of the time she didn't even make sense when she spoke. Her sentences would just trail off into babble on most occasions. I hated what she had become, I hated myself for being a part of her life. I soon confirmed my suspicions about her “medicine” she had been taking as well. There were a group of low-lives that hung out around the corner of my street and were notorious for selling drugs and were into God knows what else. They varied in ages from teenagers to forty year old men. All of them looked like they were fresh from the joint. One stood out in particular, a tall dark skinned man by the name of Buck. Buck was one of the older ones of the group and looked like he had seen better days. His eyes had yellowed from some sort of sickness, his skin was leathery and scarred. If these guys were a pack of dogs, Buck would've been the Doberman with the chewed up ear. I was away most of the time, but heard through the grapevine that Buck had been making visits to my apartment to see my mother. This infuriated me instantly! The problem was I was too small to confront him directly. I had to catch him there, hopefully selling her whatever and the call the cops on him. Who knows if that would even work though. I put the word out to people to let me know if they saw him go into my building. A few days later I was told that he was seen going into my place only a little bit ago. I ran home as quick as I could, it was time to deal with this scumbag. I went to my door. I couldn't hear anyone talking. I didn't have a key so I knocked and yelled for my mother to let me in. No answer. I knew she was there, she never went anywhere at this point. I banged on the door full force. I was now using the bottom of my fist and screaming “I know you're in there!!! Let me in!!!” at the top of my lungs. I heard unintelligible babble coming from the living room. I took my shoulder to the door. After a few good smashes with my side, I let loose a barrage of kicks. The old door blasted open and I stormed in to find Buck on top of my mother on the couch. She was clearly passed out on something and he was taking advantage of the situation. Everything in my vision blurred around me. “Get the fuck off of her...now.” He looked like he was on something too. I ran into the kitchen and got the biggest knife I could find and came back, putting it inches from his face and said “Get the fuck off of her” again. My voice this time was low and calm. My mom sort of snapped to for a minute and tried slurring out something. I told her to shut the hell up. Buck knew this was for real, he got up and off of her without saying a word. He walked to the door and never looked back to see if I was going to attack him. It seemed as if it was like this was a familiar scenario to him. I could only pray that it wasn't. I left without saying a word to my mother, I was too disgusted for words. I packed up a bag of essentials and would not be seen here again for several weeks. I walked in a fog, I felt sick and emotionless all at once. This was it. This had drained the last bit of anything I had left for her. As far as I was concerned she was on her own now. I never told anyone what had happened. I just left and put it in the darkest corner of my mind and locked it away. It changed me forever though, it felt like something had been removed from my very being. As far as I was concerned, I was just pushing fourteen but was on my own. I took my things and made way to Big Roy's house once again. I knew I'd be safe there. I'm sure they knew something was wrong when they saw me show up the way I did, I was dead faced and silent, they never asked though. I stayed there for about a week until I felt my welcome start to wear off. I don't blame them, everyone needs their own space. Roy's mom was truly like a mother to me but there's only so much you can take of a scraggly stray kid at your house all the time. I used to stay for a night or two, this time I just showed up, sat down, and waited for...That's just it. I didn't even know what to expect next. School was a non-factor at this point in my mind. I went when I could and made sure I showed up enough to keep the system off my ass. Miss two days, show up for one. The first “new me” was trying his hardest to be cool and popular in school. This reformed second version was cold to the world and radiated anger. I could care less what my peers thought of me at this point. What I cared about now was where I was going to sleep the next night and where I could scrounge up some food. From Big Roy's I bounced around a lot, I went to Mark and Danny's for a few nights, shot over to Bert's, crashed at Lil' Roy's on the weekends, made a pit stop at Frankie's. These were hard times and it was beginning to show. My new and improved, finely groomed appearance was going to hell at a speedy rate. I needed a haircut, my clothes were dirty and I'm sure I didn't smell that great. I would sneak in showers here and there at my friend's houses but I couldn't everyday or their parents would know something was up. I wondered if I was destined to be a drifter forever at this point, follow in the footsteps of my mother. Weeks passed and I got word through the grapevine that my mother that she was becoming more ill than she ever was. They said that she needed to have long-term care and treatment soon. This meant she might forfeit the apartment and go into Hospice care for her remaining time. In my earlier days, I would've panicked about the situation, now I just took it all in and got ready for whatever. I swallowed my pride and went to see her again though, who knows how much longer she had left?. She was bad, Weak and hunched over. Her skin was hanging off of the backs of her forearms. Her cheeks were sunken in and her eyes almost appeared to have a haze over them. It was like she was walking dead. A part of me did feel for her, I never showed it though. I returned to the house to take care of the matters at hand, I was now certain that she wasn't long for this Earth. I might as well help get things in order. Every word that came out of her mouth now sounded like it was forced. When she walked, she had to hold the wall with one hand and slide it down the hall. We sat down one day and she told me about her plan to go into Hospice care for the terminally ill. I listened as she said “I can't hold down this apartment much longer. I'll take you to a shelter, they'll get you a social worker. You'll end up somewhere.” A tear trailed down my face. I couldn't tell if it was from fear, anger or both. I just stood up and walked into another room. I thought this was still all hyped up. She was clearly sick but I figured she was just teaching me a lesson for leaving so long. The next few nights I barely slept. Where the hell was I going to go if this was for real? What's going to become of me? All I can do now is wait. I waited and watched the world go by. Every happy family I saw made me want to walk up to them and punch them in the face. I hated life. I hated myself and my mother. I knew I needed to do something productive before this feeling eats me alive. I thought about my artistic abilities and started to focus heavily on it. This, if anything could be the one thing to save me. It was only when I put pen to paper that I felt that dark energy lift off of me. Art would save me, I was sure of it. From those days on I dedicated my life to my art, and my art alone. Everything else took a back burner. It used to be just a hobby, now it would be my crutches and my therapy. I wasn't concerned about running around the wood chip field anymore, I could care less about what was going on at the park. I filled pages a day with drawings in my sketchbooks. Some depicted monstrous creations, drawings like this helped release the pent up rage. Other drawings were complex intertwined designs, some people said they reflected my life symbolically. This was my only escape from the world cast upon me. If I didn't have it, I don't think I'd be sitting here today. Soon after all our talks, my mother met with a social worker and made her plans to go into Hospice care. It's not like a normal hospital, most of them are refurbished houses. It's very similar to a nursing home in many ways, it's a place for the residents to go out with dignity and at peace. This would be how she would spend her days soon, sitting in a house full of people waiting to die. The reality of the matter had now set in fully. Anger turned back into complete and total fear. Fear for my life and future. Before I knew it, I was being packed up and sent to a shelter once again. A place called West Haven. This time without my mother though, this was a place just for children with no other options. It was located on West Boulevard on the West side of Cleveland. From the outside it looked like a normal turn of the century house, inside it had been completely renovated into a dorm-like facility. It had several offices for social workers as well that were on site around the clock. My mother dropped me off at this place and told me that she was going into her care a few days later. The apartment and all things with it were once again being left behind. All I had to my name now was a few bags of clothes, some trinkets and my sketchbooks. Yet another shelter, these places were all too familiar at this point. As my mother sat with the social worker, I took a lay of the land. It didn't look too bad for what it was. It wasn't as institutional as the other places I had been at before. There were kids from all walks of life littered around the interior. Most were keeping busy in one way or another, playing cards, watching t.v. and writing in journals. I looked at each child and wondered what their stories were. Strangely enough, I felt alright about this place. I walked back over to the social worker and my mother and said “Well this isn't bad and I can still go see my friends from here!” The social workers facial expression changed quickly. “Well we have policies here. One of them is you can only leave the premises unaccompanied to go to school.” No...no, no way. My friends were all I had left in life. I couldn't do this. I freaked out instantly. I looked to my mom, grabbed her arm and said “Please don't leave me here, I refuse to stay here. I need to go back to the neighborhood!” I broke down into tears. For the first time in who knows how long I saw my mother shed tears in sadness for me. “Mrs. Rodich, we can't force him to stay here once you leave. We have an open door policy.” said the worker. My mother looked to me and said “Bobby...please, please work with me here. I need help. I'm sick. Please stay here for awhile. Just give it a chance. We'll work this all out.” Her pitiful stare burned straight through the shell that had formed around me. After a few minutes I calmed down and decided to go with it. At least I knew I could leave whenever I wanted. Even if I did though, where would I go? I got taken to my room shortly after. All the boys were on one end of the house, all the girls on the other. Once I got my things put away and I was ready to look around. The one thing that made me feel a little weird were the alarms on all the windows. If you could just leave out the front door, why couldn't you open a window? I later found out that kids were smoking in their rooms and sneaking out at night through the windows, this is what caused that safety measure to be enforced. I wasn't going to be trying anything like that, I just wanted to get in and get out of here as smooth as possible. I got there in time to throw my stuff down and meet up for dinner. The dining room had large tables that held all the kids and staff together. There were about twenty of us all together, if memory serves me right. I was nervous at first when I came down the stairs to sit at the table. Everybody, kids and staff was very friendly and welcoming though, I guess they were familiar with the idea of new faces just appearing out of nowhere. After dinner all the kids got to hang out together and talk or whatever. Most of the kids were in there because their parents abused them or their living conditions were deemed unacceptable by the State. A few were there because of budding severe emotional problems. Those kids just kind of stayed to themselves. Right off the bat I made a few friends, we talked about our situations and traded war stories. I was embarrassed about my dealings with homelessness, so I sort of skirted around the issue. I stayed vague and just made it seem like there were problems at home. This place could've been a lot worse but it was still a far cry from home. That first night there I just laid there sleepless. How long was I going to be here? Where am I going next? Am I going to become one of those orphan kids you see in movies with the big floppy hat, dragging around a mop? My stomach began to hurt. Reality was kicking my ass. I woke up Saturday morning feeling like I had been dragged through the mud the whole day before. On the weekend there they had activities to do, basketball in the backyard, stuff to keep you busy. I tried to keep to myself and draw a little for the time being. I met another guy that liked to draw as well, so we sat at the dining room table and hit the paper that morning. The one thing I didn't realize about this place was that every action you take is being monitored by hidden, watchful eyes. I had a tendency to draw monsters and weapons because that's what I thought was awesome as a young boy. The social workers took it as me having a violent personality and were keeping all the collected data on me. I found out because I overheard them talking in the office about me one day while I was passing by. “Robert seems to create aggressive pieces of artwork. The other night I heard him talking to another boy about how to make a flamethrower out of a squirt gun!” Okay, so I did figure out how to construct a flamethrower out of a Super Soaker, a coat hanger, some nail polish remover and a lighter. Big deal. That doesn't mean I was going to build one and come in playing Viet Nam on everybody. The next day all workers had to lock up their lighters and sign them out. This was ridiculous, I was outraged. I understand that they get all types in there but I wasn't the violent type. I called my mother who was now at Hospice Care. “Mom I can't stay here, they think I'm crazy.” I told her. “Honey, I don't know what to tell you, I'm stuck here now,” she replied. I got off the phone angered. I wondered if they tapped phone calls as well? I stayed a few more days but my emotions were now showing. I contacted Lil' Roy and told him I was coming back to the neighborhood even if I had nowhere to come back to. He told me he would let me stay for the weekend and sneak me in for a few night during the week. This was all I needed, I was out. I packed up quickly and went to the social worker. “I...I'm leaving. I'm going home.” She looked at me confused and said “Your mom gave up the apartment.” Basically implying that I had no home. “That's okay” I told her “I've got friends that will take care of me.” she tried to talk me out of it for a few minutes but it was falling upon deaf ears. I left hastily and strided down the street to my neighborhood that was only a few blocks away. I made it there in about a half hour or so and I came up to 107th lugging a big bag of clothes, completely beaten and ready for some well deserved rest. I stashed the clothes at Dan's place and then went to Roy's house. Pap asked me what I was doing there, he had heard that I was staying at that shelter I guess. I lied and told him I was out for the weekend. Lil' Roy took that as a lead to ask if I could spend the night. Pap agreed, but I think he felt in his bones that something wasn't quite right. That night I did call my mom to let her know I had left and was okay. She wasn't happy with my decision but what could she do? I told her that I would come see her in a few days and hung up. I knew the coming weeks were going to be turbulent and that I might have just sealed my own fate. I stayed at Lil Roy's for the weekend and continued to sneak in late at night to sleep there for the coming week. I was fortunate enough that it was nearing Summer again so I just stayed outside all day and hung out with everyone. Once nightfall hit, I'd wait for Pap and Gram to go to bed, then I would creep up to Roy's room and crash on the floor. I had to sleep almost under his bed in case Pap would come snooping in the room in the middle of the night. It was uncomfortable but I had a roof over my head at least. Eventually Pap caught me sneaking in and tore me and Roy a new asshole about it. I stayed that last night but was out in the morning. Roy wanted to sneak me in again but I refused the offer. I didn't want to take him down with me. It was the weekend again by this point so I crashed at Dan's house this time around. Dorothy was suspicious of me being out in the neighborhood by myself I'm sure but never brought it up to me. Once the weekend ended I was off again. Next stop Big Roy's house. I went there and explained my situation to Roy's mom, Debbie openly. She had seen it all in life so I knew she would sympathize. I was right, she told me I could stay for awhile...”but not all Summer, damn it!” I felt relieved. This was as close to a home as I was going to get for awhile. There we were, surrounded by another Summer. The wood chip field had a whole new generation of young'ns running around in it. We didn't care though, they could have it. We were now onto bigger and better things. Dan was really developing his musical talents as of late and did his best to scrounge up money to buy recording equipment. I always had my nose buried into one of my sketchbooks these days. Frankie was out 24/7 playing any number of sports somewhere and Big Roy, Lil' Roy, and Dave were smoking lots of pot together. Mark and Danny were still around too, we'd still go over to their house and cause chaos every few days. Bert and Josh would come wandering down the block and hang out with us as well. The hillbillys I mentioned that used to live in Dan's building had moved over the last season. Before they left, they made quite a name for themselves. Billy and Richie decided it was a good idea to rob all of the scrap aluminum from the abandoned apartments next door one day and sell it for profit. The whole family used to get into giant fights on the front porch and carry it out into the wood chip field on the regular. One time Billy even got a Louisville Slugger whipped at him by his own father. All you saw was Billy come flying out of his place and across the field. His dad was hightailing right behind him cussing at the top of his lungs. Billy clearly had the speed advantage on his old man. Just then his dad stopped running, aimed the bat at billy that he was carrying and sent it flying the way an Aborigines would a boomerang. We all watched in sheer amazement as that bat spun through the air and connected square in between Billy's shins from almost a hundred yards. Billy got tripped up and went down like a sack of potatoes. His dad walked up calmly and dragged him back into the house. Who knows what happened from there? Nonetheless, they were gone now and we couldn't care less. They left as abruptly as they came, gone to raise hell in some other part of town. A much more entertaining group moved in shortly after, a boy by the name of Arthur and his mother. Arthur was right around our age but didn't quite fit in with us. They were another Southern family, here to replace the ones that just left. (Now when I say “Southerners” I don't want you people in say, South Carolina or Atlanta to get made at me. These were straight up Bayou type people.) Arthur was interesting to say the least. He was a pudgy kid who was always dirty. He constantly had multiple stains on him somewhere from his head to his toes. He also had a thing for wearing spandex biker shorts with no underwear. (Nice visual, eh?) For some reason though, we welcomed him into the group with open arms, he made us look good at least. He became the slightly younger, tag-a-long kid of the bunch. When he wasn't being a dirty weird kid, he was telling tall tales. He had this story he used to tell, I guess to try and fit in about how his mom was supposed to inherit a million dollars any day. He said when he got it they were going to take everyone they knew on this fabulous vacation and blah, blah, blah. We just listened to his stories and laughed. Oddly enough though, they did move out that very Summer that they moved in without any notice. (Hey Arthur, if you're rich now brotha', hook me up!) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 7, 2007 Author Share Posted December 7, 2007 For those of you who have bought and read the book, please leave a review at the book's site: www.lulu.com/content/1017033 Or just write one if you like what you've read on here so far. Thanks again, Your pal Bojangles. P.S. I know a lot of you are waiting for it to get "grafftastic" ...It does, I promise. It just builds up to it in the next few chapters. P.P.S. Leave some comments in here too! I see you in here reading. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
basekone Posted December 7, 2007 Share Posted December 7, 2007 yo i'm still lovin this shit, just bein lazy and readin the chapters in here until you stop, then i'll probably stop bein lazy and buy it-- it's still a good read though and gives me some good ideas (and motivation) for writing my own. p.s. i don't know how you managed to not kill buck with that knife, i can only imagine how much self control that took Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
VAJ Posted December 7, 2007 Share Posted December 7, 2007 I finally bought it... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
WorldBench Posted December 7, 2007 Share Posted December 7, 2007 bump for being a good book Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Frate_Raper Posted December 8, 2007 Share Posted December 8, 2007 just ordered it, better sign one for me dick! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 8, 2007 Author Share Posted December 8, 2007 We would meet another new “player” in the game this Summer as well. The once abandoned building next door to Dan's house had now been restored over the last few months and was ready for tenants. In no time flat people started moving in as soon as the for rent signs went up. When you've got seven or eight broke, bored kids all in one place, anything becomes entertainment. We would pile up on Dan's front porch and watch the new people move in one by one. We must've looked like a band of thieves casing them out to them. We just wanted to see who they were and what kinda' junk they had. One family stood out in particular, a husband and wife duo in their late twenties. Upon moving in Dan somehow quickly discovered that the husband, Roland was an avid Dungeons & Dragons player and was looking for people who were the same. Jackpot! We let him know that we had the bug too and Roland immediately invited our whole crew over for expansive weekend long games. The great part about it for Dan was that Roland was the Dungeon Master now so Dan got to play the game as a character. Shiny new toy syndrome all over again. We spent all our time there and Roland loved it. His wife must've been a patient woman to have a house full of teens over at all hours of the night. Roland was a man shrouded in mystery outside of the game, I never knew where he moved from originally and I never knew more than his first name. I didn't even know what his job was or if he even had one. I just knew that he liked D&D, good enough for me. I would find out one answer in the coming weeks, Roland had no job. This was due to some sort of accident he had that was still pending in the legal system. I guess this would explain the neck brace he wore constantly. I was a young dumb kid and never questioned the thing before that. This meant he had tons of time on his hands to come up with elaborate quests and characters for us as opposed to when Dan did it. We were in heaven. At any given time you could find ten of us piled around his dining room table playing our hearts out. Dana and some of the other girls even got in on the action after awhile. I guess they wanted to see what was so great that could keep an army of young men in the house all day in the middle of Summer. The good thing about Roland's place too was that he would let me crash here and there. This took some stress of off Debbie. I'm sure any adult could've used a break from me once in a while back then. I was getting to that age where my voice was changing so it cracked a lot. I also talked really loud for some reason, it drove everyone nuts. To top it off, I was a growing boy so I was eating six meals a day or more. Yeah, she deserved a break! It was the middle of Summer now, I had been going to see my mother regularly at Hospice Care. She was happy where she was and I was happy for her. It was a small house tucked away off of Storer Avenue in the heart of the city. The house held her and six other women in similar conditions. She had been going to the Hospital down the street and was receiving countless treatments lately, nothing was going to save her, these treatments were just prolonging the inevitable. She actually did look a little bit better in a way, maybe she was finally at peace with herself. On one of my visits I got some unexpected news, it seems my mother had hit a remission! She was getting increasingly stable. She would never hit one hundred percent but she was getting no worse for the time being. They said if her status held for a few more weeks she could be back on the streets. All that we had been through together and individually had brought my mother and I closer together than ever before. We were by far over it all but a flicker of love showed in our hearts again. It was a good feeling. My mother in fact did come out of Hospice Care shortly after she broke the news. She got enough money from the State to get on her feet as well. Mom managed to rent an apartment back in the neighborhood again for the two if us, looked like my couch surfing days were almost washed up. I couldn't believe it when she told me, she had rented the place that the hillbillys and Arthur had lived in previously. That's right, the apartment right in Dan's building! The news was getting better by the minute. I finally had a place to call home again. We had nothing to furnish it with but it was as good as a luxury hotel to me the way it was. When we moved in all we had was a hospital style bed for my mother, a black and white thirteen inch TV and a hotplate to cook on. I brought two bags of clothes and she brought a few bags as well. The place looked huge because we had nothing to fill it with and when you talked your voice would echo around the rooms. People in our neighborhood donated items for the house and we ended up getting the bare necessities. Mom had enough money left over to buy me a bed for my room and a cheap little dinette set. It all felt surreal. I had to keep saying to myself “This is your home” every time I entered. I actually got to live my life like a normal teenager for the coming months. We were all growing up and becoming individuals but you still never saw anyone from our group alone. We still all hung out everyday. These days it was less hide and seek and more macking on girlies at the mall. All the guys in the neighborhood were hitting that age all at the same time. Together we were like a pack of hungry dogs on the prowl. We would spend hours on end at the various malls around the area. The main one I made base at was Parmatown mall in Parma. It's a suburb about a half an hour South of Cleveland. Mark and Danny's family packed up shop from our neighborhood and had moved over that way anyways so it gave me a place to go when I wasn't hanging out in the food court. I'd hop on the number 45 bus and go see them on the weekends just about every week. Even though it was just a few miles away, Parma was like a whole other world to me. The people there were not like the ones from my area at all. The haircuts were different, the slang was different. It all felt like a bad fit at first. Mark and Danny had made a ton of friends by the time I started going out there to visit and every weekend was like a party there, just like it used to be out by me. The house rules from our neighborhood still applied, which meant there were no rules. Their dad would go off and do his thing and we would have full run of the house. Over time I looked past the haircuts and slang variations and made some good friends there as well. Sure they seemed a little goody-goody compared to what I was used to but deep down they were alright. Just like in our area, the kids here all had their pack that they ran with. A few of them still stand out in my head to this day. There was a little blond kid named Lil' Matt who was smaller than Lil' Roy and was always over at Mark and Danny's. He was one of those guys that made up for his size by being down to do anything, a daredevil at heart. I remember him always taking any challenges thrown at him. Next up was a lanky redhead girl named Tiffany. She was a bit tomboyish' but was “girl next door” cute at the same time. Her and I ended up sharing a few smooches here and there that Summer. The one that stood out the most was Mark Porach. Mark Porach was the kinda' kid that you would look at and think “This guy's gonna' grow up to be a used car salesman or a lawyer.” He had dark features, a lot of gel in his hair, sorta stocky and always had a half guilty, half surprised look on his face. Like a deer in the headlights with a devils tail tucked behind him. Mark was one of those guys from the 'burbs that wanted so badly to be from the 'hood. He walked the walk and talked the talk even though he was never a part of it. His dad was a well paid Psychologist or something to that effect and they lived in a high-rise condo right by the mall. Mark should have been in with the jocks of his school or even the computer nerds but chose to throw out the baseball mitt and cd-rom and put on baggy jeans and a gold chain. When he wasn't hanging around at Mark's house he was rolling around with a bunch of guys from there that had a lowrider car club. Mark was a lot to take in at first but he grew on me. Plus he had one thing going for him, he had the girls and the places to go, making him a key player in the grand scheme of things. He would also eventually introduce me to a few life-long friends. We all like girls but Mark Porach had them on the brain 24/7! Not that that's a bad thing, just sayin'. He was always taking us to random houses to meet girls. One of these girls was a skinny little firecracker named Jenny Stack. Jenny was a tiny little Italian chick with a huge personality. (Think of a hot version of Carla from “Cheers”.) She could dish it out and take it when it came to hanging out with the guys. She knew all the guys wanted her but handled it with style and grace. If that didn't work, she'd kick you in the balls. She loved the attention and we loved her. Eventually all of us constantly surrounding her must've been to much for her so she introduced us to some of the girls she went to school with. I had to report back to my neighborhood about these findings, Parma was overflowing with hot girls ripe for the picking! In our neighborhood we were lucky to see one descent girl a month and she was probably taken by some gangsta' dude who would stab you for looking her way. I told Dan and Bert first of my reconnaissance and before I could say “Let's go”, we were on the 45 again the following weekend. Mark's house was now the local party spot. Girls of all shapes and sizes came there to have a good time, guys came there for the girls. There were always teenage kids in every room of the house. The music blasting in the background just became muffled background noise over all of our voices screaming to each other throughout the house. I would stay for whole weeks sometimes. It would get to the point that I'd wake up one morning and go “what day is it?” Someone would yell “Thursday!” I'd scurry for my shoes and head back to Cleveland before any missing person posters went up. Parma was my home all Summer for every weekend that season, I liked living the suburban life vicariously. I used to make fun of places like this but it was fun and peaceful. No drug dealers at the park, no gang fights on the corner. Just good times, the way life was supposed to be at this age. The partying in Parma couldn't go on forever sadly enough. School was right around the corner in the coming weeks and I was assigned to West Tech, a local High School within walking distance. Dan was going to John Haye across town. The other guys were still finishing up Junior High at their own individual schools. One good thing was that Big Roy had now moved to West 107th so now he was right in the 'hood with the rest of us knuckleheads. Things were going great except my mother's condition began to worsen again. This time not only physically but mentally. I think she was coming to terms with the fact that she was in fact going to die soon no matter how many remissions she had. We all know we're going to die one day, we can say it over and over, we just don't know when it's coming. She might as well had her expiration date stamped on her head. It was taking a toll on her sense of reality, and It seemed like no sooner than she had gotten out of treatment that she was doomed to go right back in. I used to get scared when things would get to this point. Now I just waited with clenched fists and gritted teeth. It's all I could do. Besides, I had bigger fish to fry. In no time at all it was time to begin High School and this was my last chance at not screwing up my education completely. While most kids were worrying about what to wear on the first day, I was wondering where I was going home to in the coming weeks. Homelessness was inevitable again it seemed. It was no longer a possibility, it was becoming a way of life. I knew I had to try my best in High School even though I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, these were the years that would make or break me. West Tech was notorious for being one of the worst schools in the whole state on top of everything else to worry about. Not this side of town. Not this city. This school carried a reputation for violence and poor standards across county lines. I walked in on edge the first day, I heard this place was like prison, first impression was everything. If you came across like a punk in a hostile situation and too many people saw it, your days were numbered. This place was the meeting ground for every major gang in the city. Laotian Bloods, East Side Crips, Folks, Vicelords and every 'round the way street gang you could name all under one roof. Gang tags were scrawled around the outside of the building, students were crouched into outside corners smoking weed. Inside was no better, the main halls had riot gates that could be slammed shut by the school guards when the time called for it, which I'm guessing was quite often. Broken windows adorned the halls while mangled desks from classroom fights were propped up outside of dingy room doors. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, This place made Campbell Elementary back in Detroit look like Harvard. A parent of another student saw the look on my face and came up to me and said “Just punch someone in the face if they give you shit. You'll be okay!” He patted me on the shoulder and was on his way out casually. Did I really just get advice like that from an adult? I made my way into the office and got my schedule after my strange encounter and took what he said to heart. Not only did I have to learn my way around this place but I had to watch my back while doing it. Even through my recent bout with couch surfing and homelessness, I still made sure to work on my coolness game for my first impressions here. I wasn't about to go through four more years of being the weird kid. Once mom got the new place, I got a descent haircut again and managed to hold onto some of the clothes that were better than the sweatpants I rocked through Junior high. I had the outer shell to make it in here, did I have the soul to go with it? The first few days I just took it all in, it was like a war zone most of the time. Gangs hung in their factions at certain ends of the school as hall guards stood nearby watching their every move. If you weren't in a gang, you were into something. Drugs, scams, theft, it was all here and all being performed by children. The teachers had probably given up on the school a decade before or more and it showed in every aspect. They thought the stoners of the 80's were bad, they probably would've handed every one of them a joint on the way into school if they knew what they were in for in the 90's. I knew alone here I'd be singled out, I had to make friends fast. I looked for other people like me. Artists, creative types, someone I could relate to. They were few and far between but they were here. They stayed together and flew below the radar. Most of them were shy and elusive, they reminded me of myself two years ago. I wasn't going to take a step backwards into the ranks and join them in hiding, looks like I'd be on my own for awhile. I tried to tell my mom how crazy the school was but she didn't believe me. She just thought it was my wild imagination getting the best of me. She said “I knew people that went to that school, it's not that bad. To which I replied “That was probably forty years ago!” I was speaking to deaf ears though. Anytime I told people what school I was going to they made a face like they just drank a beer that was sitting out in the sun all day followed by a noise that you make when you get a papercut. Well at least I had the weekends! We were still going out to Parma on the weekends and we had become good friends with Jenny Stack and all of her girls. We began to hang out with Jenny's friends: Melissa, Sabrina and Christy more than Jenny as time went on. It was always Dan, Bert and me. Lil' Roy would come out on occasion but I don't think they really knew how to deal with his “hoodtastic stylings” and likewise he wasn't too sure about them. Dan and Sabrina had a blossoming relationship and it turned out that Christy had a thing for me. We'd go to any one of their houses late at night on the weekends and hang out until the wee hours. Sabrina's mom worked a night shift so it was easiest there, otherwise we'd have to sneak in and out of houses and that's no fun. It was funny though, Dan and Sabrina would be chatting it up and sitting shoulder to shoulder but I kept glancing over at Melissa while Christy was glancing at me. There was something about Melissa, the way she carried herself even at such a young age. She had the mannerisms of a well traveled woman in her prime. Her long, shiny dark hair trailed down around a face similar to Brooke Shield's. Melissa's eyes always had a sparkle in them and she was very animated when she spoke. Half the time Christy would be snuggling up to me but I was carrying on full conversations across the room with Melissa. She was a rare breed for girls that age. Very well informed on a lot of the same things that Dan and I found interest in. While most girls knew about makeup and pop music, she was ready to take on spirituality and physics. I'd always leave thirsty for more conversation with her. As the days passed, I talked to Melissa on a daily basis. I had to tell Christy I just wasn't interested, she took it well and we remained friends for years after. I still had no phone so I had to go to other people's houses to talk with her. Sometimes I would tie up my friend's phone lines for hours on end. Every time I got off the phone with her I felt a renewed faith in humanity so it was worth it (to me at least). When I wasn't talking to her I'd sit and wish that she lived in my neighborhood so that we could spend more time together. Melissa haunted my brain. I couldn't live in a dreamland all the time though, I still had school and I still had to worry about the place I was living at that I was on the verge of losing again. Life goes on. Everyday I had to wake up and go to West Tech I felt like the world was coming to an end. You could've strapped a phone to my ear with Melissa talking into it the whole time and I would still hate this school and the people in it. No use in complaining though, I guess it could be worse...In Iraq. It was morning and I began my routine twenty minute trek up to the front of the school. When I got there, I stopped and looked at the looming concrete box and then slowly proceeded through the big wooden front doors that reminded me of gates from a fortress. Up the stairs I went into the main hall and it was chaos as usual. Pushing, screaming, guys, girls, guards on edge waiting for something to jump off. I walked across the hall and down the stairs to home room, trying my best to stay out of everyone's way. As I was going down, an angry looking dude was coming up. Our eyes met and I could tell he was targeting me. Maybe he was having a bad day, maybe it was pick on whiteboy day, either way something was about to go down, I could feel it in my bones. We met midway on the stairs, his left shoulder connected with my right one. I wanted to fall backwards but I held my ground and pushed back forward. He said something to me which I didn't hear and I responded with “Man, don't fuckin' push me bitch!” out of nowhere, I even surprised myself with that one. This was it, fight or flee. I could get respect right here or be a punk. He looked like he was coming at me now, one push into his chest and he went down the stairs he just came up. His back smacked up against the wall on the turn and he just stood there looking up at me. I walked past him and stared him down, nothing else happened. I waited to hear the guards yell to me to come to them, it was never said though. Looks like I earned a fraction of respect that morning. Off to homeroom I went. I still had a thing for graffiti and would practice drawing it every morning in homeroom. Once in awhile I would take a stroll down 113 alley in my neighborhood and see what had been painted recently by all the guys I looked up to. I had no camera so I'd either bring a sketchbook and copy images or take mental notes. Kids in my class noticed the graffiti pieces I was drawing and were digging 'em, I actually ended up making a few friends by drawing their names for them once we got to talking. At the end of the day I felt like I had finally made some headway in this school, maybe it wasn't going to be as rough as I thought. I just had to hold my own and get some people behind me and things should be just fine. When I wasn't in school or talking to Melissa, I was keeping up with my mother. We had been at our new place for a few months now but honestly it just didn't feel like a home. It felt like a place where my stuff was at-at best. We never really made it our place. Mom was slipping again, the wheezing was returning and she had the spaced out look more and more often. She told me that she was probably going to have to go back into Hospice care again soon. I had already heard this conversation play in my head dozens of times already so I just nodded silently. This would be the year that I would really respect and understand the ideas of mortality and inevitability. I can't lie, I was becoming a bit of a pessimist from all these things on my plate. I thought to myself “Maybe it is good if she finally passes away. I'll finally be free from all this.” I'd shake it off quickly and hate myself for thinking like that. Like they say, be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Over the coming weeks I lived my life in waiting. When would my mother or her body say “enough is enough” and give up? It was all I thought about day and night, at play or in school. It was changing me inside as a person, I felt it and the people around me saw it as well. Winter was soon approaching and mom kept talking about how this would probably be her last Christmas on Earth; not what you want to hear around the holiday's. Even though she was right, I didn't want to hear it. She was still receiving money from social security for her illness and told me she wanted to get me something nice for Christmas this year. I had no idea what she had in store though. One day Dan, Big Roy and I all stopped at my house for a routine check up on my mother, all seemed well for the most part. She was acting a little funny though like she had something up her sleeve. I couldn't help but wonder what she was up to. “Why don't you boys come in here for a minute!” She yelled as she walked into her room. I thought “Oh boy, she's gonna' start preaching to us about something.” I walked in halfheartedly “Yes? What?” I asked. We all stood around her as she sat on the bed. “I have something for you Bobby, for Christmas.” There was a brown paper bag on the bed next to her. I figured it was probably something cheesy as I stared down at it. “Pick it up!” she said “It's yours.” The bag was heavier than expected. I opened it and my heart stopped. Was this a joke? Dan and Big Roy eagerly waited to see the contents. I looked at them both and dumped the bag out onto the bed for all to see. Out came pouring more money than I had ever seen in my life! “It's all the retroactive money Social Security owed me from when I first got sick.” she said quietly. “I've got no use for it where I'm going, it's yours.” My heart was racing as We counted it up. There were piles of bills all over the bed of every denomination. After about ten minutes I came up with an amount. “$2300.00” I said to everyone. Dan asked “What are you going to do with it?” I got a smile on my face and said “Let's go do some shopping.” The money made giant lumps in my pocket as I went to call the cab. I felt like I had won the lottery! It was bittersweet though, this money signified that it was no longer needed. An end was truly near. Either way, you give a poor kid from the ghetto this kind of cash and he's gonna' go nuts with it no matter where it's from. We hopped into a cab and took off to the mall. Dan, Big Roy and I. They didn't ask me for anything as we rolled but I'm sure they knew they were in the right place at the right time. I payed the cab driver the fare when we got there and tipped him a crisp twenty to wait for us. No argument there. I told him we'd be about an hour. We should have had “Staying Alive” playing for us through the mall intercom as we walked in, we were the kings of the mall. First stop, shoes. I walked in and picked out the ones I wanted and said to the guys “Go ahead, get yourselves some too.” The clerk looked as shocked as my friends. Five minutes later we were strutting in around the mall in our new kicks. Second stop, matching coats for all of us. Gotta' have my crew looking good if they were going to be walking with me. Cha-ching! Out the door again. We now were dragging bags and bags of stuff behind us in just a matter of minutes. We had just blown about seven or eight hundred dollars in ten minutes flat. All of a sudden I felt a grab at my arm, a man in a suit had a hold on me. Two security guards blocked Big Roy and Dan. “Sir, I need to ask you a few questions...Come with me.” What the hell was this? I can't spend my own money the way I want to? We were taken into some creepy back room of the mall where the interrogation went down. “Where did you get all the money from?” The suit asked. “My mom” I replied as offended as I could. “How much do you have to spend?” said the suit “That's none of you business!” I threw back. “This is my Christmas money! Do you want me to spend it in your mall or somewhere else?” If looks could kill he'd be vaporized. The suit stood quiet for a minute then opened the door for us to leave. “Be careful walking around with all that money.” were the last words I heard as I walked away. “Don't worry about me.” I muttered under my breath. Within an hour's time we had blown almost all of the money on everything from clothes to video games systems and everything in between. I bought everything in threes, so everyone got the same thing. When we got outside we loaded up our cab and took home our prizes. Of course when we got back to the neighborhood we had a bunch of unhappy friends waiting for us that missed the money train that day. I made it up to them by spending some of the last of the money on random junk for all of us. I think back now about how that money got wasted so quickly, within three days it was all gone. You can't give a kid that has been broke his whole life that kind of money and expect him to ration it out though. As the years went on, I regretted the squandering, I could've done life changing things with that money. Now I just think of it as a little piece of happiness in troubled times. Mom called me into her room a few days later to talk to me. “Bobby, I'm very sick. I can't stay in this house much longer. I need to go back to Hospice, but they don't have room right away.” I guess the money was intended to soften the blow. I was a bit confused by the sudden news. “Keep talking,” I said. “I can't stay here, I need full-time medical help. I'm going to check into the hospital and wait there until a room opens up at Hospice again.” So this was it, another home gone. I showed no emotion. “I've made arrangements for you. You're going to stay at Bert and Josh's house for a few weeks until we can figure out long term plans.” Wow. I never saw that coming, she actually had my back for once. I had no idea she had even talked to them. Definitely better than a shelter or a park bench! I packed the essentials as the days passed and got ready. I wasn't sure if I was coming back to my house anytime soon or ever again for that matter, so I made sure I took all my new stuff I had gotten just in case. I showed up at Bert and Josh's doorstep a few days later with my mother by my side. At first I liked the idea of being here for awhile but once I got to the door, I felt a little weird about it. I was getting to be old enough to realize that my mother was pushing me and her problems off on to other people and would continue to do so as long as she was alive. I had just felt what it was like to be a burden. I tried to not let it get to me and things were good the first few days, Bert's dad was even nice enough to give me lunch money every morning to take to school. It was a strange feeling having people care about me when I left in the morning, I just wished it was permanent. I wasn't used to that and I think it showed. I'd begin my walk to school and I couldn't help but think about my future the whole way. The scary part was that I couldn't picture anything after the day I was living in though, I couldn't fathom what life would be like in the years down the road. Sometimes I even wondered if I would still be alive. The way my life was at this point I pictured myself being dead or in jail by eighteen. I had lost all belief in myself now. This would become a time in my life where I'd make some awful life choices for myself due to this. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
screaming hand logo Posted December 8, 2007 Share Posted December 8, 2007 man i was about to go to bed and you post another chapter thanks asshole Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CELT Posted December 8, 2007 Share Posted December 8, 2007 I just bought it recently . Almost half-way through it . Fucking amazing . Mofo wants to read it next . Would you sign it for me if I run into you soon ? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 8, 2007 Author Share Posted December 8, 2007 I just bought it recently . Almost half-way through it . Fucking amazing . Mofo wants to read it next . Would you sign it for me if I run into you soon ? Nope. I'd punt it into the lake and laugh. Of course man! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
T ReXXX Posted December 8, 2007 Share Posted December 8, 2007 Ive never been one for reading...at all. But I am honestly really enjoying this. Thanks. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bahleediddy Posted December 8, 2007 Share Posted December 8, 2007 dude this is great. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bojangles Posted December 9, 2007 Author Share Posted December 9, 2007 Chapter 9 While I was staying at Bert's I'd go up to Madison park in Lakewood to hang out with Dave here and there, all his friends from his old neighborhood would be up there and I liked it for the change of scenery. Most of the time we'd just sit on the park benches and watch the world go by. I was slowly becoming a regular up there these days, kids from around there would come up and hang with me and Dave more and more. Dave knew a few of them but he said most of the guys were new around there. These “New guys” always traveled in a pack and looked like they were up to something, a shady looking group as a whole who all wore the same colored clothes. They had purple and black bandannas hanging out from all of their right pockets to match the uniforms. These guys were clearly trying to be gang bangers it looked like. Who would have guessed that Lakewood would become home to a gang? There goes the neighborhood. I tried to keep my distance from this group but by chance, I met their leader a few days later in passing. A pale redhead kid name Joey who reminded me of a stretched out, grown up Lil' Roy, except evil. Every time he'd come up and talked to me and Dave he'd have our table surrounded with guys all giving us the staredown. I felt like I was being interviewed the way he was talking to us. Turns out I was. After feeling us out for a few visits to the park he had one of his underlings come to us and drop a bomb of a question. “Yo, you cats seem cool. You wanna' be down with our set, Royal Mafia?” Basically offering us an initiation into his gang. It was a small local gang that was dwarfed by the ones like at my school but I had heard rumors of them rising up. “What do we have to do?” Dave asked, I had nothing to say yet. A few of the guys smirked at each other and told us “It's like this, we take you over there...” he pointed behind the bleachers in the park “...and you get beat in by us. It's nothing though, we'll go easy on you.” My stomach churned as Dave looked at me with a blank look, all I could do was shoot it straight back at him. “What's in it for us?” I asked. “We're on the way to being the biggest set around here. You're either with us or against us at that point.” The goons said. I thought about it for a minute, what did I have to lose? I had nothing. Maybe these guys could help me. “I'm down” I said. “Meet us over there in fifteen minutes.” Said one of the guys. Dave jumped on the bandwagon and agreed too before they walked away. We waited at the bench while they rounded up the gang from various corners of the park. They were back with about seven or eight guys in no time and I now realized the painful truth of this matter. Some of the guys were huge, abnormally so. I must've had a look of terror on my face now. “It's all good bro, it's only for three minutes. Y'all can even take it on together.” they said as we prepped ourselves. Before I could think about the choice I had made we stepped into the circle. We were surrounded by mean faced guys draped in black and purple attire. Some guys tied their bandannas around their mouths and onto their knuckles. I didn't like this anymore but it was too late to back out now. The first guy came in at me and took a swing at my face, it connected with a packing sound. I threw one right back and missed, this mistake would prove to be costly. I lost my balance and lurched forward, all I felt was a boot to the back of my head as I leaned in. I looked over as I hit the ground to see where Dave was. He was already on the ground curled up into a ball being beaten and stomped by four of the guys. The others came over and beat on me seconds later. I closed my eyes and curled up, following Dave's lead. After a few seconds my endorphins must have kicked in, I just felt hot all over like a sunburn, no more pain. I laid there with my eyes closed and my arms covering my face. The punches just rained down on every inch of my body. I was totally numb by the end, it just felt like a bad dream now. Finally it was over. I felt it slow down but was afraid to move, I was worried it was a trick. After a few seconds I was being raised to my feet and was being dusted off by the very guys who were just beating the life out of me. It really was over. I looked over at Dave, he was in bad shape. One eye completely swollen shut and boot tread imprints on his forehead. I examined myself, my shirt was mangled and shredded. I had blood leaking from various gashes in my body. Fist shaped welts decorated my back and chest. I was in shock and couldn't feel any of it. The gang congratulated us and gave us our bandannas, we were officially in. I wasn't even sure what “in” was. I stumbled back home to Bert's house and made up some lie about how I got jumped to cover my tracks. Bert's parents didn't know what to do with me really, so I went and laid down in Bert's bed and didn't get up until almost twenty four hours later. I felt like I was dying the whole time. Every time I'd try and get up and walk, I'd collapse, I had to crawl to the toilet. I really hope this was all worth it. Once I recovered, I was back out in the neighborhood. All my friends had heard about the ordeal and were not happy with Dave and I. As soon as I came around with that bandanna hanging out of my pocket, they taunted me. “Oh look at the gangster.” I got pissed quickly and headed up to the park to see my new friends. Most of the guys were up there when I got there and were standing around, looking as shady as usual. As soon as I showed up I felt uneasy, they were all staring me down like I was an enemy or something. One of the guys walked straight up to me and punched me in the chest as hard as he could out of nowhere for no reason. I lost all my breath but refused to fall even though I had no clue what was going on and was totally caught off guard by this. “Heart check homie” he yelled as he did it. This meant he was randomly testing me to see how strong I was. Was this what it was always going to be like all the time? I wasn't digging it one bit. From that point on every time I hung out with these guys I hated it more and more. This was not how I was supposed to be living my life, I soon realized I had made a poor choice for myself. The only problem is there's very few ways out of a gang, most involve bloodshed, my blood at that. I stopped going around the park for awhile and tried to figure out how to get my life out of the gutter it had been thrown into recently. Staying at Bert's was beginning to grow thin on all of his family and myself as well now. They were good people but lived a far different life from mine. With the exception of Tim, they were all straight and narrow and steady church-goers. That wasn't for me at all, at the time I still prayed to God here and there but hated the ideas of churches and organized religion. It all seemed so phony and almost scamish, plus it bored the Hell out of me to go. No pun intended. I'd go with them here and there, most of the time I'd make up excuses not to go though. After a while both sides felt it was time for me to move on. I left with no hard feelings on either side. With all options spent, it was back to a shelter for me. This time I had to set up one for myself. I was used to the game by now, I made the call and was on my way. The only place that had room for me was “Safespace” on East 123rd Street. This was not a neighborhood that a little scrubby whiteboy should be walking around in but I had no choice. I knew it wasn't wise to take all the nice new clothes with me to this place, they would probably get stolen in a flash. I gave some stuff away and stored other belongings around various friend's houses in the neighborhood before leaving. I took enough clothes that I could carry in a backpack and journeyed across town into the ghetto. One of the things I packed with me was a weapon I had acquired from a little Asian storefront Downtown. It was a collapsible metal baton. When you squeezed the trigger it would expand from seven inches to about two and a half feet long. Solid steel and perfect for keeping unfriendlys away from me. I carried it with me for protection on the streets and where I was going I was sure I'd need it. The whole bus ride there I held the baton tight in my pocket waiting for anything to go down. I was a teenage whiteboy traveling into an all black ghetto at sundown, can you say “sore thumb”? Some people looked at me like I was crazy, others looked like they felt bad for me. The people in these areas had seen hard times before too, they knew I was coming out this way for a reason. I got to Safespace that evening and braced myself for yet another shelter. This was far different from West Haven, it was a big brick building right next door to the local free clinic and across the street from a cemetery. From the outside you wouldn't know what it was, it could pass for offices or storage, a very low-key establishment. I went in nervously, it didn't have the same homey feel that West Haven had. I didn't know what to expect here either. I checked in at the offices upstairs and was sat down while asked a battery of questions. They asked me if I had any valuables that needed to be stored in a lock box. I hesitantly pulled out my baton. “What is that thing?” asked the worker. I pointed it away from her and squeezed the trigger. It sprung open with an almost mechanical sound. “Protection,” I said. I closed it back up and handed it to her. “Can I get it back when I leave?” I asked. She looked at me with a sad look on her face as she nodded. She must've been wondering how my life had gotten to this point while she took it in hand. I went downstairs and attended dinner, I had made it right in time. I just plopped down at a table with some kids and introduced myself. New faces were always coming and going in these places, it didn't even feel weird anymore to be the new guy. This was the life I had grown accustom to, I made myself at home instantly, what else could I do? After dinner I was shown around by some of the kids, I was one of the few white kids in there and it made me feel a bit awkward at first. I had my ghetto pass with me though, I could walk the walk and talk the talk so I never got one funny look. I instantly made friends with a kid by the name of Cecil, a tall lanky guy that reminded me of Dan in a way. Cecil was half black and half something, probably Puerto Rican. He towered over me and was so thin that he looked muscular because there was zero fat on his body. He looked menacing in a way, like someone you would see as a henchman in a cartoon. He was an alright guy though once I got to know him. Him and his friend who I only knew as “Boo” were both in the gang that dominated the area at the time, “Gangster Disciples” a division of a national gang named The Folks. A few other guys in there were also Folks and made it well known to everyone. This made me a little worried at first. The kids were no joke in here. Definitely not like West Haven at all. I never even asked why they were in there and they never asked me. One of the first questions out of their mouths though were “what set you claimin'?” Meaning what gang was I in. There was no way I was going to even mention Royal Mafia in here. First of all, I didn't even want to be in that gang anymore. Secondly, that was a local thing. These guys would either clown me or beat the crap out of me. I just said “I aint in no gang.” and continued watching t.v. and drawing. They stayed huddled around me as I drew some Looney Tunes characters and some letters. “Yo that's tight!” said Boo. “M'hmm.” Cecil agreed. In no time they had me drawing their names for them. They would always ask me to include gang signs into the drawings for them. At first I was a little reluctant but I figured I should go with the flow in here. It was now my first night there, I had school in the morning and had to be up super early to make it all the way back across town. I lucked out and got a room to myself, hopefully I'd be able to even fall asleep. All the rooms reminded me of prison cells in here, cold, empty and void of color. This place was built to be exactly what it was, it felt like a shelter, especially at night. My room had two cots in it, both looked uncomfortable, the walls were bare white cinder block with two windows in them, both up high and very slim. You couldn't look out of them without standing on something. I pulled my cot up to the wall and stood on it staring out of the window into the night for almost an hour. What had my life become? I thought over and over to myself. I felt like a stray dog in a kennel. The next morning I was woken up bright and early by the sun beaming into my room. I was now meeting a few kids who I hadn't met the night before. One of them was a cute but ghetto white girl named Rhonda. She had all the makings of an inner-city chick. The slang, the accent, the hair. It was all there. Normally I wouldn't go for a chick like that,but there was something about her that caught my interest. I found out that morning that she was going to school on the West Side as well so I got my bus tickets from the office and hopped on the bus with her. At first she wanted nothing to do with me or my conversation. I guess I just wasn't “down enough” for her liking. She warmed up to me after a few stupid jokes and some lighthearted conversation along the way. I found out she was going to Thomas Jefferson, a Junior High school over off of Clark. I told her that I used to live right over that way and it appeared that it scored me some cool points. My guess is she was from there originally as well. Over the next few days we got to know each other more and more on the bus rides. A few nights in we ended up stuck doing dishes together as our nightly chore back at the shelter. We got to talking as usual and out of nowhere she took this ring off of one of her fingers and slid it on to mine. She smiled and walked away. What was this all about? Did I just get 'hood married or something? I left it on for a minute but it felt weird so I slid it off into my pocket. A couple of days later she looked at my hand and asked me where her ring was. Oh crap...where was her ring? I went to my room and dug around for it. It wasn't in my jeans pocket anymore, it must've fallen out somewhere. I tore the place apart looking for it that whole day. Cecil and Boo laughed at me while I dug through couch cushions and other nooks all around the living room area. After dinner that night we were on kitchen duty together again. Rhonda had heard I lost the ring now and she looked like she was about to cry. I tried to talk to her about it, bad idea. In her right hand she was holding a fork had just washed, as I spoke I saw her hand tighten around the handle. Next thing I knew I felt a searing pain in my arm, I looked down to see four bloody puncture marks in my bicep. She had stabbed me with the fork and stomped away! I didn't want her to get punished so I never told the staff, I just walked it off and bandaged it up myself. I kind of deserved it anyways I guess. After it all went down, her friend came into the kitchen and said “Her mom gave her that ring.” with a sound in her voice that made me feel like Rhonda hadn't seen her mom in awhile and it was something special. Things were never the same with her and I again, we barely ever spoke after that point. I don't know what she wanted from me or what that ring meant but I do know I lost more than a piece of jewelry that day. A few days after that I got a roommate that coincidentally Rhonda took a shining to. She was now sneaking into my room at night to be with him. I don't know if she really had feelings for him or if she was doing it just to get back at me. Either way, I couldn't be here much longer. I made the choice to leave that weekend. My mother had somehow found God recently while living out her last days and been doing the whole church thing as of late. I don't think that even God would take much pity on her life at this point. Maybe it was her way of apologizing to herself before she went. She told the people who she had been going to church with about our hardships and about me being out there in the world alone. They listened to my mother's story and suggested a place called Job Corps for me to her, a live-in vocational school. The church people asked my mom if they could sit down with her and I and discuss this as an option. I met up with all of them at one of the people's houses who helped other people in our situation regularly. He was a large man, a mix of Santa Claus and a truck driver. I can't remember his name to save my life. He was very to the point with me as my mother sat to the side listening. “Son, you're out of options here. You can't be running forever. You can get your education there and have a roof over your head.” I was nervous about this idea but listened on. I told him and my mother that I had left the shelter for good and was out on the streets again. The man looked me square in the face the whole time and said “I'm gonna' help you and you mother with that situation too. I have a spare apartment in my house I'm going to let your mother and you use until you go to Job Corps and she gets into permanent Hospice care.” My eyes widened. Why would a stranger do all this for us I wondered? “The only thing is, you and you mother have to attend church with me when I go. There it was, the clincher. I was far from happy about that end of the bargain but was standing on the edge of a cliff so I agreed. We went across the hall and checked out the fully furnished suite he mentioned. It was quaint and a bit outdated but beggars can't be choosers. Anything was better than sleeping outside tonight. We began our stay that night, because of me leaving the shelter I had my things with me already. I don't even know what belongings my mom still owned anymore or if she even had anything at all. It wasn't bad the first few days. A small cottage of a place tucked into a quiet side street in the lower part of the East Side. We held our end of the bargain and attended church several times a week with him. It was a Baptist church which was a little over the top for my liking, the people were nice but the rituals were a lot to take in. Mom and I were the talk of the attendees after all the sermons or whatever you call a day in church. Everyone would come up to us and tell us how Jesus was going to save us and how blessed we were to be found by Santa truck driver guy. I can't lie, I had had enough of all the sugar coating. Job Corps was sounding better by the minute. A woman came up to me that I had seen talking to mom before and made it known that I was slated to leave in a week. It felt weird a little bit as she spoke. It almost felt like they were trying to get rid of me quickly, like I was the problem in my mother's life. I felt more like a parcel than a person when I heard this. Who knows though, I had probably developed wicked paranoia by then. I had to go see my friends before I left. I had one week left to hang out with these guys before I'd be gone for at least two years! I had to make the most of my time left in town. The church people had felt it best that I be sent to a campus outside of Cleveland so I could “Leave all the foul elements behind.” and “Get a new lease on things.” Dayton, Ohio was my destination. I knew nothing about this city, My guess was that it was probably farm country, I had heard of it before but the other side of Ohio might as well been another country to me. Guess I'd find out soon enough. That next week I barely came back to Santa truckers house, I just surfed around from Lil' Roy's to Big Roy's and back. I think I slept a little over four hours a night at best that week. I had to make the most of my time. I stopped going to school that week too, I was off to Job Corps...who cares about my attendance at West Tech anymore? Big Roy felt it was a good idea to skip school all that week with me as well, just to make sure I had a buddy around at all times. We sat around his house jamming out to Pink Floyd and all the other classic rock he loved. By noon on most days we were drinking moonshine and cheap beer that his neighbor would bring over. This was my going out with a bang week. My absence didn't go unnoticed from the church sessions and from the house and had seriously angered the people that were helping us. They told my mother that I needed to get back on track or we were out of a place to stay. Mom relayed this message to me over the phone a few days before it was time for me to head out. I laughed with a “who cares” attitude. For once I got to turn it around on her. I felt redeemed. Sure enough, mom was asked to leave a day later when I still hadn't returned. I still had the weekend to go before it was time for me to hop on my Greyhound. I had almost exhausted all my places to stay and was getting a little worried. Mom had disappeared off of the radar after leaving that house. I think she was a little pissed at me for my actions. Oh well, how's your own medicine taste mom? It was now Friday night and I was staying at Lil' Roy's tonight. Pap made it abundantly clear that no one was staying over the rest of the weekend while looking straight at me. He had had it up to here with all of us at this point. Dan was already over hanging out with us when Big Roy showed up late night, around eleven p.m. or so. He wore a bigger, goofier grin than usual. He looked dead at me and said “Cuz'...You're leaving in three days, you gotta' get high with me once! Dan looked like he had known this was coming. He had started smoking weed thanks to Big Roy a few months earlier, I had never even smoked a cigarette in my life before. At first I was going to refuse but figured “What the hell...I haven't died from all the other happenings in my life.” It was on! We all went out to the back porch to smoke. Big Roy put the joint in his mouth and fired it up, the whole back porch glowed for a second from it. It appeared by standing order that I was second in line to hit it. I became nervous as I saw it being handed off to me. “Just pull in real easy on it.” said Big Roy. I followed orders and then exhaled. I surprised the whole group by taking two more hits afterwards. “Slow down there tiger!” Said Lil' Roy who was next in line “puff, puff, pass.” he yelled out. We smoked the joint and then went back into the living room to ride out our newly acquired highs. I had asked Dan before to try and explain to me what feeling high was like but he couldn't. I sat there waiting for it to hit me. I kept thinking I felt it but I didn't even know what “it” was. I kept trying to convince myself that I was stoned right along with everyone else but I wasn't...I think. Big Roy sadly informed me that some people don't usually feel it the first time they smoke, I was let down when I heard the news. I don't know if that's medical fact or not but it was true for me, I was as sober as they came. So much for a wild night. We laid on the floor the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and blabbing the night away until we all fell asleep. Saturday night, I sat in Roland's dining room with the guys playing my farewell game of Dungeons and Dragons. I was now holding and toking a joint like a pro twenty four hours later. This night I would indeed be stoned. I liked the feeling once it hit me and I got used to it, it enhanced our game tenfold. The story felt more intense as Roland told it, I played like it was my real life on the line that night. This was great! Why hadn't I done this sooner? I remember that night thinking that I hoped I could find potheads in Dayton. After hours and hours of playing, the night was coming to a close. Everyone was packing up to go home. ...Home. Uh-oh. In my altered state I forgot to come up with a plan for a place to sleep. The house cleared out and it was just me and Roland sitting there, his wife already tucked into bed. I kept stalling while Roland kept doing the fake yawns and arm stretches. Finally after about five minutes he said “You've got nowhere to go tonight, do you?” I lowered my head and shook it. “Okay, let me tell my wife we have a guest for the night.” I heard talking coming from their room a few seconds later. It sounded like she wasn't keen on the idea of a teenage homeless boy staying over, they went back and fourth for a few minutes about it. I was just about to take that as my cue to leave. As I stood up to make my exit, Roland came out and tossed me a pillow and blanket and said “The couch is all yours.” I laid down and listened to their debate about me until I fell asleep. I woke up at the crack of down the next morning and left hastily. I didn't want to run into Roland's wife, I was ashamed about my situation the night before. All of Sunday I just putzed around the neighborhood gathering mental souvenirs for my trip. I had my bags with me packed and ready to go. I made Dan's front porch my base of operations for the day and randomly hung out with my friends as they came and went. Evening was coming soon and reality once again set in, I had nowhere to go tonight. All the parents had enough of me and I knew it. My last visitor of the day was Big Roy around sunset. He sat around with me, Dan and Lil' Roy on the front porch of Dan's place for a few hours hanging out and chatting it up. We all traded stories and even shed a few tears as we took our farewell pictures together. Dan made it known to us that he had to go inside soon, he didn't even know I had nowhere to go that night and I wasn't going to burden him with it. Soon, Lil' Roy was heading in for the night as well. Big Roy just sat there talking away with me without a care in the world. It had to be after midnight at this point and I was getting scared but thankful that Roy was sticking around. I must have fallen asleep somewhere around three a.m. or so without realizing it. I woke up around eightish slumped against the pillar by the stairs. People were walking by staring at me and Big Roy was gone. I didn't know if he left five minutes ago or five hours ago, I was just happy to have had his company. I had to make my way Downtown, my bus would be leaving soon. I had said my good byes the night before so my work here was done. I stood up, looked around one last time and made my way to the bus stop. 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Bojangles Posted December 10, 2007 Author Share Posted December 10, 2007 Not feeling it anymore guys? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bahleediddy Posted December 10, 2007 Share Posted December 10, 2007 ahhh i thought you updated. i was gonna call 1st read on chapter 10. edit-i'm really enjoying this. i think about the story and the scenarios alot and how things compare to how i was brought up Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
RELAPSER Posted December 10, 2007 Share Posted December 10, 2007 just waiting until tomorrow's chapter! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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