Thursday, October 12, 2006

NBA Division Previews through 750-word short stories: Atlantic

Spinelli tells me I got a new taker out in East Park, three cheese and little chance of a tip. Fuckin college kids never got more than they need for their pizza. Got in my 93 Camry, started her up, put my stupid little Papa Johns sign on top of the car, and got speeding. I didn’t want to be out in East Park for more time than necessary, shit was ghetto.

I had just made it onto the highway when, to my astonishment, I had to swerve and miss this flashy broken down Escalade almost right next to the onramp. Looks like it really crashed the barrier hard; the passenger doors had many gashes and cuts slashed into the indention. One of the tires had popped off too, and I saw a tiny little black man trying to chase it down, shouting something about how the CBA was more resilient.

I gunned the sound up with some Rolling Stones and found my way into the middle lane, jerked my head to the left, and saw one of those new electric cars. It was a gross shade of purple. The driver looked nervous, his pale skin was moist and his acne was prevalent. I thought of how many days ago, I was as shaky as this poor kid on the road. He had his hands at ten and two, he was checking everything right, but he was just a bit too raw. I sped up past him.

All of the sudden, traffic came to a standstill and I got stuck behind this oddity of a vehicle. It seemed reminiscent of a muscle car; had the engine out and purring hard, ready to move. But for some reason, it had these humongous monster-truck sized wheels, real expensive looking. There were some pink guns on the back window, and as I pondered for a few minutes at what exactly this was supposed to mean, my eye was caught by a bumper sticker that read: "Southern Protectorate Nudist Campus". Shit, I had to get a good view of this. I saw 3 boys, maybe 23 or so tops, all with awful haircuts and all but one naked from the waist up. The one who was clothed wore a suit and tie, but it was apparent from the side-to-side swerving he was doing that he wasn't much in control of himself. He then took out what looked to be a foot-long blue dildo, and started sucking it. I got the fuck off that freeway.

I got down onto the feeder while cursing my luck. East Park was the worst late at night, the people who weren’t partying were busy contributing to it’s #1 crime rating among colleges. I spit on the sidewalk after I got out, 329 Blain St.

Knocked on the door, some hussy flashed me and asked me if I'd be staying. I shoved past those tits and shouted "I GOT 3 CHEESE AND PEPPERONIS FOR A MISTER ZULKOWSKI". Some guy pointed me into the back room.

Got in just in time to see the remnants of a horrible drinking contest. Youngish white kid in a green shirt and this tall black guy dressed in an all grey sweatshirt and pants, like he was out jogging. Green had taken the sixteenth shot of Cuervo and just couldn't hold it in. He started hurling all over the floor. Grey was very smug about it, he stood up with his hands across his chest and let loose on the poor kid.


Grey took a victory shot, recoiled, and soon after found himself on the floor right with Green. It was pretty brutal to watch as their vomit swirled into each others and became this yellow-green tint that stained the blue rug; it had become apparent that even though the contest was hard-fought and tight, there were no true winners. Found Zulkowski, he tipped me an extra $10 either because he was drunk or because I found him; I couldn't tell which.

My clothes smelled of smoke and vomit as I made my way back to the car cautiously. Today and tomorrow would not be great days for these kids. For anyone I met today. A few of those kids had some hope, Green had some fire in his eyes. That poor pale kid would become a good driver someday. Right now though, they’re almost as awful as this fucking delivery job.

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