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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1543989-Walk-to-7-11
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Dark · #1543989
Internalized view of a man's walk to store in the inner city.
OWCHH!! What the hell is that banging?.....Oh….It's my heart beat, throbbing against my temple. How many beers did I drink?
HACKKK!!! Fuck, I'm out of smokes.
Guess I'll have to run the gauntlet to the 7-11.
I made it yesterday.
I'll make it today.
I hope that big bad ass crack dealer is out fucking or drinking.
He gives me the creeps.
The last time I saw him....He was whipping up on a crack whore and swearing to kill the dude that owed him a tenner. I believe him.
I walked right past him. Close...you don't veer away from a predator....They can smell fear. A little, blond, white boy with fear in his eyes, is fair game.
You have to slowly pass...and look. Then they won't see you....
Where did I put my fucking shoes?
Oh… There they are...Stinking in the corner.
I best not pass the mirror.
I don't want to see what I've become.....
Well fuck...I have 4 dollars in quarters, and a few dimes.
That will get me a pack of Old Bay Menthols and a quart of Old Milwaukee.
Not a bad start to another shitty day.
I unlock both dead bolts.
I Peer outside with my blood shot eyes.
Fuck!!! Another sunny day!
I can't find my shades! I must have left them at what passes for my girl friend’s house.
Squinting hard ...I take the back way. Best not to be seen by my apartment management. Not that they aren't used to pieces of shit like me.
A cracked out bitch is puking next to the dumpster.
I give her a wide berth. We call her Black Sheri...Not racial...Just a distinction.
She stinks from here. She always wears a cologne to hide the smell of her pipe.
There is a hole in the fence behind the tattoo shop.
I’ll take the shortcut around from the telephone booth, where all the action is.
I'm not in the mood for action.
I just need my cheap ass smokes.
I slip through the gap.
A clean cut dude from the Firestone tire shop sees me.
Fuck!
Have to hurry.
I turn away and pretend to fix my shirt. I'm really just trying to hide my face.
He goes inside to call the cops.
I scurry by, and blend in with all the other losers hanging around with nothing to do but get wasted, or get laid by loser whores…..
I can't just walk into the 7-11 of course.
There is a security guard there.
He looks for people just like me.
I know better.
I laid out 18 months in the Lou Starret County Jail a few years ago.
Not again……
I stumble up to the bullet proof glass cashiers stand. The clerk eyes me suspiciously…What a Joke!! I'm harmless, too wasted to rob him.
I order my smokes and beer while standing guard on my cash.
The clerk gives me a hard look, and hands over the merchandise.
A big, macho looking vato is standing right behind me.
He has a tattoo of Che on his right forearm, and a Jesus bobble head doll on the dash board of his lifted Chevy .
Complete with fringe, and an I love mi madre bumper sticker.
I glare at him and grab my beer.
Not today mother fucker!!
I can't go home through the fence. Firestone boy is saving the world.
The cops are already there...looking around. For me I think....
Fuck!
I have to pass the phone booth, and Bubba the Bad Ass is on the phone making a deal. I know what the deal is….Duh…
Oh well...
I have done it before. So I turn right, around the corner. Out of sight of the pigs.
There are four jigs in hoodies hangin there. They don’t look too friendly. What else is new? They have a club at unit four. Don't go there unless you want to score!
A trashed out white chick is leaning on one of the brothers. I can see her tracks from here!
They make me look clean!
I say fuck it!
I decide I need to use the phone,
So I get in line.
That makes me invisible. The way to survive this shit is to seem like you are one of them. They always look for a pidgeon or an enemy. Be one of them…They won’t see you…
I hang for say...Five, and saunter off as if I'm tired of waiting.
No one calls me out
I slip down the alley....Make sure that I’m not seen...Unlock my door…..
And HA
I made it again!!!!



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