December 18, 2017“Ever wondered what the hell the sulfur symbol is doing on the Oreo cookie? I hadn’t noticed it until about a week ago when I sat down from a long day at school to unwind with my usual episode of Alf. I can’t get enough of that show. My cousin lives in Hollywood and rubs elbows with all these bigwig types and he tells me that the writer of the show is on heroin and that he only writes episodes to support his habit. I mean, can you believe it? Heroin? Is that sexy? I don’t know, I guess some of the guys in them heavy metal bands do look like they smoke heroin, or eat it, or whatever it is you do with it. It be bitchin’ to try it someday, I guess. When mother goes to work, I get in her closet and look through her stuff. Just a bunch of crap, really. Her name tags from all the jobs she’s worked are all in this treasure box. “Mrs. Kuzma” they all say. But she gots these leather pants that look badass on me. Well, most of her threads look better on me than they do on her, and it kills her too. Man, as soon as I’m eighteen I’m hitting the road, if I can wait that long, and heading to California and you bet your bottom dollar I’ll be doing it in those damn trousers. ‘Bottom dollar’, is something my Grandma says from time to time. She’s the only one that ever listens to me, you know? I get along with her the most. I would always draw her pictures and she kept them all. ‘You can really draw, kiddo’, she would say…truth is, I can only trace. I can trace the shit out of anything, seriously. Grams doesn’t laugh at me when I tell her I want to be a famous singer one day, or maybe be on one of those crazy rock videos swinging my hair around wrapped around the arm of the singer or at least the guitar player—people love my blonde hair. Hell, I might even get a gig doing stunts for the action movies—I hear not a lot of girls got the balls for that kind of stuff. Shoot, I’ve always been a tomboy, just ask my cousin Brian—well, you can’t, he’s dead, but I would keep up with him and all his buddies back when he was around. Sometimes I really miss that asshole. I shouldn’t call him that, but he liked it, no, really. He would smile when I’d say, “Hey, little asshole, that’s my pop tart,” or something like that, you know? Anyway, gotta go, Alf’s coming on soon. See you tomorrow, Ahmed,” She said grabbing her skateboard and dashing out of the store with her usual bag of Cheetos and a Cherry Coke.
”Yes, see you tomorrow, Nora. And tell your mother her tab needs paying again, it is getting high, too high again,” replied the store clerk moving his head from side to side making sure she skated across the street unharmed. Closing his eyes and drawing his face slowly towards the fan with its missing blade, he began to hum a television show theme song, unknowingly, while sweat trickled down his spine underneath his new Hawaiian shirt. “That girl is gonna be trouble.”
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