October Idiosyncratica Challenge

Okay, so I’ve learned a few things from the challenge this month. First, I’m no grammarian; second, adverbs rock; third, the English language makes no sense; and lastly, articles are considered adjectives, what the f**k. I hope I was able to weed out all the adjectives, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a few slipped by.

Playing Bottle-Caps and Jumping Rope

I didn’t have to look underneath the bathtub to know Lo had taken the money. I ran out the door, down 204^th Street. I turned left on Sherman Ave. I ran to the corner lot. The ground was covered with weeds, glass, and spray-cans. Hector’s Bodega stood in the middle. Weeds hugged the store’s sidewalls.

The neighborhood opened up in front of me. I looked inside windows. A man was yelling at his TV. A woman was splashing water on her face. Pigeons danced on a fire escape. I stood outside the store. Twenty minutes passed. I decided enough was enough. I had to get inside and find Lo. I walked into the store. Men stood around the counter, shit-kickers who had nothing better to do. Some chewed on toothpicks, others gnawed on cigar stumps. Lo stood beside them.

“Hey,” he said.

I braced my keychain, squeezed my fist, and waited. The keys pricked my palm. When I felt his beer-breath, I clawed into his face. I inhaled his sweat and desperation.

He fell down on his knees. He didn’t scream or yell. He didn’t try to reach for me. He held on to his cheek like he was afraid his face would fall off.

I ran out. I squashed weeds, kicked spray-cans, and felt the glass crunch underneath my feet. I ran into a group, boys playing bottle-caps and girls jumping rope. I trampled a boy. The boy transformed into a bulldog. “Suck my dick, estupida!” Bully yelled.

I ran to my building. I looked back. I saw Lo following me. He was holding his cheek. Blood ran down his hands. He shouted at me but Bully’s taunts and sneers was all I heard. I slipped inside my building. I bit my lip to make it stop trembling.