Spanish Men Are All The Same

Rank and foul, the old man was in his wine. He would not shut up. The same stories of the Republic, delivered in his slurry Catalonian lisp. For the hundredth time he told how his nephew, ten years old, smuggled a bomb into Franco’s headquarters, a bomb disguised as a picnic basket.
The filthy old bastard grinned. He held up a slice of baguette.
“We were told to send a girl. But we knew the guard was a pederast.” He drove his grimy finger into the bread, twisting it back and forth. “Too bad the bomb did not go off.”

Flip Flops

It’ll be fun. You can see the planets.

Bullshit. I didn’t come to Hawaii to look at fucking planets. How about learning to surf? How about getting laid?

And then I see the snow. I can’t believe my eyes. Snow? In Hawaii?

In the front seat they sit chattering away about how pretty it is.

“You may not give a shit, but I am wearing flip flops.”

Mom turns in her seat. “Randy, I told you. It’s on a mountain.”

“Observatories are usually on mountains, Randy,” smirks Dad.

I swear, I am going to push him over the fucking railing.

He’s Such a Quiet Boy

Sunday Photo Fiction Prompt.

You’re lucky he didn’t see you take it. What will you do when he sets it up and sees it missing?

Maybe he won’t notice.

You think he won’t notice? There’s only so many pieces. The game uses all of them.

You don’t know that. You can’t even play checkers.

Yeah, smarty? Well, if they didn’t need all the pieces why put them in the game in the first place?

Well, I was just saying you don’t know for sure.

He might kill you this time. He sees it missing, he’ll know for sure you’ve been in his things. He told you to never.

I know. I just can’t help it.

He’s got other things in there, you know.

You mean the gun.

Well, he’s a lot bigger than you are. That time he used his fists—

You don’t got to remind me.

He might think twice, you throw down on him.

“Throw Down?” Where you getting these words?

Oh, I know more than you think I do. I only tell you what you can understand.

Will you show me how to work the gun? If I take it?

I’ll show you anything you want. You just gotta promise me something first.

Talking to the cops

Even though I’ve been straight for a long time, I still get a twinge whenever I see a cop. If you have ever had your name entered into the system, it never gets expunged. Most Americans don’t know this, but if you give your name to police officer and they enter it into their system, it remains forever along with whatever else that officer decides to write.

Adam Crigler talking to the police.

I am not talking about arrests or anything else… I am talking about any exchange of information whatsoever. I know that most of you are law-abiding citizens, but if you have been watching the news you may be aware that your local police force is an arm of a corporate-sponsored prison system that makes a great deal of money for its investors. It is essentially a hotel that charges three hundred bucks a night and is guaranteed 95% occupancy every night forever. Plus all the ancillary profit items, everything from soap to phone calls, all marked up to the highest possible margin.

If you think that you need only fear this if you’re a criminal, think again. Ask any black person if they share your view. I am here to tell you one thing: don;t talk to the police, ever. “But what if they ask me some questions?” you say. Well, here’s an example.

Cop: “Pardon, sir. You mind if I ask you some questions?”

Me: “Am I being detained?”

Cop: “No, I just want to ask you some questions. May I see your ID?”

Me: “Am I free to go? Am I being detained? I don’t answer questions.”

Cop: “No, you’re not being detained.”

Me: (walks away).

It helps if you’re filming this. And tone of voice is everything. Don’t seem belligerent or threatening. Be polite and calm, but do not answer questions no matter what they tell you. You have no idea why they stopped you or what ideas they may have. All they need is your permission and they can see every exchange you have ever had with the cops along with whatever comments might be there. In my case, it’s a felony conviction and God knows what else. In your case, who knows?

Prison is full of innocent people who said yes at the wrong moment.

We’s Just Friends

I set the bottle going and hid back out in the woods. I always liked to watch how the flames licked up the side of the door frame. It was real pretty. Like Christmas.

He didn’t come out for a long time. The fire was pretty much all over the porch by that point. He looked real handsome in his robe. I imagined him coming over, me undoing his robe and touching the hairs on his chest.

It looked like he was thinking about going back in for his wife, but he never did. That confirmed it in my mind.

Theys Born That Way

He smelt bad when he leaned on me, grabbed up on my breasts and jammed his old hairy hands at my parts, sour breath in my face. He said he dint know I was a girl under them boy clothes, said it dint matter because it was rules of the road and I should know better. I relaxed back and let him get atop me while I reached around to where I kept the ice pick tied on the string down my back. I shoved it hard into his crusty ear so fast he dint have time to howl.

The New Memory Sucks

This was on me. I knew that.

Chance was a shit, but he was my little brother after all. And what he wanted wasn’t much. Besides, it would get him to finally shut up about the house.

“Ok. Get in the car, then.”

We didn’t recognize the place. The whole house had been ripped away like some giant hand had come down and scooped it up. We stared at it for a long time.

“Where’d the house go?” was all Chance would say.

Driving back, I knew it would have been better to let him keep the old memory instead.

Speedway Randy

Ex-Con Fiction Your Cellie Wont Hate

Month: April 2015