Oregon Saga #1: Water Back

On my 21st birthday my friends abandoned me after 6 beers.  They were kind enough to be there at the bar at midnight the night before, but work and weed snuck them back to their beds and Dr. Who DVD's at around 10pm.  I made my rounds from one bar to the next, making new friends and smoking cigarettes with the dregs and self-important near do wells that off season beach towns seem to produce.  My age made me a novelty.
I knew the bartender from my bussing days at a cafe near the turn-around.  She had big boobs and would later have a baby with one of the local knuckleheads; they would get drunk and kiss when her shift was over.  "21, huh? Well, let's start you off with the good stuff." Johnnie Walker Red.  A man sits next to me, "What, no water back?"

Night Terror

"Are you ok?"

"I...I had a terrible nightmare."

"You're shaking. What made it so terrible??"

"I was...I was in my back yard, only it wasn't my back yard, you know? It was this European square, I guess.  I was starving and didn't have any money so I had to perform, only I had zero talent.  All I had to work with was a ball, a couple fans and a metal stick thing that must have cost me some amount of money at some point...Anyway, it seemed that every time I tried to do a trick it went wrong.  I would throw the ball in the air and it would be just out of reach to catch.  I would try to do a Chinese fan trick, but turns out it wasn't a trick at all.  Ah, fuck, at one point I may have been dancing, but not really dancing, i don't know.  And then there was that metal stick thing that I would just roll on my arms: front, back, front... I don't want to talk about it anymore.  It felt almost too real."

La'Robot

(to be read in the voice of a lonely African American man; age 35-48)

Dear Moms,  Hello.  How are things there?  I miss home, but I am getting by just fine here in Portland.  You kicking me out was the best thing that has happened to me.  I got a job at Ross.  On my days off I am a performer.  I had a girlfriend, but she left me.  I am really focusing on my performances.  I think I am finding my voice creatively ma.  I created a character that is kind of like me only he is a robot-man made of metal and plastics and not a real man like me.  He is an angry robot-man that walks around and yells at people right in their faces because they are different.  But then my character discovers everyone is different and it would be a waste of batteries to continue to use 'yelling mode'.  The only way for him to recharge his batteries is to juggle.  Well, I am saving money to come home for Dede's birthday.  I miss you all.  Say "hi" to Rodney for me.

Peace,

La'Ronzo

Camp Bo

Bo smoked a cigarette he had bummed from our campsite neighbors.  He sat on the dirt near me while I flicked and fiddled with an old lighter trying to get our fire going.  A few sparkly embers floated over to Bo's exposed and jean-shorted midget legs, "Yow! Little fuckers."

The two of us roasted the wienies we bought from the one convenience store in a hundred mile radius.  I bought two scratch-its, broke even.  In the parking lot outside of the store Bo tried to offend some high school girls in a Jeep by flipping them off, but his hands are so small and lumpy that, i'm sure, they thought he was just introducing them to a portion of mashed potatoes.  "Ha! Little bitches." he yelled into my ear as we motored away on our leaky little Suzuki.

It was the first time either of us had wanted to sleep outside.  I used my bag as a pillow; Bo used his backpack.  In the morning Bo was covered in bug bites. "Damn little buggies"

Text Unto Sean

( Italics to be read in the style of David Suchet = Bold to be read in the style of Sean )

6:07pm: "Hello, will you be gracing us with your presence this evening, my good friend?"

6:11pm:  "nah. i be chillin' her.  goin' threw sum shite, ya kno? next time brah! ;)"

6:12pm:  "Very well then, sirah, may we all pray for and find peace of mind this evening.  My thoughts are with you, my brother of like mind.  'blessed be the ties that bind'; tis' true. Adieu."

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10:22pm:  "Steady, may the sweetest of dreams find you and may the morn bring with it resolve of thought unto you.  Goodnight."

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2:38am:  "ho! sleepin' in a bush!"

2:39am:  "Tarry! Be you harmed?"

2:42am:  "nah i just napping. ill be aight."

2:42am:  "I most certainly hope so. I worry for you."

4:57am:  "sup. :)love you. i glmdn i knmw friends. brrrap!"

Circle of Peas

Every year tourists pour into our cove. Each family convinced that sleeping in a $50 room with a view of a foggy ocean is worth double or more. Sometimes they spend a month's worth of rent on two nights in a dated house with mismatched dishes. In these cases their shitty children sell powdered lemonade colored water to the locals. I would ride my bike past them and their tiny exposed teeth; the fatter of the group collecting the quarters and doling out orders for more water or more drink powder.

Long story short: I ate all the peas I grew myself that i planned to sell because that fat girl runs a tight ship; my pea-stand didn't pea-stand a chance.