I wrote this on a greyhound bus trip. It's a short narrative from when I stopped at a McDonald's in Houston, TX. I enjoyed it, but never turned it into anything longer, so here it is. A short narrative.
-from 4/09
The ice cold rain bites my face like steel nails. The wind whips me like a slave. Above the tall buildings hang thick black clouds, and above them sits a pale white moon and some scattered stars. It is five minutes 'til two.
Left. Right. Left. Right. I am wet and cold. Left. Right. Left. Right. One foot in front of the other, I just have to put one foot in front of the other. If only they weren't made of lead.
I relight my cigarette for the third time. Puffs of white smoke escape my tired mouth. They are torn to shreds by the driving wind. Holding the cigarette in my hand backwards to shield it from the rain, I walk up to the dimly lit window of McDonald's. The lobby would be closed at this hour, but their 24 hour "walk-up" window wouldn't be. So I knock at the glass and wait.
Suddenly, a voice says from behind me, "Excuse me, sir, can you spare a dollar? I haven't eaten all day, and I probably won't eat tomorrow. Can't you spare me some change?"
He was just the first of many bums to approach me in this big city.
I took a drag of my cigarette and let the smoke fill my lungs. I could feel the nicotine bonding to the Oxycontin flooding my blood stream, and my pupils dilate. I'm buzzing now.
"Sure, man, I can help you out." I give him all my change. It was eighty-four cents. "Good luck, man."
"God bless you, sir," he says, and turns away from me.
I turn back around and knock at the glass. I could only be patient for so long.
"Come on," I whispered, "I'll be all out of money before I even order."
I look behind me to see the bum disappear into the rain. God it's really coming down out there.
A shiver shakes my body to the core.
"Come on..."
A pale sad face appears behind the glass. The one overhead light accents his deep set eyes that hang lazily over dark purple bags. Sleep was not this man's friend. Amongst the wrinkles I find his slit of the mouth. It opens.
"Can I help you?"
I order.
"4.29," he disappears back into the pitch black lobby.
I shake my hair and water goes everywhere. I take another drag of my cigarette and turn around. Closing my eyes, I let the smoke snake through my pipes and lungs, slowly letting it slither out of my nose and half opened mouth. I'm buzzing pretty hard.
When I open my eyes she is standing in front of me, eying the cigarette greedily. When she notices my eyes are open again she approaches me, coming out of the driving rain to stand under the awning, her back against the glass window.
"Mighty late for a young man to be out in a city like this," she said, "unless of course, that young man was lookin' for trouble."
When I look at her she's turned to face me.
"You lookin' for trouble?"
Completely taken aback by this mysterious black lady with the shopping cart, I do the only thing I can think of. I pull out my pack of Newports, flip the top, and offer one to her.
"Smoke?"
She takes the cigarette from me, and I light it for her. I wait for her to ask for money. Or food. Something. Anything. The silence is killing me. But she doesn't make a sound, she just smokes the cigarette and gives me another stare.
"Stay out of trouble," is all she says, and she leaves. She leaves without asking for money or food; hell, even the cigarette I gave her she didn't ask for. I guess she just wanted the company.
The sad man in the window appears with my food. I pay him and take the bag. Remaining under the awning and out of the rain, I toss my cigarette and open the bag of food. I eat some fries. I eat some cheeseburger. I eat some more fries.
It is so cold I can see my breath.
Left. Right. Left. Right. I am wet and cold. Left. Right. Left. Right. One foot in front of the other, I just have to put one foot in front of the other. If only they weren't made of lead.
I relight my cigarette for the third time. Puffs of white smoke escape my tired mouth. They are torn to shreds by the driving wind. Holding the cigarette in my hand backwards to shield it from the rain, I walk up to the dimly lit window of McDonald's. The lobby would be closed at this hour, but their 24 hour "walk-up" window wouldn't be. So I knock at the glass and wait.
Suddenly, a voice says from behind me, "Excuse me, sir, can you spare a dollar? I haven't eaten all day, and I probably won't eat tomorrow. Can't you spare me some change?"
He was just the first of many bums to approach me in this big city.
I took a drag of my cigarette and let the smoke fill my lungs. I could feel the nicotine bonding to the Oxycontin flooding my blood stream, and my pupils dilate. I'm buzzing now.
"Sure, man, I can help you out." I give him all my change. It was eighty-four cents. "Good luck, man."
"God bless you, sir," he says, and turns away from me.
I turn back around and knock at the glass. I could only be patient for so long.
"Come on," I whispered, "I'll be all out of money before I even order."
I look behind me to see the bum disappear into the rain. God it's really coming down out there.
A shiver shakes my body to the core.
"Come on..."
A pale sad face appears behind the glass. The one overhead light accents his deep set eyes that hang lazily over dark purple bags. Sleep was not this man's friend. Amongst the wrinkles I find his slit of the mouth. It opens.
"Can I help you?"
I order.
"4.29," he disappears back into the pitch black lobby.
I shake my hair and water goes everywhere. I take another drag of my cigarette and turn around. Closing my eyes, I let the smoke snake through my pipes and lungs, slowly letting it slither out of my nose and half opened mouth. I'm buzzing pretty hard.
When I open my eyes she is standing in front of me, eying the cigarette greedily. When she notices my eyes are open again she approaches me, coming out of the driving rain to stand under the awning, her back against the glass window.
"Mighty late for a young man to be out in a city like this," she said, "unless of course, that young man was lookin' for trouble."
When I look at her she's turned to face me.
"You lookin' for trouble?"
Completely taken aback by this mysterious black lady with the shopping cart, I do the only thing I can think of. I pull out my pack of Newports, flip the top, and offer one to her.
"Smoke?"
She takes the cigarette from me, and I light it for her. I wait for her to ask for money. Or food. Something. Anything. The silence is killing me. But she doesn't make a sound, she just smokes the cigarette and gives me another stare.
"Stay out of trouble," is all she says, and she leaves. She leaves without asking for money or food; hell, even the cigarette I gave her she didn't ask for. I guess she just wanted the company.
The sad man in the window appears with my food. I pay him and take the bag. Remaining under the awning and out of the rain, I toss my cigarette and open the bag of food. I eat some fries. I eat some cheeseburger. I eat some more fries.
It is so cold I can see my breath.
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