Crack the Spine - Issue 173

They had to be the place where my one birthday wish would be fulfilled and where my dream would become an unhindered reality. It wasn’t. “Just another place where I’m let down and my dream is taken. A place where I’m disrespected.” I’m pushed to the side as though I were nothing. “Nothing but some man, some dude, some bud, bud, buddy, instead of a sir!”

I marched up to the man who pushed me. I reached under my sweater and felt for the prickly grip of my gun. Then the nasty sample lady with the stubby legs and warts all over her face had the gall to ask me, ask me—ask me, “Would you like to sample the yotal rise breen sayrual today? It is so very goody, goody.”

“It’s called Total Raisin Bran Cereal, you stupid hag. And, it’s good.”

The maintenance man got off his ladder and touched the sample lady’s shoulder. “She said it just fine.” He gave me a nasty look. “What’s your problem?”

“Like I said,” I pointed my gun, “It’s Total Raisin Bran Cereal.”

I turned the gun to the man who identified me as ‘buddy.’ He dropped a box of cereal and held his hands up. When he gave me a threatening look, yet backed up, I said, “So tell me you, you, you American dream stealing scumbag, tell me, because I wondered something right before you called me ‘buddy’ a moment ago,” all eyes pointed to me, “tell me, did you ever wonder—whatever happened to the Georgia peach?”

“No one gives a fuck about your stupid peach, buddy.”

And, that was when I started shooting.