Nothing in the store was over five dollars , so Brake thought nothing of it to get a bag of cell phone cases for a sweet deal of a buck and a quarter. He gave the cashier a five, pocketed his change as he released a satisfied snort , and walked out of the store.
Then he remembered he was still in Clairemont, at an intersection that had chain coffee shop, an adult continuation school and Church full of garble tongued snake handlers on the other three corners. Just beyond a grove of dead crab apple trees he could see the High School Science building roof, a bleak and dreary twp story slab of flyweight construction from which the American flag was seen caught tangled in the chain and pullies of the flag pole.
The flag wrapped around the pole as the wind made sharp corner of the item flap listlessly like an animal caught in a trap who's reflexes spasmodically twitched and pulled against the inescapable of the steel tooth device. Brake thought of Thanksgiving dinner and dropped his bag of cell phone cases, remembering he had no cell phone and no phone number either.
Skeets needed bus change bad so he walked two extra blocks down Magnolia to the huge Pussycat Theater and went up to the elderly woman cashier and handed her a one-spot as he made pleading basset hound eyes only to notice the mica-chip glint of absolute dry-juiced refusal in the cashier's tiny porcine eyes set among a lace-doily webbing of wrinkles indicating considerable age if not wisdom but certainly a hard-baked soul dessicated by the vicissitudes of fate that had taken her from waitress duties at the Hotel Arno Cafe to a clerking shift at the Fletcher Parkway Speedee-Mart to a job at this hideous venereal palace deep in the cement expanses of El Cajon -- her purse-slit lips opened, a tiny strand of saliva glistened and a parched, venom-dipped "Nooooooooo" emerged. Diesel brakes hissed in the background as Skeets felt him ego turn to a thin fluid, draining out of his sandals.ReplyDelete