In Grey
Oct. 11th
- Audio Transcript -
I went down to the school park to hang out cause I thought nobody would be there on a Sunday. I was wrong, though. In a nearby alcove, a mysterious fog was billowing out from the darkness. I leaped from a swing at its highest point (that I was comfortable with) and landed deftly on the grass past the sand, and went to investigate.
Elder Lady:
Yeah, I got the stuff. What you want, skip?
Kid:
You got that uhh... I'm looking for strawberry or cherry. I love red stuff.
Elder Lady:
I got red stuff, check this out.
In the alcove, fiddling with a small, handheld machine of some kind, stood a woman with long white hair and glasses, and a grey skateboarding outfit. It looked like it came from the seventies, with wacky black and white patterns all over it. Her elbow and knee pads were comparatively modern. Through the smoke, it looked like they were making some kind of deal. The kid was in my grade, but not my class. He was a short African-American boy with dreads, slicked back to his scalp. Standing at four and a half feet, he looked like he could take twelve of me in a fight, and then some. I went unnoticed for a time, hanging around the corner.
Kid:
I love red. It's my favourite color.
Elder Lady:
I don't care, dude.
Kid:
Yeah, uh. Right. I love blue, too.
Elder Lady:
I mean I don't care what your favourite color is, just pick a couple flavors and let's hit the road here. I've got other customers.
Kid:
Okay I'm gonna take a... a red one, and a blue one. Do these got menthol in 'em?
Elder Lady:
Hey, you tryna'ccuse me of somethin?
Kid:
No, I WANT the menthol.
Elder Lady:
The blue ones have menthol, so I'll give you a red and a peach.
Kid:
That's bullshit, I'm paying you.
Elder Lady:
And I want a repeat customer, not a fucking corpse. You're gonna die if you smoke that shit, it's twice as addictive as the ones without. I don't want you on my doorstep like you're out of smack.
Kid:
Oh, way to be responsible, dealing cigarellos to minors.
Elder Lady:
Gotta draw the line somewhere, Bradley. And it's 'cigarillos'.
Bradley:
Whatever. I'll take a white one. Is that marshmallow?
Elder Lady:
Damn straight. five bucks.
Bradley:
(Taken off-guard.) W-what? They're like fifty cents at the store!
Elder Lady:
So go buy them yourself.
Bradley:
(Sour.) "Go buy them yourSeLf..."
The kid pays her, packs his bag, and walks out of the smokey alcove. He turns to me, and I'm terrified. He just snorts and spits on the ground in front of my feet.
Bradley:
You rat on me, I'll come back here and blow some smoke up your ass, you got me?
Dryce:
What, like a date?
Bradley:
Shut up, loser!!
[Bradley's running footsteps trail off in the distance. The sound of wheels roll out from inside the alcove.]
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