WIshing Away Curve Balls

Sand storm

I stared down at the death that was in the middle of the street.

A skunk was hit by a car.

Blankly i picked up the writhing creature and settled it down on the die of the road. I took one of the newspapers out of my bag (from doing my mother's job that early morning of delivering her newspapers.) and covered him up. I remembered before my sister died helping my mother with a seagull that had met a similar fate. The fears of humans and other things made the dying process more hurtful than needed. I knew that there wasn't anything I could do to save the creature.

I watched as the movement stopped. I lifted up the newspaper to carry the skunk to where I could bury it properly. It begans to gurgle up blood as it retched one last time before I observed the pupils of its eyes enlarge in deaths rescue.

"You hurt no more." escaped my whispering thoughts outloud.

I attended to the paper route before returning to carry the skunk home to the two story yellow house.

Bringing it to the back of the yard, I buried the animal that I decided to name Peppi La Pue: after the Looney Toon Character. All of God's creatures deserved to have a name.

I could tell that everyone was still doing the usual accostoms that tormented my life. My father was at work, and my mother had returned to bed. She made sure that I had her newspapers to deliver as the sun cradled the horizon. My brother continued his slumber in the play pen that was a fortress of plywood.

I decided to pace the sidewalk, and for unknown reasons at the time: the next car that drove by - I picked up a pile of sand that was lining the sidewalk and trew it at the car.

I could hear the tinkling of the granuals against the car's shiny paint job.

The black man that slowed his silver toyota celica to a stop rolled down his window and scowled at me. "Where do you live kid!?"

I just ignored him and kept walking.

He reversed and continued to barrade me with the same question. This time I stopped and glarred at him. Challenging him with a stare.

The man's eyes glistened and then he asked me, "Who is hurting you?"

I had forgotten that you could see the bruises: to cover them up would be difficult that morning becuase i had a risen cheek bone, and several swollen multitoned fingers. I didn't realize that the scars where probably just as visable in my sleevless shirt. That morning I didn't care.

I turned and continued walking down the street.

I heard a muffled call of "Do you need help..."

Then the vibrations of a muffler could be heard as the distance between us legthened before disappearing around the corner as the man drove out fo sight.

I wandered back the way I cam once he was out of sight: making it indoors. I peeked out the window just to be sure I wasn't followed.

All I needed was for that man to come to the house and complain to my mother about the sand. I would have recieved a beating again for sure... or worse: she would take it out on my brother... a toddle who could barely lift his arms up for self defense.