Prefarce 4
I'm fifteen years old and clueless. The Serb and I hang out on a street corner in the no man's land of Adler Street, above 92nd. We are in the company of the Most Handsome Athletic Popular Guy in our school. Four kids, a year or two older and unknown to us, pull up in a station wagon.
"Hi," the Pretty Blonde in the passenger seat greets us. "We're trying to see how many people we can fit into our car." Sounds fun to me. One of the boys from the back seat raises the tail gate and I hop into the back-back of the station wagon, excited at the prospect of an adventure. As the stranger begins to close the tail gate, the Most Handsome Athletic Popular Guy grabs the tailgate in one hand and me in the other.
"No, thanks," MHAPG says, yanking me out of the car. The strangers drive off into the night. It's only right now I realize MHAPG probably saved my oblivious life.
***
I should have asked 4 more questions from the start. The ones who go along quietly are the first ones led into the kill floor.
***
Okay, folks. You made it this far unscathed. Congratulations. Me? I'm tired. And I'm through making choices. This one is up to you. I cast my story's fate into your hands.
Four phone lines ring; Blinking lights beckon, each a pathway to an unknown future.
Which line do you answer?
YOU ARE READING
A Year Of Living Stupidly
HumorWhat do you do when you're twenty-nine and you forgot to light the world on fire? On the verge of superstardom, a Hollywood singer loses everything and struggles to find meaning in life on the other side of the velvet rope. He's always been a rock...
