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Here's where I disappear.

The funny thing is, I actually really enjoy tutoring kids. I mean, I like kids. They're hilarious. I just don't particularly like going there. The bus can be a scary place. Actually, the bus is a scary place. Full of scary people. Which, largely, is why I don't ride the bus home anymore.

"Everyone here," he said. "Everyone here is fake."

I nodded silently, shooting a furtive glance to the woman behind me. Things were getting out of hand. "People are just fucking fake here, man. Up in fucking Chicago," he went on. "People were fucking real. There was no fucking 'Blood' or 'Crip' shit going around. Look at me." I looked up at him. "I'm fucking somebody. I'm fucking GD governor. GD. Gangsta disciple. I'm somebody, man. People here? They're fucking nobody."

"Damn, bro." I said. I checked my watch.

And, so, the conversation continued in much the same way for a while until another man came to the bus stop. "Hey, 'scuse me." He said. I turned to look at him. "Hey, yo, what time is it?" I raised my arm to tell him the time. The GD governor stepped in, pushing my arm down.

"Nah, don't tell him shit. Hey," he said to the other man. "Fuck your shit."

They exchanged a few mildly to extremely offensive words before things settled down again. After a few minutes of being lectured about how real the Gangsta Disciples were and how fake Austin was, the other man approached us. "Hey, I got a question for you." The governor turned him and cut in. "Get out of here what that shit--"

The other man got up in his face and screamed, "Shut the fuck up before I kill you!" Everything got quiet. I'm going to die here, I thought. "Now," he said, turning back to me. "How come when I asked you what the time was before you looked at me all shitty like?" "No," I said. "Right, no, I was going to tell you--"

"Hush up, don't answer that shit." The governor interjected. "Hey get the fuck on out of here," he said to the other man. "Else I'm going to beat the shit out of you."

This riled up the other man and they both started going at it. They began to grapple there at the bus stop and I stood there, a bit confused as to what I ought to do. The other man swung is arm at me, trying to connect and trying to grab me. "I got urges!" He yelled. "I kill people! I kill people on the weekends! I got urges to kill people!" I scanned up and down the street, looking--praying--for the bus to come.

"Get over here, baby boy!" The woman cried. "Baby boy, get on over here, get away from them!" I snatched my bag and slipped to the old woman's side. "We going to get on that bus and get the hell out of here." She said.

"Get back over here you cracker bitch!" The other man yelled.

The bus came, the woman and I jumped on and, after making some quick suggestions to the bus driver, began our journey home. "Go home, baby boy." She said. "Don't ever come back to this damn place. Just go on home and don't look back."

"Okay," I said.

Then, for the rest of the bus ride home, she told me about her life as a drug addict and prostitute.

Comments

Carolynn said…
Good timing.

Also this is a good story. Your dialogue within your anecdotes is so natural and smooth.
October 24, 2011 at 10:41 AM
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