Thursday, June 18, 2015


hadda admit, i quite like my flash fiction friday #59; [inclusions]trigger: machine, concentrate, alone, astray

coming from behind i pass a baldhead black fella precariously dangling the longest ash i ever see, singing rihanna bitch better have my money hard hard, word for word, full-on chicken-neck and ducklips pouting around the butt, clearly forgetting he in the car and not his bedroom. i let my grin escape the confines of propriety the same moment my stride and his neckswivel make we eyes make 4 and i hastily drop with mine to the pavement, slightly amazed i can even smile right now, mess that i am, girl undone, led astray, ruined…
…concentrate on the task at hand: straight to the parlour, hot guinness, as instructed; handle the part that is yours…he shoulda talk to his cousin by now, ent; call? you mad?! he mad? of course! who wouldn’t be?
as if beckoned by my interior commess…pathetic fallacy, ent? just learn that the other day; but maybe is only for weather…the road penetrates, way more pong than necessary for the hour; afternoon rush, allyuh eh tired?! i suddenly aware how exposed i am out here, walking, the only one alone; other uniforms clutter the pavement in groups but i am the only one in mine; we don’t lime in the road in our uniform after school. steups. watch me get ketch stupid stupid out here now…and i supposed to be scholarship material?! although, in my defense, my plan didn’ include change of clothes because when we was done i was jumping straight in a car right outside his door and getting out on my streetcorner; hot guinness wasn’ on my itinerary…shit…call, boy? he’ll be more upset to hear my voice asking if he ok or more upset if i doh check? wait until i drink it and reassure him i had the hot guinness? right now he could even worry about breaking inside, with a bus’ frenulum? well, at least he know i eh lie ‘bout being a virgin…but look how whole time i pray for deus ex machina to rid me of him after he rid me of cherry i didn’ really think it could happen…who coulda predict tearing that?! and all i know is, now i doh hadda study he coming ‘round again, and no mess that shower didn’ fix…

walk good.


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