Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Elders talk it over...

Aunt Yvonne lit up a cigarette and plopped down in her chair nearest the front window, her “neighborhood watch seat”. We sat on the sofa across from her.

“Paul, you know damn well, that John ain’t bit mo’ thinkin’ ‘bout no GED than that damn dog o’ his.”

“That maybe so, ‘Vonne, but these kids need somebody to keep talkin’ it up. Maybe somethin’ will get into their heads. You know how wild we were at his age. Who knows what turned me around out them streets.”

“Chil’, will you go get me a beer? I got some sodas & juice in there, too if y’all want somethin'. I think I got some cookies & chips in ‘ere, too. Bring 'em out here.”

I stood up, “Daddy, you want somethin' to drink?”

He glanced up and grinned at me, “Yea, I’ll take a beer, too, please. Thanks, Susie.”

“Paul, I’m tellin’ you, these damn kids ain’t like we were. They ain’t got respect for nobody. Yea, we did our li’l shit, but they on a whole ‘nother level. We wasn’t gettin’ locked up every time you turn aroun'. These damn kids'll shoot you as quick as speak to you.”

“’Vonne, kids are still kids. They just want guidance. Tha’s why they keep gettin’ locked up. Parents ain’t guidin’ ‘em, so they going up ‘gainst the other authorities. I still think kids want to know that everybody ain’t gave up on ‘em.”

“A’ight, Paul. You keep your faith in ‘em. But I’m just saying you betta watch yo’ back and ya damn wallet ‘roun’ ‘em.... Thank ya, baby.” Aunt Yvonne reached up to take the beer I extended to her.

I handed Daddy his beer, put the snacks on the low coffee table in the center of the small living room, then reclaimed my seat on the sofa. I munched chips and listened to my elders banter back and forth about the future of my cousin, John.

“I know what you sayin’. I ain’t completely out of touch, 'Vonne. I figure if John don’t call me ‘bout his GED I ain’t gonna keep houndin' him or come lookin’ for him. But if he do call me, what harm is there in helpin’ the boy? It ain’t no skin off my back to drive him to the city college and help him in enroll in the program.”

“Shit, you betta sit there and take every damn class with him. That boy don’t do nothin' like he ‘sposed to. He don’t show up nowhere regular unless it involves drinkin’ a forty, smokin’ a blunt or a damn dog to fight.”


...an excerpt of a work in progress by The Writeous1
*click on image for source.