After whipping up the remaining portion of his tears the boy swiftly picked up the clutter of clothing and toys scattered across his bedroom floor. He figured being fresh of the lamb from a first thing in the morning whooping he’d be more thought full and fly through his chours before going outside. After he finish straighting his room he went in to the bathroom and brushed his teeth and washed his face. He’d already gotten into his dress clothes before sitting down at the breakfast table that morning so he needed not change into anything. So after whipping the crude from the corner of his eyes he rushed out the bathroom, down the hall and pass the man sitting in his recliner. The boy reached the front door when he heard his dad,
“Slow down son. Don’t forget.”
The boy stopped pivoted and looked at his father trying to determine where he was coming from. Then it hit him. He rushed in to the kitchen snathed up the plastic trash bag sitting next to the kitchen trash bag. He snatched out a bag from the partially filled box of unfilled kitchen trash bag. While holding the end he swung snapping I opened and put it into the trash can. He then popped it open picked up the filled back next to it and ran toward the front door. The two eye briefly made contact as he passed by his father and the boy realized that his fathers expression read,
“Almost slipped up and got one anyway!”
And the man read the boys expression which was one of relief as he and his father had already estabilished that the boy could have and would have received a whooping had he rushed out to play with out first taking care of his chours.
Once outside the boy rushed down the concrete stair case leading from the second floor balcony of the apartment complex to the ground. He tossed the trash bag in the direction of the open trash ben and by then the routine was so consistent that he did even wait to see because he knew it went in. Then without pause he slowed his run to a trot and approached the group of his friends standing in the court yard.
“What’s up dawg?” spoke out to the group once he got in range. A couple of the responded in kind and one responded,
“Man Bud for a minute there it looked like you were about to commit suicide homeboy. What happened up there?”
“Huh?” the boy responded.
The guys continued on,
“Well, we were sitting out here waiting for you to come outside when we saw you open your bedroom window. And from the looks of it; you were crying like a little biaaatch!”
“Oh that!” The boy paused before continuing, “Nah, nah that wasn’t it. I had got some table salt in my eye this morning at breakfast and I was trying to let the wind to blow it out”.
The boy chuckled of the accusation that he was actually crying and was confident that his explanation would hold up against the scrutiny. One of the guys continued,
“You sure man? Cause from down here it look like you had snot strings and spit coming out of your mouth. It really looked like you were crying.”
The boy barked back at the group,
“Have you ever had table salt thrown in your eyes Niggas?” The crowds sat silent studying the boy, “Well, have you? Didn’t think so! Because if you had you’d know that table salt makes your nose run and your eyes water.”
“But how did you get table salt in your eyes man?” One of the boys asked.
“That’s the only way my parent’s know how to control me when I get angry. They got tired that whooping crap, because that just makes me angrier. So recently they’ve been pouring table salt into my eyes to punish me.”
“Daaaamn that’s fucked up dawg! You want me to tell my parents?”
“Nah… It’s all good homeboy. I told my mom I wasn’t drinking any more of that bullshit ass powdered milk. So she had to get my dad to hold me down while she poured salt into my eyes. I felt kind of sorry for cussing them out… So I apologized and told them to never put there fucking hands on me again.”
One of the boy’s closes friend, Quincy, who had a speech impediment combined with a stutter, spoke out in the boys defense.
“I…I…I ta ta ta ta TOLD you you you you you YOU FOOLS– that tha tha tha THAAT my nig nig nig nig NIGGA….. wasn’t cry cry cry cry cry cry CRYING!”
“Forget all of that”, Bud explained. The boy then asked the group “Where is my lizard?” He noticed the jar he kept it in next to the court yard fence was turned on its side and the cap removed.
“I don’t know dawg; it must have climbed out!” One of the youth responded.
“Unscrewed the topped, knocked over the jar, and just walked out. Right?” the boy asked the group sarcastically.