“The store...” I thought outloud. “The store...maybe pops would be there!” I became elated. I had a lot of money left over from Chapter Two, I mean, yesterday.

Yesterday. I remember it like it was only yesterday.

I met a man, who was on his way to bingo. Soon, I had all the money I would ever need. At least that’s what...uh...what's her name said. My wife. I remember the look on her face, as she disappeared in the blue water. Swirling, swirling, swirling...no wait, that was Bobbi-Jo.

Never mind.

The money came in handy, but no amount of money will ever replace Bobba-O’Reily...what's-his-name.

The ferret.

We got the car, and soon we were at home eating. “I don't feel so good,” she said. “I think we're supposed to cook this hamburger before we eat it." She said, "I know what it's like to be dead.”

I said, “No, no, no, your wrong...When I was a boy, everything was...”

“Shaddup and go to work,” she screamed.

So I did.

I was pushing shopping carts, at the store, at work. Papa was not there, I had already looked. But I figured that if I hung out there long enough he would eventually show up. Anyway, I was pushing this cart across the street back to the store when I noticed two big men shoving another man into the trunk of a big black limousine. As I stood starring, one of the men noticed me and walked over.

“What the fuck are you looking at...Mutha-Fucka?” He asked, flashing his big, gold, horse teeth.

“Nothing...Mutha-Fucka,” I said, and continued pushing the cart.

Whoa, son,” he said as he pulled out a big, shinny pretty gun. “You stop right there!”

“Where?”

“Right there!” he said.

You see, I was walking and got confused, “But I was over there when you first said that,” I explained pointing to the sidewalk. “Should I go back to the sidewalk?” I said as I started back to the location.

“I said stop there! Yous stoopid Mutha!” he yelled.

“You mean here?” I said pointing down.

I'm gonna kill you right here and now!” He shouted.

His partner walked over. I noticed he was a big Dolomite looking Mutha-Fucka.

I was saved!

“Kill dat stoopid Mutha-Fucka!” the dolomite lookin’ Mutha-Fucka said.

“I’m afraid you have seen too much,” the first Mutha-Fucka said, while chuckling. “Now you must die.” I'm gonna blast a cap in your Mutha-Fuckin’ marshmallow-puff-boy lookin’ white ass...Mutha-Fucka!”

I remember what my Mutha-Fuckin’ mother said about deterring attackers. She went to a Mutha-Fuckin’ self defense class, and taught me two important Mutha-Fuckin’ steps that would save me.

So I pissed my pants.

And vomited.

Both men started laughing and the first Mutha-Fucka dropped his gun. I rolled over to the dropped gun, picked it up, and laying on the ground, I shot the first Mutha-Fucka. The bullet entered just below his knee and exited out his left eye. Blood and gooey stuff splattered on his friend, the dolomite lookin’ Mutha-Fucka.

Quickly, I jumped up and kicked the other man in the face. Jackie Chan would have been a proud Mutha-Fucka. The spikes from my golf shoes tore his face completely off.

It looked like it really hurt bad, so I asked him if he wanted some of my Ju-Jube fruits. He didn't answer.

I watched, dripping with blood as they both silently fell to the ground. I wiped my hands on my smock and threw the gun far, far, away. I took the cart and proceeded across the street.

Page 3

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