the kid ate sprinkled ice cream in the kitchen while grown-ups talked behind a closed door…

what’s your name? the little girl asked, Anthony…and you? she began counting the colored dots, Kimberly…you can call me Kimmy, her plastic pink spoon was lifted high in the air….

okay Kimmy….is that good?, she nodded her head yes, I thought so….mom’s back in the room?, Kimberly shook her head yes and the music from behind the door was turned louder….

mommy gets mad a lot, the kid said, she’s always getting mad at me, twisted and turned in her seat, do you get mad?, I told her sometimes, mommy gets really mad…

a Bronx Puerto Rican accent could be heard from down the hall, more Papi….more…Come-on….give me more….

she’s gonna get mad, Kimberly put her nose in the purple chocolate filled cup, I know when it’s going to happen…..right ’bout now….

fuck you Papi…fuck you mother fucker….

see….I told you….she’ll be out here any minute now….

The white door swung open and a stale amonia haze came forth, Kimmy grab your coat….grab your fuckin’ coat…., the Jamaican followed the crack whore down the hall….both worn down from an hour of rock blasting…

they straggled the walls and each other…senses gone…or…maybe in overdrive….

goodbye Anthony, Kimberly said as she was grabbed, I waved slowly…..and said,…. goodbye to you too Kimberly…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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