Giving The Ring Back
What does it mean to tell the truth?
In Ensenada, the beaches are emerald green and sprinkled with blond 19-year-old white boys who go by the things that they do like ATC David and Preacher Nick! At 8 years old I was obsessed with ATC David. Not in the way I would be in love now; obsessing over his hard 4.5-inch cock and his fur-covered sick-pack abs and wondering when he would shoot his young (18 and over) ATC cum into my 45-year-old cunt. But it was more abstract then. I was in love with the way the world saw him. The way his whiteness lingered on the tongue of every conversation, and the way he and his friends ran down the sand in their 80 technicolored jams with no one stopping to ask if they could touch a little black boy's hair.
At ten years old when my knobby knees were wading in the ocean water as a clear blueberry crystal geyser, every once in a while I would see a baby shark skim across my black toes.
But in Mexico, there was no reason to be afraid.
I have these stories I tell. They are usually little vignettes. Me on the roof eating spaghetti with my mother.
The Bible says you must forgive seven times seventy-seven times. The god likes the number 7. Keep the sabbath holy and all that. jazz. I’ve never really been good with forgiveness. But it’s something I’m trying to work on in my old age. I wonder if I could do it seven times. Or two times. God doesn’t like the number 2. I think on the second day he separated the sky from the ground which isn’t very profound.
There were seven of us in a room. Me her who now goes by him, the black girl who calls herself a witch and is willing to do drugs with me. I like her. You know anyone is black and does drugs I’m down with that. I’m not so cool with the witchcraft stuff. But, that ain't none of my business… and then like 4 other people he who used to be the considered work and art friends. I don’t think they were very talented, so let's just call them work friends. And so we are sitting around the table eating gummy bears and kale chips and pretending to write scripts on our laptops. One of the guys is this straight guy who no matter what the subject always needs to share his opinion. Granted I also have that habit, but I’m not straight, and also not white, and also don’t wear my hair in that middle split like some old wanna Generation Z. So my opinion is valuable. And the conversation is getting more and more agitated. I don’t think it’s my fault. but. Who fucking knows. So he the friend who used to be a she is started to get somewhat irate about how women who are pregnant shouldn’t get work leave. And I’m starting to get irritated (Irate) because I don’t think you can say stuff like that in mixed company. And my black drug friend is trying to keep the pieces. And all the other people are starting to look down and pretend like their laptops are more interesting than this fight that is brewing. And I say “That sexist. You can’t say that about pregnant women in the workplace.” And he says’ How the fuck do you know; when was the last time you were ever in the work place?
And I hear the sound effect. “Bloop.”
Like “Bloop you just got read.”
Or “Bloop, bitch just put you in your place.”
And the black girl does a little spell to keep me from screaming: “You fucking cunt!”
At my male friend who has a cunt.
Bloop.
Breathe….
