yousseff crawls into the gap between the slats straddled together aging brown. called fence. he pinpicks a stem of grass and twirltwists it into his left nostril, giving him tingles shuddering. breaking on through to the other side. the neighbor’s yard. standing man permanently smiling over the flowers. ducks swimmering in a mini pond. overshadowing trees around the edges, youseff pretends that he is an investigator looking for the alligator’s tooth, the mystic jewel of the keys, buried by pirates past.
could that be red beard, blue beard? no, pirates don’t wear caps like that. plastic. it doesn’t really figure into youseff’s imagining, it just surprises him suddenly when he doesn’t expect it there, posed miniature and unnatural. he slithers forward like a snake, stealthy. could be natives with their guns guarding. or nazis on the quest for ancient booty. everyone searching, searching. but he is the one destined for the secret, guided by the star of his destiny. a snail lolling on a leaf. he pokes it with a grass stem, watching it shrivelshrink into itself. he throws it into the pond. circles, moving outward. a phone ringing. he hears a shrill voice calling, filtering to him through an open kitchen window. Walter, WaaulTeeer! Yousseff feels the sicklysweet rush of adrenaline course through his flabby young body. he run-crawls back to the fence, feeling the imaginary bullet fire of enemys eyes barreling into his bottom. he catches his finger on a splinter as he pulls through, tears stinging out of his eyes. unfair. not fair not fair not fair.


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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