and how crowded we all was in the bed and how them feathers in the pillows was smelling all clean and powdery.
As soon as I stood up I knew I had a migration headache. It was like I got stabbed in the brain. I walked around to the front. I had to use my hand to push off the side of the Dumpster for balance. When I saw the pink otel Motel sign blinking it hurt my eyes so bad I almost fell against the Coke machine.
There wasn’t nobody back in the room and all of the sudden everything started to feel like it was going too fast. I found my pants under the chair and pulled them over my Pro Flyers. My gat was still in the leg pocket so that was a good sign.
At first I thought Boobie and Curl skated cuz the room felt all big and empty and them wallpaper fish looked all evil like they was laughing at me, so I started crying like a little bitch, like Winnebago Bruce from Oconomowoc. But after a minute I saw the keys to the Skylark on top of the baby’s TV and I cooled out.
I sat on the end of the bed for a minute. My migration headache was pounding. All you could hear was some cars hissing down the highway. It was like they was hissing right through my brain meat.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed a toothpaste cup and skated. I had to be careful cuz at the other end of the otel Motel there was all this broken glass on the sidewalk.
I walked up to each door and put my toothpaste cup against it like they do in the movies. All you could hear was people snoring and shifting around in their beds.
In room 6B there was some light coming through a crack in the curtain and you could hear voices. I put my toothpaste cup right up against the window.
Even though I had that migration headache I could hear pretty good.
First you could hear Curl, and then you could hear this man whose voice sounded like some furniture getting dragged across the floor. I couldn’t tell if Curl was laughing or crying.
I started to feel like if I kept listening I would get stuck there, so I left.
Back in our room I locked myself in the bathroom. The bathroom’s the only place you can go if you ever want to feel okay, cuz toilets make you feel safe cuz of how cool the water feels when you float your hand in them.
I used to do that at the Rockdale post office when I’d get scared. I’d just creep into a stall and float my hand and it always made me feel better.
But back in Little Chicago, even though I was floating my hand in the toilet, my face kept getting hotter and everything kept going all sweaty and spinning, and then my stomach started screaming, but I couldn’t eat them screams cuz that migration headache was messing with my insides. The next thing I knew I was spitting up yellow. It looked like this Mr. Clean stuff I used to use to mop Old Man Turpentine’s Fun Shop floor and it tasted like paint and it burped out of me for about five minutes.
After that yellow junk stopped coming out of me I just sat down on the floor and did some thirty-threes.
Curl’s voice was in the room now, going, “Quit! Quit, you!”
You could hear the baby squeaking, too. Them voices mixing with my thirty-threes started to make everything slow down.
Then the door closed and Curl got all quiet.
You could hear Boobie now, too. He asked Curl where she was. His voice was all deep and quiet so you could barely hear it. Curl just said how she wasn’t
nowhere
and then everything went dead for a minute and my mind got stuck trying to figure out how the baby got back in the room. Boobie must have been trying to sell him in the parking lot while Curl was working that man in room 6B.
Then Curl told Boobie how she got some money and you could hear him smack her.
Curl started going, “No, Boobie, no!” and “I got twenty thick, Boobie. Twenty thick!” and then there was them sounds that fists make when they bust a face and some furniture moving and something up against the door and then something falling off the dresser and crashing and Curl eating her crying
As soon as I stood up I knew I had a migration headache. It was like I got stabbed in the brain. I walked around to the front. I had to use my hand to push off the side of the Dumpster for balance. When I saw the pink otel Motel sign blinking it hurt my eyes so bad I almost fell against the Coke machine.
There wasn’t nobody back in the room and all of the sudden everything started to feel like it was going too fast. I found my pants under the chair and pulled them over my Pro Flyers. My gat was still in the leg pocket so that was a good sign.
At first I thought Boobie and Curl skated cuz the room felt all big and empty and them wallpaper fish looked all evil like they was laughing at me, so I started crying like a little bitch, like Winnebago Bruce from Oconomowoc. But after a minute I saw the keys to the Skylark on top of the baby’s TV and I cooled out.
I sat on the end of the bed for a minute. My migration headache was pounding. All you could hear was some cars hissing down the highway. It was like they was hissing right through my brain meat.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed a toothpaste cup and skated. I had to be careful cuz at the other end of the otel Motel there was all this broken glass on the sidewalk.
I walked up to each door and put my toothpaste cup against it like they do in the movies. All you could hear was people snoring and shifting around in their beds.
In room 6B there was some light coming through a crack in the curtain and you could hear voices. I put my toothpaste cup right up against the window.
Even though I had that migration headache I could hear pretty good.
First you could hear Curl, and then you could hear this man whose voice sounded like some furniture getting dragged across the floor. I couldn’t tell if Curl was laughing or crying.
I started to feel like if I kept listening I would get stuck there, so I left.
Back in our room I locked myself in the bathroom. The bathroom’s the only place you can go if you ever want to feel okay, cuz toilets make you feel safe cuz of how cool the water feels when you float your hand in them.
I used to do that at the Rockdale post office when I’d get scared. I’d just creep into a stall and float my hand and it always made me feel better.
But back in Little Chicago, even though I was floating my hand in the toilet, my face kept getting hotter and everything kept going all sweaty and spinning, and then my stomach started screaming, but I couldn’t eat them screams cuz that migration headache was messing with my insides. The next thing I knew I was spitting up yellow. It looked like this Mr. Clean stuff I used to use to mop Old Man Turpentine’s Fun Shop floor and it tasted like paint and it burped out of me for about five minutes.
After that yellow junk stopped coming out of me I just sat down on the floor and did some thirty-threes.
Curl’s voice was in the room now, going, “Quit! Quit, you!”
You could hear the baby squeaking, too. Them voices mixing with my thirty-threes started to make everything slow down.
Then the door closed and Curl got all quiet.
You could hear Boobie now, too. He asked Curl where she was. His voice was all deep and quiet so you could barely hear it. Curl just said how she wasn’t
nowhere
and then everything went dead for a minute and my mind got stuck trying to figure out how the baby got back in the room. Boobie must have been trying to sell him in the parking lot while Curl was working that man in room 6B.
Then Curl told Boobie how she got some money and you could hear him smack her.
Curl started going, “No, Boobie, no!” and “I got twenty thick, Boobie. Twenty thick!” and then there was them sounds that fists make when they bust a face and some furniture moving and something up against the door and then something falling off the dresser and crashing and Curl eating her crying
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