NaNoWriMo Excerpt: Good

Good


I. "I awoke to not one window shattering, but two windows shattering. Opening my eyes was a difficult task, because it had been a long night before, and they were encrusted with sleep. When I finally mustered the strength the open my eyes, I saw a rather skinny woman pacing back and forth between the hallway, muttering multiple combinations of profane words that I'd never think of. Still laying in the exact same position as before, I tried to recall the woman's name. It was either Tracy, or Kim. It didn't really matter though. At least not to me. She would be gone in a little while, after her rampage was finished.

Typical Saturday morning to me. I sat up in my bed, thinking of where I felt like going that particular day. I wasn't in the mood for just hanging around the block today; today I felt like cruising around town all day. Past nightfall.

Only one person [that I was cool with] had a car on the block, and that was K.B., who was two years my senior, which meant he had a driver's permit. But would we be riding with an adult in the car? Hell no. "Just watch the red lights, and respect the stop sign." K.B. would say.

While I was still sitting up in my bed, I heard a rather exaggerated scream, and another loud crash, presumably the living room window. The woman, whom I'd ultimately decided name was Tracy, came back up the stairs, and came into my room. "Whoa there, slow your roll. You can throw my dad's shit out of the highest window you can find, but don't touch none of my stuff. I ain't do nothin to you, no ways." I said, walking towards the enraged woman who was almost foaming at the mouth, her hands palmed around my small portable TV. She stood there, looking as if she were calming down, although I noted her hands never left my TV.

"Bitch, you done?" My father asked with a tone that seemed as if she were taking too long destroying all of our electronic appliances. So much for her calming down. With a scream of an Amazon, she pushed, or at least, tried to push my TV to the ground. Luckily, I caught it in my chest, preventing any damage to my own property.

I noticed my dad didn't just insult the woman with a derogatory term and a tone to match, but he added insult to injury by arriving to the scene with a toothbrush in his mouth. As if this were an everyday occurrence. Which it was, only with a different woman every other weekend.

"Man, control you're woman!" I said, yelling into the hallway at the two who were marching down the stairs, Tracy with a pricey miniature grandfather clock in her hands, my father with a toothbrush. I wish I could say that the scene was hilarious, and I was able to get a good laugh out of it. But I can't, because it was just sad now. It was a little tiring, waking up to something amiss every other Saturday, but by now, it was a norm. You could just ask the small crowd that would collect outside our house every time.

I wasn't exactly up to hearing the old timers outside, murmuring 'poor child', and calling my generation a bunch of heathens. I really had a low tolerance for old people, because of their being stuck in their old ways. It's the 80's baby! Get yours the fast way, is my personal motto. Which I think is a great motto if I do say so myself. It can apply to anything, women, or even money.

I grabbed a random shirt out of my closet, a red shirt with black lettering strewn across it. Since I dislike dressing unmatched, I carefully selected a pair of black jeans out of my closet. A lot of people that saw me in the pants were mystified, wondering why someone would wear such dark coloring in Louisiana. It seemed that they were also mystified as to why someone would wear jeans that weren't blue. A wonder of the world.

Looking down the stairs before I headed to the back den, I could see that Tracy had laid out a carnage that my dad had never seen before. The entire entertainment 'center' my dad had set up was on the lawn, and the VCR was gutted open, with wires and my recording of Richard Pryor's routine.

I crept to the back of the house, into the den. I wasn't supposed to really be back there, but it wasn't a rule of the house either. All he did was smoke the occasional reefer, and talk shit about the L.A. Lakers. The den was pretty messy, along with any other part of the house my dad inhabited.

My father isn't a bad man, although you could be swayed otherwise by my description of the events of the morning. He's just too damn wild. The guy likes to party, but then again, who doesn't? But he doesn't know when to stop. It's party 24/7 in his world, and if you're not taking part in the party well screw you buddy. I supppose the guy wasn't ready for a kid, too set in his college ways. Get drunk, get laid, wake up, rinse and repeat. But trust me, he isn't that bad.

I slowly walked down the dimly lit hallway, I let my left hand slide against the brown painted wall, my fingernails scratching against the peeling paint. The only light that the hallway received came from the bedroom windows, since we couldn't afford to have lights upstairs. Which in turn, meant the doors always had to be left open. Took away from my privacy a bit, but I'm sure I could being shooting up heroin with a naked girl in my room with no repercussions.

Every door was left open excluding the bathroom when in use, and the den, because my father was paranoid about Jeremy, my little brother stumbling in right when he was up to no good. But since he only visited every other weekend, and the den was left open today. I walked straight in, taking care to avoid the red plastic ups littered about the green felt carpet. I grabbed the set of house keys on the black cube that I guessed was supposed to be a coffee table, and walked over to the leather couch that was too common in black households.

When I made it over to the couch, I stood up on it, and attempted to open the window. But for some reason or the other, it was locked [ probably in a vain effort to detour Tracy's rampage. He probably thought she would open the windows and throw his shit out. I guess he didn't think she had the balls to smash his windows. ] so I had to recall which key belonged to the windows. I went through at least seven out of twenty keys before I found the correct key.

I lifted the heavy white paned window and with one more look behind me to make sure I didn't leave anything behind, and then I left the house.

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A/N: I'm semi-pleased with how this first part of the short story turned out, and the way I have it mapped out, I have about four or five more parts to do. I'm still debating certain things in my mind, but I do know: The stories place takes place in Miami, and the main setting will be a Ocean Drive esque area.

Now, to go to sleep.