who are the people in your neighborhood?

Tony Ferguson

...or neighbourhood. barrio, district. however you say, "on the streets where you live"?

you never really know any of them. what fucked up shit they might be up to behind those closed doors.

those sounds that you sometimes hear...and the smells...

give money to klinkfamily

I posed lasiviously in the back seat, loose ass basketball shorts sliding this way and that. They both took turns checking me out in the rear view mirror. I lit a cigarette and pretended not to notice. Deep in my chest a little checkbox was being checked.

same as it ever was,
same as it ever was,
same as it ever was,
same as it EVER WAS

Now and then we caught a glimpse of Long Island from out behind the billboards and rest stop signs. Golden arches floated in the darkness.

It was a dream to really be there...three in the morning, going on four.

"I feel like you two have got something planned," I called out. "You know I reread BRANDTRUEBOY, the other night. I refreshed myself on everything that you both said."

"You mean everything that we wrote," Fitz said.

"That you wrote, whatever."

"It makes a big difference," Fitz said in that faggy tone that I despise.

"Words, words, words," Sterling said, yawning and leaning back like the mack.

"Half-truths and fiction," I said, struggling to light a cigarette. The match flashed in the rear view mirror, and for a second my face was lit up like a ghost. "That's all you're going to claim then. Huh."

"Who's making a claim? Not me," she turned and scrutinized me unapologetically.

"I think you're fucking with me," I proclaimed.

"Really? Well I think you're high," she returned.

"That doesn't mean you aren't fucking with me."

"That's true, TRUE," she laughed her famous, beautiful laugh and punched Fitz's arm in a way that seemed close to a real punch.

"I'm always fucking with you." She leaned over and put her face a few inches in front of mine. I could see her freckles in the passing headlights.

"Everyone is always fucking with you."

"What the fuck, I know!" I leaned back, miserable. My hands were two dead fish in my lap, lifeless, bloated. It took a couple of tries until I was able to bring them to my nose, so I could see if they stunk or not.

They smelled like nothing.