PINTA PARADE

The next night as I am listening to Tori Amos working on my speech there is a hand pounding against my window. It is the college girls. They have discerned that I have been spying on them every night for the past two months. They are going to eat me alive.

There is slap again. I look out. I hear a voice all to familiar and semi-guttural call my name

“Dude,”

It is Patrick. I go to the backdoor.

“Pat man, what the hell you doing out here bro its 11 o’clock at night.”

He doesn’t answer me,. He is smoking a cigarette and looking down into his tattered shoes.

“I finally spoke with Amy.” Patrick takes another drag. I ask him if he is alright. 

“We didn’t speak long. We didn’t really talk about much. When I asked her if she wanted to go to a movie next Friday when Christmas break began she told me she was busy. I took that as she never wants to see me again.”

“Pat, I’m sorry bro. Dude, Limestone in a couple weeks. You said it yourself, girls out the ass there.”

Pat shrugs his shoulders.  He is despondent.


"It'll be all good brother. At least you still have Renae and I'm getting out of that shithole called Manual high. It'll be all good bro."


Patrick takes another drag off his smoke.

He tells me again that it will be all good.