Thug Life

Come on Will, it'll be easy, we said. You know where it is, just take it and we'll do it, we said. So Willie took it and we went to the convenience store.

In the car we talked about how badass we were and took turns holding it and posing like we were criminals. We played Notorious B.I.G. and the streets looked real gritty and tough to me. I imagined standing on a corner and looking hard at everyone who passed by. Bobby drove the car like a real gangster, with the seat reclined real far back and with one hand on the wheel. We blasted our music and yelled at the passing cars. We all laughed at them because we were crazy tough. There were five of us, and I sat in the back with Will in the middle.

When we rolled up we talked real loud about what we would do once we were in there. We let Will have the gun since it was his and all. Will was such a wimp anyway, we thought we ought to give him a chance once in a while. Yeah Will, you can do it, we said. Just point it at that guy and tell him to give you the money, we said. You'll be a real gangster. So Willie put his dad's gun in his pants and we went with Willie into the convenience store.

When we got into the store, Willie actually waited on line while we stood guard near the exit. Can you believe it? He actually waited on line to rob a convenience store. When he finally got to the front of the line, Willie talked real low and lifted his shirt up to show the guy his dad's gun. Gimme the money man, he said. Boy, we ran out of there as fast as we could and jumped into Bobby's car. That guy's nuts, we said. Pulling a gun on somebody like that.

After Bobby dropped me off and I had gotten inside, I ran to the window and looked all night at the house across the street to see if Willie would come home. After a while I went over and asked his mom if she had seen him at all that night. When she said no, I walked slowly across the street back to my house. I shivered. It had gotten cold; I could feel a drizzle coming down.

A Real Clown

"Well, I mean... where do you start with a guy like Clyde? We all know how uh, how funny he was of course. I mean he was so successful with uh, with that, of course. You know, before all this, he asked me to wear this tie. Can you believe it? This tie! It's ridiculous! I mean, folks I'm not that, you know, insensitive guy. Ha ha, no no, we're good friends. You know that's how far he'd go for a laugh though, you know? He'd want that.

"I guess I should start with how we, how we came to meet, I guess. Well, ha ha, I guess it's obvious by now that I haven't really prepared anything, and, well I'm sorry if I ramble and ramble. Clyde would always be yelling at me to get to the damn point hahaha. Oh boy I guess I can't say that, I'm sorry. No, no disrespect intended. We uh, me and Clyde first met each other... well... I guess I don't know, to be honest. As far back as I can think we've been best buddies. It's uh... it's uh... it's gonna be pretty weird you know, now.

"Anyway we were always good friends and Clyde well, he'd always be the class clown you know? He'd always be making everyone laugh all the time. I mean it was his way of, I don't know how to say this. I mean we weren't big or athletic, but Clyde, he was funny you know? I think that's why he's so funny, because he knows that. He's big enough to laugh at himself, you know? He was a real pioneer in that respect. And well, I think that's why, he's been so succesful as you all know.

"I mean you could just see him up there in those ridiculous suits ha ha. You know I think the one he has on now is the only decent thing I've ever seen him where ha ha ha. Well ha ha. I mean anyway. You could tell the man loved what he did. Everybody loved him you know? And he lived for it, absolutely lived for it. He'd do anything for a laugh.

"Some of the things he said up there on stage. Killer, abolutely killer. I don't know how he did it. I mean I'd die of embarrasment. But that's the thing, that's the thing about Clyde. He didn't care, as long as he got people to laugh. He put everything out there, you know? Self esteem, who needs it? Ha ha. A bad set to him was, the end, you know? It killed him. Well, it. Well he hated it, I guess those weren't the right, I guess I could have said it better. It was like an addiction ha ha. Well. You know, a healthier kind.

"I'm not going to talk about it here, it's just not right, you know? But... well, I'd never thought we'd all be here like this, you know? Dearly beloved and all that. Such a damn... Well anyway, Clyde. He was. He was a real original. I mean, who else do you know would tell his best buddy to wear this tie to his funeral? It's in the man's will! It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. What a clown! A real... a real clown, he was.

"And you know, it eventually, it became part of the joke for him. He'd always say how much he hated his job, you know the whole uh, the whole comedy thing, how he hated the work. I mean he told me once he thought he was a big stupid clown I think he said. Ha ha. I told him everybody loves clowns, I said that to him: Clyde, everyone loves clowns! And if you don't like it so much, you know, stop doing it then, you know? But that would only make him more uh, agitated. That was pretty hysterical for me, you know. Nobody ever really heard that about him."

Good Qualities, Life Skills

At the end of fourth grade, my last year in elementary school, my teacher made us each take out a blank piece of paper and write our names on it. We were to pass this piece of paper around to everyone in the class, and we would write down one good quality about that person. Things like 'athletic', 'pretty', and 'cool'. I assume the intent was to boost our collective self-esteem before we were shipped off to the summer, followed by the great undiscovered hardships of middle school. When I got my sheet back, the two overwhelming responses were 'funny' and 'smart'. It was around that time that I set my sights on becoming a professional rodeo clown.

For the rest of my scholastic career, I was a completely normal kid, aside from being somewhat exceptionally "funny" and "smart", of course. The only difference between me and the other kids was that they all aspired to be businessmen or astronauts or doctors or whatever it is kids envision themselves being when they grow up and I wanted to put on makeup and colorful clothing and and prance around in front of a half-wild animal. Cowboys are considered the pinnacle of American ruggedness, and I would be their savior with my zany antics and quick instincts.

My parents couldn't understand it. I was a well-off asian living in a picturesque suburban community in New Jersey, receiving a top-notch education. My parents had worked hard to get me there. They gave me a head start in life, and they expected me to make good on it. They treated my dream like a childish fantasy, even though I still talked about it through high school. The matter became more serious, however, when it came time to apply to colleges.

My grades were excellent; my teachers loved me. My guidance counselor informed me that these things would undoubtedly lead me to the college of my choice. And this, of course, was important if I ever wanted to be the best person I could be. I received applications and scholarships in the mail from places I had never heard of before. My parents dedicated a basket to the accumulating pile, and eventually two.

Of course, I applied to schools; I had no choice. I couldn't see myself at any of them. I spent my nights driving around aimlessly in my car, listening to country music and longing for the open plain. One day in March, shortly before I would receive word from my prospective schools, I left.

As I rode the bus to Texas, the houses and the pavement condensed into the single road on which I was traveling. I slept on the dirt at night under a sky that grew ever clearer as I continued, until finally I was sleeping in the Lone Star State, in a motel in the town of Mesquite, the rodeo capital of Texas.

I found work quickly in the rodeo-crazed town, and soon found success, despite my rather non-traditional upbringing. There were many times when I feared for my life, but I found my life more thrilling than I ever had. I gained enough clout to make suggestions to the manager of my small rodeo, and even manged to turn one of those suggestions into reality. Ours was the only rodeo act that featured a trampoline.

Eventually the time had come to introduce my innovation. I watched a cowboy give a good effort on an indifferent bull, managing to last mere seconds before being tossed dangerously away. He landed awkwardly, and was clearly injured. I jumped into the pit, along with a few of my colleagues. I did a cartwheel and flailed my arms like a crazy man, managing to attract the animal's attention, while drawing a laugh from the crowd. The bull reared its head and prepared to charge. I sprinted full speed away from it. The bull gave chase, despite the best efforts of the other rodeo clowns. Running along the outside of the ring, I thought quickly, and began frantically shouted my manager's name.

"Harry! The trampoline! Harry! Harry!!!" Between screaming and sprinting, I felt that my lungs would soon burst. I was beginning to panic, and the bull was beginning to draw near. Just as I could imagine it breathing down my shirt and impaling me on one of its horns, my salvation dropped a few yards before me. I dashed toward the trampoline, and with what felt like my last breath, left the ground, bounced off the trampoline, and headed skyward, out of the pit of the beast.

Saying Grace

Y'all gon' sit down, have a good time this reunion,
And drink some wine like communion,
And act like everything fine and if it isn't,
We ain't letting everybody in our family business.

-Kanye West

-----

Rainwater mixed with tears on Luke's face, collecting salt as a river collects sediment on its journey to the ocean. A year had passed since his wife came here, to the John Adams Community Graveyard where she was laid to rest. In a way, he had come to live here too. He sold his house soon after her death, and moved about a block away from the cemetery.

He knew that it must have looked awfully morbid, but he explained to his friends that the price on his new house was too good to pass up, and that it was simply too painful to live in that house. Of course it didn't help that he visited her every weekend. It had gotten to the point where he was becoming known by name at the florist's. When the cumulative cost of buying all those flowers became too high, Luke took up gardening.

His garden was the envy of all his neighbors. It took up all the space in his yard. His two young sons, the older about ten, and the younger eight, now had nowhere to play, and no way to distract themselves. His father put them to work for a small allowance working out in the garden and their skin grew thick and their muscles strong.

The move also brought the family to a new church. The pastor, Father Mitchell, was a relatively young priest, only in his late thirties. His eyes and his voice, however, sounded like those of a man ten or twenty years wiser, a quality Luke found to be familiar and comforting. Father Mitchell first heard of Luke's green thumb at the church's weekly bagel breakfast after mass. Being an avid gardener himself, Father Mitchell approached Luke one Sunday as he was leaving church.

They introduced themselves, and shook hands politely. Luke told the priest his boys' names, and the two men immediately began enthusiastically discussing their gardens. The boys stood to the side in discomfort. Father Mitchell took Luke to the back of the church, where he had a beautiful and well-kept variety of plants. Luke, being the competitor he was, invited Father Mitchell to his home for dinner that night in order to display his own garden.

That afternoon, Luke worked his boys harder than ever in the yard. They worked until they were dog-tired, and little time to clean up before Father Mitchell arrived. The priest drove up at about six o'clock. The boys answered the door. They were both very well dressed, but Father Mitchell noticed traces of dirt on their skin, and a great weariness in their eyes. However, he soon placed these things in the back of his mind as Luke appeared and invited him to the table.

Father Mitchell led the evening prayer and blessed the food and the children. He soon found that Luke was not as adept a cook as he was a gardener. Luke apologized for the food, and explained that he was not the cook his wife was. Father Mitchell inquired as to when she had passed, and Luke told him, but quickly began talking about his garden, a subject which Father Mitchell gladly took up.

After dinner, the two men went outside to see Luke's garden, and the boys were sent to bed. Father Mitchell said goodnight, and watched them trudge up the stairs, threatening collapse with each step.

Once Luke felt satisfied that he had succesfully bested Father Mitchell's gardening abilities, the two men went inside to the living room. They each took a seat in front of the television. They sat in silence together, a widower and a priest, watching Home and Garden. Father Mitchell thought only about the boys and their haggard appearance and their tired eyes.

Eventually it came time to leave, and the two men said their goodbyes in the doorway. As they grasped hands, Luke saw for the first time a wedding band on Mitchell's right hand. As Luke looked in his eyes with surprise, he realized where the extra years in the priest's eyes had come from. The had come from a place Luke knew all too well. Before getting into his car, Father Mitchell shouted to Luke, who was still standing in the doorway, speechless. "You have a beautiful garden, my friend," he said. "But I think you should take better care of what you've got growing indoors." With that, he got into his car and drove away.

Luke watched his car leave his field of vision, and stood in his doorway for a long time afterward. When he could see it no more, his vision suddenly blurred and tears drew slowly and heavily down his face. Without even closing the door, he walked upstairs, into his sons' room and roused them from their sleep. After getting them out of bed, he embraced them tightly. The boys began to weep in their fathers' arms. Despite their thick skin and their dark eyes, the father felt that he had never held anything so delicate.