Bugging Out on the Endless Peak
by Steven Hager
copyright 2012 by Steven Hager
Published by Steven Hager at Smashwords
ISBN: 978-1-4658-0960-5
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Saturday, 5 p.m.
A pretty, 19-year-old girl named Alyse is standing behind the counter at the Vicenza Pizza Parlor on the corner of Van Wyck Boulevard and Jamaica Avenue in Queens, slapping flour on a wad of pizza dough, anxiously watching the clock, anxious to go home. She has a round face, a squat, muscular body, and wears a gold-plated name tag around her neck. This would be the last Saturday shift for Alyse—it was getting in the way of her dancing.
Enter Mister Glide, a young Puerto Rican and the president of a local break-dance crew known as the Dynamic Rockers. The crew is well-known—they've been in the Daily News and the New York Times and are negotiating a European tour. Mister Glide wears a sweatshirt, baggies, and flap boots. Studded leather belts are wrapped around his waist, his ankles, his wrists; he looks like a walking S&M shop. Alyse puts a cheese calzone in the oven.
Did you shake it?" he asks.
Alyse giggles. She once told him that her calzones taste the best because she shakes her ass to the music on the radio while she kneads the dough. The more she shakes, the better they taste. Apparently, he likes the idea—every time he comes in he asks the same question.
"Yeah, I shook it," says Alyse.
"You goin' to the Fun House tonight?" he asks. It's a rhetorical question. Alyse always goes to the Fun House on Saturday night. "I think maybe I'll go too," he says.
"The best thing for youse to do," warns Elyse, "is not to go to the Fun House no more." She remembers what happened the last time Dynamic showed up. The Fun House is not their territory.
"Nah, nah," says Mister Glide. "I'll bring my boys. You'll see."
He picks up his calzone, puts $1.50 on the counter and exits. (Mister Glide and his boys, however, will never later appear.) Two hours later, Alyse is home, frantically trying to get ready in time. If she doesn't get to the Fun House by 11, she'll have to pay $12 admission. Before 11, girls get in free. She has less than two hours to shower, dress, and pack her bag. It wouldn't be so bad if there weren't so many minor annoyances to slow her down—like a constantly ringing phone. It's her boyfriend, Nick. He doesn't want her hanging out at the Fun House tonight.
"What!" says Alyse in disbelief. "You can't tell me that! My father can't tell me not to go to the Fun House!"
Alyse's mother shakes her head.
"Dancing never help you," she says in a thick Yugoslavian accent. "Want to be somebody? Go to school!"
Alyse laughs. She loves her mother, but what does her mother know about freestyle dancing? Alyse packs her bag first because that's the easiest part. Baby powder, deodorant, two t-shirts, towel, an outfit for the next morning, tennis shoes (for the warm up), leather shoes (for the stage), eyeliner, lipstick, studded belts, earring, toothbrush, toothpaste, cologne, and her "Mama Juice" sweatshirt. That prestigious title was awarded to her after she founded the Juice Crew. Dancing is hard work, especially if you do it for 10 hours at a stretch. Alyse takes a break every few hours, pours baby powder down her back, brushes her teeth, and puts on a fresh shirt. That way, when she walks out of the ladies room, she feels like a new woman.