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Published by Second Wind Publishing, LLC.
Kernersville
Second Wind Publishing, LLC
931-B South Main Street, Box 145
Kernersville, NC 27284
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2009 by J J Dare
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Smell had a red hole where his right eye used to be. The joy-boys from Jackson playground had popped it out with one of their new toys. We saw when they did it; I had been with the other barbies, hiding behind a broken wall in the old restroom building.
My sister was with me; she had begged to come, even after I smacked her around and bloodied her nose. She wasn’t much good at watching, though; when Smell’s eye fell out and blood started pouring out of the black hole that was left, my sister had puked all over her shoes and mine. I smacked her again and told her to be quiet.
Smell’s bitch crawled over to me, crying. I watched as her chest heaved and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She knew she better not start bawling like Flea’s bitch had when her brother went to the good-night. When her brother started his forever-dream, Flea’s bitch wouldn’t stop crying until I had punched her in the stomach and shoved her face in a puddle under the swings.
The games were getting bloodier as we watched. Our imp-boys had good war toys, but they were old and not much good against the joy-boys new ones. My old man was looking worried as sat on his throne-hill and watched our imp-boys losing the battle. He had known that some of the others were finding more toys than we were, and he had told me to find out where they were getting them.
I had called a time-out with the joy-boys’ head barbie and was meeting her by the east gate in ten minutes. Just to be on the safe side, we had exchanged babies; I had hers and she had mine. If anything happened to either one of us, then the babies would be carved up like turkeys on Thanksgiving.
I took two of my good-girls with me and as we skirted the battlefield, I saw the pinkie finger on Ugly’s left hand sliced to the bone. He tucked his hand under his armpit to keep the blood from flowing and kept swinging away with his weapon. I was jealous of Ugly’s bitch; he was such a great soldier, he should have been leader instead of my old man.
Blaspheme. Good thing I hadn’t said it out loud. Bad talk sends people to Hell, my old man had told me. I had seen its rotten building across the road and smelled the gas from its broken pumps. I didn’t want to get stuck there.
We saw the joy-boys’ barbie at the east gate before she and her good-girls saw us. I was wondering whether or not to hide my own good-girls, when she looked up and spotted us. As we met them, she pointed her sticker at me. I drew my extra sticker and threw it at her feet. It stuck straight up in the ground and we both laughed at this sign of good luck. She drew a circle with her sticker and motioned for me to step in.
Our good-girls stayed a respectful, but watchful, distance away. I got down to the nitty and asked her where the new toys came from. “Tit-tat,” she replied. I thought carefully about what to trade. “Green?” I asked. She shook her head; money was out. “Candy?” I asked. She shook her head, again; she must have her own supply of rotters. I shrugged my shoulders; it was her turn to ask.
“Baby?” I thought long and hard about that one; she wanted to keep my baby for her own. When we had exchanged babies for the time-out, I had seen how sick and beat-up her kid was. Right then, sitting in the circle, it occurred to me that if our talking had turned into fighting, then carving up her baby wouldn’t have mattered to her. I tensed up, waiting for her to draw her weapon. She knew what I was thinking and, as a gesture of trust, she handed me her sticker.
“Deal,” I told her. My old man would throw a cow, but he knew what the stakes were in the games we played. I sent one of my good-girls back to get my baby’s things and told her to tell my barbies they could carve the other baby up. It would make them happy to destroy something, since girls weren’t allowed to do the big fights.
The info the other barbie gave me about the joy-boys’ new toys would help us, so giving up my baby was worth it. At least I wouldn’t be popped, like some of the other barbies had been when they wasted their own babies. One girl had gone to the sleep-sleep after her old man popped her for losing her baby down a sewer hole, and I had been there watching as red flowed out of mouth and nose and ears. That wouldn’t happen to me because I had traded my baby for the good cause.
We skirted the battlefield once more and crept into the old restroom. The baby that had been left there, the one from the joy-boys’ barbie, was scattered in a zillion pieces. The other barbies watched as I cried without tears for my baby; the kid was dead to me now. One of the barbies offered me her baby, but I refused. I would just have to struggle through until my old man gave me another one.
The battle was going to be a long one; even with their new toys, the joy-boys from Jackson weren’t able to score much on our imp-boys. Their toys were too new; they didn’t know how to use them in a way that would lead to a win. Nobody had been sent into the forever-dream of the good-night, like the brother of Flea’s bitch.
We had watched that night when he had been hit during a battle between our imp-boys and the dog-boys from the Mudside playground. We had watched as he lay on the ground and didn’t get back up. That’s when Flea’s bitch wouldn’t stop crying. Her brother had been the first imp-boy to sleep-sleep. We watched when the white ghosts came later and took him away in a black trash bag.
It was getting colder and just when it seemed like this fight was never going to end, we saw the leader of the joy-boys from Jackson jump off of his throne-hill and run away. He had seen the red-blue men coming and when he ran, that was a signal to all of us. We scattered into the night. The battle had been broken up, like so many before, but at least we were even. Neither side had won or lost, and next time, our imp-boys could fight with newer and better war toys.
We ran hard and fast through the dark alleys. When we got to our house, all the lights were out. My sister whimpered as I pushed her through the broken window in our basement. She was worthless and this was the last time I was going to bring her with me. She would never become some imp-boy’s barbie if she acted like a crybaby.
We tried to be real quiet as we crept up the creaky stairs to our bedroom. Our mom’s door was shut and we could hear her snoring and snorting in her sleep. I helped my sister wash the dirt and blood off with the water I kept under the nightstand and then I tucked her into her bed. I was tired, but I was also keyed up from the battle. I lay on my bed staring at the bugs crawling on the ceiling as I said my hopes:
I hope we win next time. I hope we don’t have trouble stealing the new toys. I hope we can find a new silver gun like the one my old man’s mom took away from him last month. I hope I never have to sleep-sleep in a black trash bag. I hope my old man finds me another baby soon, this time one with a plastic body instead of cloth. I hope my mom stays drunk and doesn’t notice what I’ve done to my sister’s nose. I hope my dad gets back soon from his trip up the river. I hope I don’t flunk out of third grade like Flea’s bitch did last year. Amen.
J. J. Dare self-published a book for a second grade project. She looks back on that 10 page, A+ success as the beginning of her love for the written word. Career, marriage, children and a divorce have not stopped this author from writing. In addition to penning numerous short stories, Dare is currently working on several novels in different genres.
Other books from J J Dare available at
Second Wind Publishing
http://www.secondwindpublishing.com/JJDare.html
False Positive: A tale of murder, war, espionage and vast conspiracy. Joe Daniels, thought he had at last escaped his brutal past. His placid world begins to unwind when his lovely wife Beanie is involved in an inexplicable accident that leaves her changed in every way; then ghosts from his past begin to emerge.
False World: The second book in the Joe Daniels' trilogy continues where False Positive ends as Joe continues his mission to destroy those who have destroyed his life. As the world changes, Joe's search for justice takes on a global urgency and he races to find answers before deadly answers find him. The world is not what you see. And neither is Joe.