Day V

Poor Joe

     In the mix of it all somebody looked up, and screamed:

      “Oh shit it’s them!” and pointed at us.

      “Let’s git em!” somebody else yelled.

     Everybody looked up, and she remembered seeing Joe’s mug, because he was almost falling off the roof to see where the cigar landed. It was funny as all hell to me, because he had a real big thing for her; she was the one; he had wet dreams about her; but, he never had the nerve to tell her. He would only look at her, and smile. Oh, she smiled back, but that was as far as it went, he always choked.

     “She makes me noivess, man!” He would say, and so he never hit on her, he was afraid to talk to her.

     After that she wouldn’t even look at him. Anyway, it was just too much, we tried to laugh, but somehow it just wasn’t funny. I felt worse for him than I did for Jimmy, who launched the cigar into the air. When he inhaled, he had a nasty spasm, and reacted by flinging the stogy out of his mouth, as he started to gag. Nicotine increases your bronchial secretions. Anyhow, we never saw him fling it, all we remembered is him hacking, and the cigar flying through the air.

    As we scrambled off the parapet, I looked back at James, who missed it all. He was spitting, retching, and hacking away. I started to tell him what happened when Joe interrupted:

     “Da chase is on man, dem mofoes be coming ta git us!” and we ran off the roof.