Day CXXXlll

Hot dawgs, Boigahs, an Shit

     “Anyway, time came to scattah da ashes. So Tony, one a his bwodahs sez, y’all knew my bwoda Joe, he overcame heroin, ony to be kilt by nicotine. Alla those years ona street, shooting up, sleeping on roofs, in diz hea pahk, mugging peeps, and getting his hand chopped. He soivived alla dat shit, and he winds up dying from cigarettes. I think I’m gonna quit. Da wuz quite few quiet hee heees, muffled laughs, and some me toos, man.”

     “I gonna quit too…some day, but not na, man.”

     “Really!”

      “Yea, but lookey hea,  afta he stops jawing bout Joe, he dipped his bare hands ina  oin, and starts to spread da ashes out ova da grass, his favorite bench, up ina air, and all ova da effing place. Alla while his mom stood da dressed in black. She was both pissed, and sad man. She had on deeze dahk glasses, looking like Jackie O in a black dress, man. But once in a while she took em off ta wipes haw eyes, an they wuz like kinna glazed ya na, but no tears. She  wuz cwied out, man. I really felt sorry for her. Then as Tony was scattering da ashes he was also greeting peeps, saying hi, and offering them hot dawgs, boigahs, an shit, man. He wuz like,

     “Yo man, ya wanna a hot dawg?” He sez ta James, when he showed up!

     “James sed yea!”

     Then widda same hand he was handling da ashes, he grabs a dog and gives it to im, man. Right off James bites off half a it and sez,

     “Ummmmmmmmmm…good shit man, I was really starving, bwa!”