December 14, 2007

Short Story 1: Howzit

“howziiiiiiit!” he says louldy right behind my head, my heart rate increasing the longer he draws out the word.


It takes me a moment to understand what he's saying. I turn around. “oh hey”


Everyone here is friendly, so this interaction is to be expected. The last city I was in, everyone ignored everyone. If you weren't being ignored, there was usually trouble.


Weeks go by, I begin to understand the accent. I don't cared if it's english, local dialiect can be pretty fucking far from the english I know.


I give a cigarette to a kid and I receive Mahalo.

I hear “give me da kine” and sort of understand what she wants this time.

One night a giant dressed in white sports jerseys lays on da pidgin right thick. It's a cool evening. The fan is on as well as the AC and I start to sweat. I barely understand a word he says. What's worse is that he wants to know about a computer, he tries using technical terms but uses the wrong ones. All made worse by this new to me language. He's patient and we make it through the conversation, I lose the sale anyway and he walks out empty handed.


Months have passed without problems and now I'm much more comfortable with this town.


I'm riding home one night after closing the shop, what the sodium lights lack in lumens they make up with adventure, I have to be extra alert and aware of my surroundings as I ride and I am. I ride past a couple of kids sitting on the concrete barriers.


“howzithowzithowzit!”

“oh hey!” and I nearly wreck my bike in front of everyone.



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