Erasure

by Percival Everett

  I’m standing outside the school lookin up at the second floor and I see that bastard who got me kicked out way back when. I was just sittin in the back of the class, mindin my own business when the fucka come back talkin shit.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Jenkins?” he ax.

  I’m just kicked back, chillin, talkin to Yellow. I look at Yellow like what this fool think he is and what he be sayin, like what language he be talkin and we bust out laughin. Then that muthafucka laugh too, like he makin fun of me. I get real quiet and cut a stare at him.

  “What you laughin at, cracker?” I say.

  “You, my man,” he say. “I’m laughin at you. You want to be tough, fine, but don’t drag all these other kids down the toilet with you. Right now, you feel good, strong, full of it, but when you get out there in that world, a world that doesn’t know you from a speck of dirt, when you’re twenty-eight, say, and you can’t read a job application and somebody else gets the job, then you won’t be so full of it. You’ll be just another loser with a dick that’s too small.”

  He throwin all them words out and then he gets to the part about my dick and I hear a couple of people laugh and I just lose it. Shit. My dick be twice as big as his. I jump up and knee the fucka in his balls. He slump over and I wanna make him suck me off in front of everybody, but I just hit him again, wif my fist this time, across his pasty white face. I cut my knuckle on his tooth and then I gets madder. The police come and pull my ass off him. The ambulance come and get him, sorry son of a bitch, fuck wif me like that, talk bout my dick. He the reason I didn’t graduate. I coulda been out there wif a good job, makin some good money in a office or sumpin, instead of liftin furniture for the man over at that warehouse.

  I got another coupla minutes before that lunch bell ring and that Willy the Wonker nigger come walkin down the street my way. He be singin that song what ain’t no song that always be gettin on people’s nerves. He swayin like the junkie he is, all fucked up and about to fall down and I laugh thinkin that if you gets really fucked up then you fall down, up, down, up down. He singin and swayin and preachin to the air, to the sidewalk, to the bus passin by.

  “Lawd Gawd,” he say, “let these niggers on these streets leave me alone today. Please, Jesus. Don’t let no drive-by gang punk-ass muthafucka put a hole in me. Don’t let no junkie kill me fo’ my junk. Don’t let no white man throw me in his dungeon. Don’t let yo son, who died fo my sorry ass, come back down here just yet, not until I gets my shit ironed out.” Then Willy see me. “Hey, I know you, young nigger.”

  “Just keep yo junkie ass away from me,” I say.

  “Junkie? Who you callin junkie? Sorry ass muthafucka. I’ll dust yo junkie ass off.”

  “Step bad if you wanna, bitch,” I say and look in his red and yellow eyes.

  “I know you,” he say. “I know you. You be Clareece Jenkins’ boy. I knew I knowed you. How old you now? Eighteen? Twenty?” He laughs and points at me. “I hit that shit back in the sebenties. Nigger, I might even be yo daddy.”

  A chill run through me and I feel my lip shakin. “I’m gone kick you in the ass, you don’t shut up.”

  “Fuck you,” he say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” he say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Yo mama still fat?” He smile big. “She was fat back then, not real fat, not too fat, but fat, you know, fat enough to make it fun.” And then he grab an invisible woman and fucked the air. “Clareece,” he croon out. “Clareeeece.”

  I was about to punch him in his face, but the lunch bell ring. I step on away from him. “You better watch yo ass, old nigger.”

  But the junkie won’t let me alone. “You do looks a lil’ like me, you know that?”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  “Round the eyes and mouf.”

  “I’m gone slam you, I swear to fuckin Gawd.”

  He back up then. “Okay. We cool. We cool.” And he give me a knowin look. “We cool.”

  Finally, Cleona come out the door and she be talkin to some pretty nigger. I walk up to her and I says, “Hey, baby.”

  She look at me and laugh, then turn to the pretty boy and say, “I’ll talk to you later, Tyrell.”

  “Yeah, she talk to you later, Ty-rell,” I say.

  The nigger just smile at me and then he walk on down the street where he climbs into a bright red Jeep. Rich-ass nigger muthafucka.

  “Ain’t that a blip,” I say.

  “What you mean callin me yo baby,” Cleona say. “I ain’t nothin to you, boy.”

  “You my baby’s mama,” I say.

  “So?”

  “Chill out, baby. Let’s go over to yo house so I can see Rexall.”

  “Fool, where I be right now?” she ax.

  “School,” I say.

  “And where my mama be right now?”

  “Work,” I say.

  “What you think, I’m gone leave a little retarded boy in a house by hisself?”

  “Let’s just go to yo house then,” I say.

  “Don’t even go there,” she say, gettin her head to movin.

  “Come on. I wanna give you some money for the retard.”

  “Don’t call him that,” she snap.

  “Okay, okay. I wanna give you a coupla bucks and talk to you bout him a lil’ bit.”

  She laugh, throwin her head back on her fat neck, then she look at me. “You talk like you think I’m the retarded one.”

  “You the one had a retard for a baby.”

  “Don’t start wif me, nigger,” she say. “Just give me the damn money right here.”

  “Cain’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just cain’t,” I tells her.

  “I gotta be back to school in an hour,” she say.

  “You be back. Don’t sweat it. I make sure you be back,” I say. “I’ll give you the money and you can tell me how Rexall doin and if you need sumpin and that be it.” I look up and down the street. I sees a girl checkin me out and I smiles at her.

  “What you smilin at?” Cleona ax.

  “You done said I ain’t nuffin to you,” I say.

  “C’mon, let’s go.”

  “Yo mama comin home?”

  “You know she ain’t gone be home till late,” she say.

  I love Cleona and I hate Cleona. There be two lil’ niggers in my head. Nigger A and Nigger B. Nigger A say, Be cool, bro, you know you ain’t gots no money, so just let this girl go on back to school and through maf class and English class and socle studies so she can get out and be sumpin. Just let her have a chance, one chance to be that nurse she always talkin bout bein. But Nigger B be laughin, say, Shit, take this bitch home to her house and hit it one times, two times. She got the nerve to be talkin to Jeep-nigger in front of you. Fuck that shit. If she gone dis you like that, nail her ass. Later you can go out and find that Jeep-muthafucka and fuck him up. Right now, take this pussy home and get a taste. You remember how good that shit was, the way she whimpered, like she be crying, like it hurt. Nigger be hurtin a pussy. Fuck school. She ain’t gone be no nurse. She ain’t gone be nuffin.

  When we walk to her house I see some guys playin ball. I ain’t played no ball in a long long time, I thinks to myself. At one time I was real good. I could dunk from the top of the key and all like that. I had me a nice jumper too, but shit, how you gone get into college and get all that big money when you ain’t nuffin to begin wif and when the muthafuckas make it so you cain’t stay in school. And I wasn’t bout to suck no coach’s dick for a chance to play. I shoulda gone over there when I was good and tried out for the Lakers. I woulda fit right in. Showtime. Me and Magic. I didn’t even need no practice, that how good I was.

  Cleona unlocks the door and we goes inside and she turn to me and say, “Now give me the money.”

  “Slow down, baby,” I say in my smooth voice. “Why don’t you show me where the baby sleep.”

  “You know where the baby sleep. The baby sleep
in my room and we ain’t goin in there. Now, give me the money.”

  “Well, could you get me some ice water?” I ax.

  She sigh real heavy and stomp them big feet off in the direction of the kitchen.

  I sits down on the sofa and I see that the thing be new. I run my hand along the cushion beside me and I’m thinkin, shit, where this mutha come from. Brand new.

  Cleona come back into the room with the glass of water and hand it to me and then just stand there.

  “You got a new couch,” I say.

  “So?”

  “Where you and yo mama get the money for this here?”

  “That ain’t none o’ yo business,” she say.

  “I think it is,” I say. “If my baby’s mama gone out sellin her ass fo money to buy furniture, that be my business. Maybe you don’t need no money.”

  “You s’posed to give me money every monf for Rexall.”

  “S’posed to ain’t the same as got to,” I say. I looks around the room. “Shit, y’all got a lot of nice shit.” I sips my water and it be warm. “I said ice, bitch.”

  She just stare at me.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I say. “That just come out all wrong. C’mon here and sit down beside me.”

  She still just lookin at me.

  “Sit down,” I say again.

  She plop her big ass down heavy next to me and I put my arm round her and she get all stiff.

  “C’mon, Cleona, loosen up some. Ain’t nobody home.” I touch one of them big titties with my finger and say, “That’s where my baby be havin dinner.”

  Cleona don’t want to but she let out a giggle.

  I touch her titties some more. “That’s a big ol’ tittie,” I say. “I wanna taste what my baby be drinkin. You want me to taste what my baby taste?”

  Her eyelids be flutterin closed now and I think she say yes and I pull her shirt and look at that big-ass bra she be wearin. I try to undo the muthafucka in the back, but shit, I cain’t get it loose and I say, “Hep me out, damnit.”

  Cleona reach her hands back, one from over her head and through her collar and the other up the back of her shirt and she open it up. Those giant jugs just flop there like big pillows, like bags of sand. I grabs on to them and sucks ‘em real hard till she moans and I whispers a lil’ sumpin, I don’t even know what the fuck I be sayin, but I squeeze and suck and squeeze and suck. The clock cross the room says one o’clock and I remember that I’m s’posed to meet Yellow and Tito over at the pool hall, so I gotta pop it quick. I push her back and undoes her pants, all the while I’m suckin on them titties and she’s moanin. It’s hard to get her pants over her big ass, but I do it and then I puts it in her, all of it. Wham! Just like that and she cry out and man I feel so powerful. I bang it, man, I bang it and she start cryin, openin her eyes and seein me and she be cryin, sayin for me to get off her. But I be hittin it now and I smile at her.

  “I said, get off me,” she say. “Get off me, you nuffin nigger.”

  That shit makes me mad and I pull out and shoot my juice all over that fuckin new couch. She don’t know what to do now. Her mouf just fall open like she stupid. Then she run cross the room and look back at me.

  “Mama gone kill me,” she say.

  “Shoulda thought of that shit before you started to fuckin on her new couch,” I say.

  “I hate you!” she shout. “I hate you! Get the fuck out my house!”

  I take my time pullin on my pants and doin up my belt. I look at her naked body. “You fat,” I say.

  “Get out!”

  “You cain’t tell me what to do, girl,” I say to her and get my shoes on.

  “You rape me, nigger,” she say.

  I laugh at her ass. “I ain’t raped shit. How I’m gone rape my baby’s mama? You gone always be my woman.”

  “I ain’t yo woman!”

  “You my baby’s mama,” I say.

  “Rexall ain’t yo baby,” she say.

  I just stare at her.

  “You hurd me,” she say. “Rexall ain’t none of yo baby.”

  “What the fuck you be talkin bout? If I ain’t the waterhead’s daddy, then who is?”

  “That don’t matter,” she say.

  “It matter when I be givin you money for that big-head retard.”

  “You ain’t never give me no money!” she scream. “You talk about it and that be all.”

  “I was gone to, but I ain’t givin you shit now,” I say.

  “Get the fuck out!”

  I laughs and walk over to the door real slow. “You a fat ho,” I say. “Rexall ain’t yo baby, but he sho look like you.”

  “He mine awright,” I say. I was at the door now. “I hit and I don’t miss. If I hits it, you be pregnant. It be like that.”

  “You rape me!” she scream.

  I laughs and walk out.

  Too

  From Cleona’s I goes over to the pool hall where I’se s’posed to hook up wif Yellow and Tito. Yellow is called Yellow cause he light-skindid and got that kind of red hair. Girls always be making a fuss over that nigger’s hair. But Yellow awright. He my partner, him and Tito. We calls Tito Tito cause he always want to Sing but he cain’t say. He just like that Jackson brother with the big hair. I see Tito standing outside smokin a square.

  “Hey, man,” I say.

  “What up?” Tito say.

  “Whatchew doin standin out here?” I ax.

  “Fatman say I gotta smoke out here. He say no mo’ smokin inside.”

  “What the fuck? What kinda pool room you got to smoke outside?”

  “His pool room. Sides, Fatman cool.”

  “Yeah, he cool,” I say.

  Tito throw his Kool down and step on it. Then we walk on inside. The room be dim like always and Fatman be sittin on his stool behind the counter. He nod to me and and I nod back.

  “Over here,” Yellow calls out from a far table. He be playin a game with a tall, slick-looking nigger in a hat. Another nigger be standin by watchin, filing his finger nails.

  “What up?” I say to Yellow.

  “Whippin this boy’s ass, that what,” Yellow say.

  “Ain’t over yet, youngblood,” the smooth nigger say just as calm as anything.

  “Look to be over to me,” Yellow laugh.

  “Wanna bet?” Smooth say.

  Yellow hesitates and I can tell he ain’t got no money.

  Smooth be pullin out some bills. “How about twenty?”

  “I don’t wanna bet, man.”

  “You sure you gone win, right? Or was that just a pussyfart?” Smooth look over at the nail-filin muthafucka. And they laugh.

  “Nigger call you a pussy,” Tito whisper to Yellow.

  “I ain’t gots no money,” Yellow whisper back.

  “You got his ass whooped for sho?” Tito ax.

  Yellow kinda nods his head.

  “I got ten,” Tito say and then he look at me.

  “Shit,” I say. “Fuck, Yellow, and you better for sho kick his ass.” I hand him my ten dollars and look at the table.

  “Okay,” Yellow say to Smooth.

  “Well, awright.”

  Yellow takes a shot and misses, but he say, “Don’t worry, he cain’t get to the six for shit.”

  I looks at the table and I see that the nine ball is smack in between the cue and the six and I think he right.

  “You ain’t gone make it, tight-ass nigger,” I say to Smooth.

  “You talk a lota shit for a lil’ boy,” he say.

  Tito say, “Ohhh, nigger called you a little boy.”

  “He just mad cause I got a piece o’ his mama,” I say.

  “I didn’t want none of yo mama. She so fuckin fat and ugly,” he say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  Then the smooth nigger just laugh and he make the cue ball jump over the nine and knock the six just as pretty as shit into the side pocket. Then he run the table and pick up the money. I look at Tito and I gets to thinkin bout my ten dollars and I get pi
ssed.

  “Youse a hustler,” I say.

  “And youse a hustlee,” he laugh. The nail-filer laugh too.

  “You ain’t taking that money, nigger,” I say.

  “Let him have it,” Yellow say.

  “Naw, man,” I say.

  “Listen to yo friend,” Smooth say.

  “I ain’t listenin to shit,” I say.

  “Then listen to this,” Smooth say and he pull a .380 out his pocket and stick the muthafucka in my face. “You want some of this?”

  I back away a step.

  “Just take the money, man,” Tito say.

  “There wasn’t never no doubt bout that, youngblood,” Smooth say and he and his partner just walk on out sweet as they want.

  Fatman call over to us with his gravelly voice. “Ya’ll okay over there?”

  “Yeah, we okay,” Yellow calls back.

  Tito blows out a sigh. “Shit, man.” Then he hits Yellow in the shoulder. “You cost me ten dollars.”

  I look at the door and then at Tito and Yellow. “I got to get me a gun.”

  “And whatchew gone do with a piece?” Tito ax.

  “First thing we gone do is rob that K’rean muthafucka over in the plaza.”

  “Why you wanna fuck wit him?” Tito say.

  “I don’t like the way the bitch be lookin at me when I be in there. Like he think I gone steal from his ass.”

  “You is gone steal from his ass,” Yellow say.

  Tito laugh.

  “So?” I say. “That ain’t give him no right.”

  Yellow say, “Nigger, you crazy.”

  “Gots to be crazy to survive,” I says.

  “You think you in some damn movie, nigger?” Tito say. He pull out a Snickers bar and start tearin the paper.

  “Crack me off some,” Yellow say.

  “See,” I say. “Y’all niggers act like you ten or eleben. Talkin bout candy and shit. We can get us some real money.”

  “And get shot fo’ the trouble,” Yellow say.

  “Pussy,” I calls him.

  “Yeah, and yo mama got her own zip code and area code,” Yellow say.

  “Well, your mama work as a roach terminator and don’t need no sprays or no shit, just her breath.”

  “Yo mama look like J. Edgar Hoover,” Yellow say.