Erasure

by Percival Everett

  “What he look like?” I ax.

  “Yo mama,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “Fuck you,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” Yellow say.

  “You ain’t shit,” I say.

  “Well, you is shit,” Yellow say.

  “Nigger called you shit,” Tito laugh.

  “Pussy,” I say and I’m bout to hit him.

  “Where you gone get a gun?” Tito ax. “Wanna gun to get money. Need money to get a gun. Nigger in big bad circle.”

  I forget about Yellow and looks at Tito. “Oh, I’m gone get the money for my piece, awright,” I says. I walk over and pick up a pool stick and tap the table with it. What I’m doin be makin Yellow nervous. “What wrong chew, nigger?”

  “Ain’t nuffin’ wrong wid me,” he say. “You the one.”

  I walk over to him. “I thought you and me was homeboys,” I says. “Why you want be acting all pussy-like?”

  “We homeboys,” he say.

  I’m all up in his face now, lookin at him wif my head cocked and I can see him sweatin and lookin over at Tito like for help. “What you lookin at him fo?” I say.

  “Come on, Go,” he say. “We cool, right?”

  I smile and back away a step. “Yeah, we cool,” I say. “We cool and you gone do that job wif me.”

  “What?”

  “You,” I say. “You gone wif to hit that K’rean muthafucka. I’m gone get my gun. Smooth nigger comin up in here pullin his piece and shit.” I shakes my head, then I look at Yellow. “I thought you say you had the nigger beat.” Then I let out a smile that makes Yellow relax. “Don’t be worrin, Yellow. We cool.”

  Later on, me and Tito be leanin against the wall outside in the back alley smokin a joint.

  “Where you get this shit?” I ax him.

  “My brother scored it,” Tito say. “Good shit.” He look at me and hand me the J. “Lemme ax you sumpin. Why you fuckin wit Yellow like that?”

  “Fuck, I didn’t mean nuffin by it.”

  “You shook him up,” Tito said.

  “Then his ass ought to be shook up,” I says. “Sometimes he act just like a punk. You think he a punk?”

  “Naw man, he ain’t no punk.”

  I takes a long drag off the joint and hand it back. Coupla guys pass by the alley on the street and I watches them. “How much you think a gun gone cost me?” I ax.

  “Hell, I don’t know. What chew want?”

  “I wants me a nine, man,” I say.

  “I dunno, a hundred, maybe. I dunno,” he say.

  “Your brother get me a gun?” I ax.

  Tito shrug his shoulders.

  “Ax him.”

  “I’ll ax him,” he say.

  “I wanna know how much it cost.”

  “I’ll ax him,” he say again.

  When I be walkin home I stops and looks at this fine red Mustang convertible in the parkin lot of a Ralph’s grocery stow. It be sharp and then I see this real fine sister come out and bleep bleep undo the alarm on the muthafucka and I thinks, Damn that bitch be fine as shit. She fumblin wid her keys, tryin to get in and so steps around so I can see her face and all that make up she be wearing. Then she see me and snap up like some kinda snake and she be holdin a can of pepper spray and pointin it at me. I jumps back.

  “Chill out, baby doll,” I say.

  “I’m not your baby doll,” she say.

  “You ain’t gots to be all uppity just cause a nigger wanna look you over,” I says.

  “You’ve seen enough. Now, kindly move along,” she say.

  I looks at this bitch. “Kindly move along?” I say. “Girl, where you from. College or some damn place? You ain’t no better n’ me.”

  “Fine,” she say and got her car door open. “Now, just back off.”

  I back away some more. “Okay,” I says.

  I watch her drive off in her fine ride and think, “Fuck you, bitch.”

  I’m so mad I could scream. The whole world screamin. So, why not me.

  Free

  Mama just be gettin home when I walks in. She and Baby Girl been out grocery shoppin. I’m lookin in the bag what be on the table and she tell me to get out of there.

  “I’m hongry,” I say.

  “Boy, I ain’t got no time to be foolin wif you right now. I got to make dinner for you two and then go over to my sister’s house.”

  “Why you goin over there?” I ax.

  “That no good man o’ hers been beatin on her again,” she say.

  “She ought to shoot him in the ass,” I say.

  “Boy, don’t be using no language up in here,” she tell me.

  I laugh.

  “I be serious, Van,” she say. “And I don’t want you hangin round wif that Tito none either. Boy be bad news.” She shake her head that way that make me mad right away.

  “Tito cool,” I say.

  “Tito stink,” Baby Girl say.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I say.

  Mama slam the cabinet where she be standin and stare at me with fire in her eyes. “What did you say?” she ax. “I know I didn’t hear you right. Don’t make me have to whip yo ass.”

  “Yeah, well. You can shut the fuck up too,” I say and I stare right at her eyes. Cause I hate my mama and I love my mama. I’m starin right in her eyes and she can see I a man now. “You heard me, old lady,” I say. “You heard what the fuck I said. And don’t be thinkin you can tell me what to do.”

  “Lawd, have mercy,” she say. She hot and I can tell she wanna grab a pan and knock me in the head. But she just shake her head there for a while. “I cain’t believe it,” she say.

  “Believe it, bitch.” I loves my mama. I hates my mama.

  “Van,” Baby Girl complain.

  “I’m gone be in the other room,” I says. “Call when they some shit to eat.” And I walk on into the living room. From there I can hear Mama cryin and Baby Girl tryin to comfort her some.

  I turns on the television and lean back into the sofa and I think that it be one uncomfortable muthafucka. I want me a couch like that one Cleona and her mama got. Fuck Cleona, no good ho. Think she something, fuckin round wif that ol’ rich nigger. Got her though, stuck her one and creamed on that couch. Fuck wif me.

  I watches some cartoons and then I flip through the channels and I find the Power Rangers and watch that shit for a while. Then I finds the Snookie Cane Show, that fat bitch be talkin a mile a minute. Got all them losers on there and I think, shit, I could be on there too. They shoot the fucka over there in Burbank and they pay them bastards to be on. I know they be payin ‘em. And them people in the audience, always got sumpin to say, always giving advice.

  Mama call me into the kitchen and I go on in there and sit down at the table. I look at my plate and I say, “What this shit?”

  “Hamburger Helper,” Baby Girl say. “And I helped.”

  “Well, you ought to help throw this shit in the toilet,” I say.

  “That’s it, you little smart-ass, smellin-yo-own-piss, little nigger,” Mama say and she pick up a big ass knife.

  Baby Girl run to her, screaming, “Please! Please, don’t cut on Van, Mama! Please, don’t be cuttin on him!”

  “Let her cut me,” I say. “I got sumpin for her big ass.”

  “Move out the way, Tardreece!” Mama say.

  “No, Mama! No, Mama!” Baby Girl be screamin.

  “I’m outta here,” I say, knockin over a chair. “Eat all this s
hit and get big as a house and see if I give a fuck.” I slams the door as I leave.

  I be standin outside in the night. A police chopper go by and shine some lights in some backyards and I think, shine that light on me muthafucka. Shine me some fuckin light so I can see where the fuck I be at. Then I thinks about my mama. I hate her. I loves her. And what bout my daddy, wherever the fuck he be. He might be in jail or running a string o’ hoes. Shit, I dunno. But I hate him wherever the fuck he be. I walk on down the street and I start to pretend I’m that Forrest Gump muthafucka. I ain’t seen the movie, but I seen all them TV ads and I feel like I seen the movie, the way he be running for that touchdown straight through everybody and the way he be sitting on that bench talkin bout them chocolates. I thinks, hey, I’m a chocolate. I be a chocolate in a box o’ chocolates. “Here I be, America!” I scream up at the chopper whats leavin. “Open me up! Never know whatcha gone get!” I hates my daddy.

  I’m crossin the street over by the playground and I see that Jeep-nigger sittin at the light. I walks over and stand right in front of his headlights. The nigger look at me like what the fuck be goin on, then he recognize me and he smile. I smile back at him and don’t move. He rev his engine a coupla times.

  “What you want, muthafucka?” he ax.

  “I want chew, nigger,” I say.

  “What, you wanna suck my log, muthafucka?” He look over at the nigger sitting beside him and they both laugh.

  “Yeah, whip it out so I can see it,” I say.

  “Get out the way, bitch,” he say.

  “Step out,” I say.

  “I ain’t got time to be fuckin wid you,” he say and rev his engine again.

  I don’t move. “I said I wanna bite me off a piece o’ yo ass.”

  He try to drive around me and I stay in front of him. “Move, nigger!”

  “Move me, muthafucka.”

  Another car come up behind the Jeep and blow his horn. Then Jeep-nigger blow his horn. The car behind him whips out and speeds by. Then he gets and out and his friend do too.

  “What the fuck yo problem, nigger?” Jeep ax.

  I walks up to him and stand all up in his face. “You my fuckin problem.”

  He look over at his friend who be walkin round the back of the Jeep. The fellas what been playin ball on the playground come over to the fence and watch. Then I hit him in the stomach, quick and make him double up. His friend come runnin now and I kick that muthafucka in the nuts and he fall down on his knees and I leave him there cause he ain’t nuffin’ to me. I goes back to Jeep and I punch his face so hard he fall on his knees too. Bam! Bam! I hit twice mo’ and his nose just blow up. Red be all over his face. I look at them pretty eyes now and bam bam, I bruise ‘em up. Niggers over on the court be shoutin out sumpin’ I cain’t hear. I walk round that nigger now. He stretch out on the ground, gettin the street all bloody.

  “How you like it, muthafucka,” I say. “You won’t be sniffin’ round my shit no mo’ now, will you? You gone leave Cleona alone?”

  He don’t say nuffin’.

  So I kicks him in the side and he spit blood. “I ax you a question, nigger. You gone leave the bitch alone?”

  He say something through all the blood in his mouth, but I don’t know what. Then I hear the police chopper blades and I run.

  I go home and I get in bed wif my clothes on and my knuckles be sore as shit. I look up at the peeling paint on the ceilin and think about my babies. I hate my babies. I loves my babies. I hates my babies. I loves my babies. I hates …

  I dreams when I’m sleepin and it be on an island somewhere in them islands down there. There be all these beautiful, fine-ass bitches walkin round wearin nuffin but strings over they nipples and shit. I think, damn, these some fine bitches here and I know they gone give me some and I start countin the babies I’m gone make and I start thinkin up names for them babies. Their names gone be Avaricia, Baniqua, Clitoria, Dashone, Equisha, Fantasy, Galinique, Hobitcha, I’youme, Jamika, Klauss, Latishanique, Mystery, Niggerina, Oprah, Pastischa, Quiquisha, R’nee’nee, Suckina, Titfunny, Uniqua, Vaselino, Wuzziness, Yolandinique and Zookie. I gone hit that many of them bitches, I think. I’m just sittin in one of them beach chairs watchin ‘em go by. Big butts on all of ‘em. But then in the dream I looks down and I see that my dick ain’t nuffin but a bump. I yell, “Shit, my dick ain’t nuffin but a bump.” What I’m gone do with a little bump fo a dick? Then them bitches see it and they starts pointing at my bump and I’m there tryin to cover myself. One of them bitches say, “That nigger got a real lil’ dick, look like a baby dick.” And she and all the rest of them bitches starts laughin at me, pointin and laughin, and I go runnin off into the water. My hands coverin up my bump, what used to be my dick. And in the cold water, this ho come swimmin over to me and she reach between my legs and move my hand and she say, “I don’t care if you ain’t got no dick.” I look at her face and it start to melt and she get real ugly and she become my mama, so I stab her. I stab her over and over and over and over until the ocean be fulla blood.

  Then I wakes up in a sweat.

  Next mornin at breakfast, Mama done forgot bout our fight and she singin some damn gospel song. Baby Girl be hummin along and then she say, “Mama, what that song you singin?”

  “It’s What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” she say. Then she look at me. “I heard bout a job you might want.” She put some bacon on my plate. “Over in West Hollywood.”

  “Doin what?” I ax.

  “This and that. I dunno,” she say. “I think drivin a car for a man.”

  I think about drivin a car and I kinda like the idea of drivin. “A driver for some white man.”

  “It a job,” she say.

  “Well, I gots a job,” I say.

  “You never go to it,” she say.

  I eat the bacon. “What’s the address?” I ax.

  She walk over to the counter then and dig round on it. “I wrote it down. Here it is.” She come back and hand it to me.

  I shoves the paper in my pocket.

  “So, you gone go over there?” she ax.

  “Dunno yet,” I say. “And don’t be ridin me.”

  “I ain’t ridin you,” she say.

  “You is too,” I say.

  “I is not,” she say.

  “Is too.”

  “Is not, you good-for-nuffin,” she say.

  “That be me,” I say and laugh. “Just like my daddy.”

  “Hush up, boy.”

  “Who is my daddy, Mama?” I ax.

  She turn her back and wash some damn dish in the sink.

  “What his name, Mama? You know his name? I know Baby Girl’s daddy’s name. I seen him. He in jail now, right?”

  “Hush up, nigger,” Mama say.

  “Is my daddy in jail?” I ax. “Did you ever know his name?”

  “Van,” Baby Girl complain.

  “I’m gone,” I say and walk on out.

  Fo

  I goes over to the warehouse and old Freddie be sittin out on the dock smokin and he just start shakin his head when he see me comin. He look back into the buildin and then at me.

  “What?” I ax.

  “Don’t even bother,” he say.

  “Don’t even bother what?” I ax.

  “Don’t bother takin you ass on in there,” he say. “Reynolds say about an hour ago, ‘Where that good fo’ nuffin Jenkins?’ Then he say, ‘If you see ‘em, tell ‘em he can slap his ol’ lazy feet down the road.’ That’s what he say.”

  “What? I be fired?”

  “You quicker than they gives you credit fo’,” he say.

  “Cracka cain’t be firin me,” I say.

  “Cracka done did it,” Freddie say.

  “I’m gone talk to him,” I say and start into the buildin.

  “Suit yo’self,” he say.

  “Just cause I be late,” I say.

  Freddie laugh loud. “Three fuckin days late, nigger.”

  I go on into the buildin and that fuckin ra
dio be playin that country-ass shit. Reynolds be standin over by a forklift talkin to that great big nigger who always be kissin his ass. Reynolds always be callin him. “Big Jim, come here. Big Jim, do that. Big Jim, suck my dick.” Reynolds look up and see me comin.

  “Freddie say you done fired me,” I say.

  “Freddie told you right,” he say.

  “But why?”

  “Because I ain’t seen you in three days, that’s fucking why,” he say.

  “I been busy,” I say.

  “Well, you ain’t busy no more,” he say. “Not around here anyway.”

  I looks at him and I really want to hit him but that big nigger climb off that forklift and stands beside him. I look at Big Jim and say, “What you got to do with this, House Nigger?”

  Big Jim make like he want to hit me, but Reynolds stop him. “Don’t hurt the boy now, Big Jim.” Then he say to me, “Now, you take your skinny ass away from here before I let Big Jim have his way with you.”

  I looks at Big Jim’s giant hands all balled up into fists like that and I don’t say nuffin else. I just turns and walks away from the sorry muthafuckas.

  So, I makes my way over to the address what Mama done give me, to that man’s house, the one who have the job. I figger I can work fo’ a coupla days, get some money so I can buy my gun, then score real big. Maybe go down to Mexico and get some of that senorita pussy.

  The house be on a hill and got one of them circlin driveways. I mean, man, it be huge and there is a coupla fancy cars parked in front. One of them is this fine red BMW convertible with a white roof. It’s like it ain’t got a speck of dust on the fucker. The license plate say COOL. I walk on up to the front door but before I can find the bell to ring it, the door opens and there’s this brother in a pink shirt and khakis.

  “May I help you,” he say.

  “Yeah, I’m lookin fo’ Mr. Dalton,” I say.

  “I’m Mr. Dalton,” he say.

  I’m kinda shocked, you know. I been expectin this muthafucka to be white and here he is darker than me. I don’t know what to say.

  “What can I do for you son?” he ax.

  “I’m here about a job,” I says.

  Then this kinda fat woman come up behind him. She black too, but she dressed like a maid in them movies. “You be Sadie Jenkins’ boy?” she ax.