Yeah, I live on Scarlet Street all right, near the corner of Agamemnon and Chintz. You know it? There is a pool hall on the corner, where there was a stabbing last year. 1732 to be exact, apartment 2C, in the back. I used to have a Plymouth Valiant but now I drive a Malibu. I just finished a box of crackers and a hunk of Swiss. I’m all out of dough. Cashed my pension over a week ago, paid some bills, and haven’t a dime to my name.
I’m dying for a Scotch and Water. My neighbor offered me a joint, nice guy, but I turned him down. I don’t smoke. Got to figure out how I’m going to eat from now to the end of the month. I figured on getting my landlady to invite me in for supper. At least, that was the plan, but I just found out she left town. People travel during the holidays. I hadn’t thought of that.
What are you going to do? Everyone is off on the next adventure of his unfortunate life. Pineapples don’t grow on trees. The ghost of Amy Winehouse. Say no more. She was going to Birmingham to sing songs, and look where she wound up. Gal had class. No one was strong enough to say to her, “stop.” All she wanted was a bottle of durian juice. The fruit stinks but its juice is sweet as a child’s kisses. Who thought it would make her sick?
We went to the park when I was a kid. My brother brought a BB-gun with him to kill hummingbirds. He said he needed a moving target. My mother said it broke her heart. That was the story of my childhood. We just broke each other’s hearts, repeatedly. My dad went into the den to listen to Judy Garland. We sat in the back room watching TV. Dad didn’t watch television. Maybe Ed Sullivan. He liked Chorus Line. He used to wiggle his butt and sing “Tits and Ass.” You know it?
We ate Lucky Charms and watched TV 24 hours a day. We didn’t sleep. All we wanted for Christmas was our two front teeth. I braced for another Valentine’s Day. My classmates would exchange cards but I was out of the loop. It was the 8th grade and I didn’t have anything to look forward to. The high point of the week would be the car accident on Chintz. Driver got thrown from the car. No seatbelt. Nobody knew him. The neighborhood kids laughed. Our neighbor’s Irish setter had run out and frightened the driver. He swerved and hit the stone street sign behind the hibiscus. My dad said they should put down that setter.
Our neighbor’s son went on to play for the Bills.
Image – Pixabay.com
literally stories 
Hi Dave,
I really did enjoy this.
It was a clever piece of writing.
His memories tied together and moved from one to another with the link being all from him. I am a bit like that as my thoughts never stay still and any link between one thing and another can be rather random.
What I really liked is every thread is a wee mini story that makes you want to consider what happened.
This is another cracking addition to your back catalogue.
All the very best my friend.
Hugh
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So nice of you to take time to write. Thanks. Glad it fits into your project. Love, as ever, the clever pic selected. More soon, I hope. DL
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I see this as the result of an LSD quilting bee. It also comes off like a latter Beatles’ song–I am the Walrus–that sort of thing. Single images flash in your mind and they shine together as something else.
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Thanks for the comment. Like the reference. DL
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I like strong narrative voices and this has it. Distinctive and gritty. Leave It to Beaver portrayed an idealized life, and Scarlet Street is all realism. Shot indeed.
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Thanks, David, for taking a look. Good to hear from you. DL
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Reblogged this on WRITINGS, MUSINGS, POETRY.
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And that’s what the Beaver has left us (in fair return for leaving things to him). What kind of lunatic land leaves the nation in his clumsy hands? A sweet kid but a fool. An easy mark for the depredations of the Haskells among us. And now see what’s come of all that guileless innocence: just the tenderness and pity of a clueless nostalgia.
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A great snapshot and I like how the narrator’s mind works. It’s amazing how many relevant details you manage to get into such a short story and yet it’s also very complete.
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Fun story, with an intriguing voice…combines absurdity and satire with nostalgia in an original way… especially the part about the park, the BB gun, and breaking each other’s hearts. I’m wondering, is it real, or is it Memorex?
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Love the question. It didn’t happen until I remembered it or something like that. I did have a neighbor whose son went off to play with the Bills. That’s about as much reality as I can handle.
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