Copyright © 2017 Austin Malcome, All Rights Reserved. Shakespir Edition, License Notes
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Like, the first time I saw her, I loved her. And not just me—she had that effect on everyone. To know her is to love her. Everybody wanted to meet her, or just even see her, just stare at her for one brilliant second, see? Because, I mean come on. She’s perfect.
I met her at work. My cousin Hector hooked me up with this job, yeah? He says it’s an easy gig. So I show up and wait for my ride, and this van pulls up. There’s maybe, like, ten hombres in this van, and they’re all wearing these coveralls, right? And breath masks, so I just know it’s gonna be a real shit job. And it is.
I gotta clean up pigeon shit. I hate pigeons.
Anyway, that’s when I met her, and she was so gorgeous, she made the work seem like it was worth it, like I should have to pay to clean up that pigeon shit, just for the privilege of being near her. I would have too, man. I totally would have. Anyway, we had two vans, right? Two teams of ten men each, and each man was assigned to a specific area. I was new, so they gave me her toes.
Dios mio, those toes. They were perfect. She really was a true piece of art, man. I mean, she was well built, and those toes were so smooth, I just wanted to hug them and tickle them all day, but like, this lady was a lady, comprende? She had class. Some of the fellas, they would make remarks, try to mack on her a little, you know? But they didn’t mean anything by it, and I think she knew it. There was just this feeling of elation that swept over a person in her presence. She made us giddy. But me, I could never be crass around her. Around her, I was polite like I was in church.
I spent the first day scrubbing pigeon shit out of the crevices between her beautiful toes. At the end, I was covered in crap, and freezing cold, but I wasn’t ready to quit. The bossman had to pull me away from her. She winked at me though. I know she did. I saw it. Just a little wink—the expression on her face never wavered—but I saw it. She liked me!
I knew she liked me.
I was flying on that ride home. We all were—ten stone-cold-sober, grown-ass men, giggling like school boys.
I barely slept. I was up and waiting for my ride an hour early. I waved at everyone I saw—people on the street, homeless dudes, the guy with the hot dog cart. They probably all thought I was loco.
The van pulled up, I got in.
There were only eight of us.
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This story is about like, freedom and love and stuff, y'know? In a modern America, is there room for two crazy kids who really care about each other? Written for every lover in Trump's America, in honor of Valentine's Day 2017. Viva la Mexico.