Brooklyn Bullsh*%t #2

A 'Brooklyn Zoo' Story

Just Anotha Day

A group of teenage girls pour out of the Utica A train station, faces greased with Vaseline; their hair tied up. One girl lags behind, nearly tripping, struggling to take out her earrings.

"Yo, yo... wait up!"

Another girl replies, "Hurry up Shaquana, I see 'em!"

The pack makes their way through Fulton Park, stepping onto Lewis Avenue. Head on a swivel, Shaquana looks around then up Lewis Avenue, spotting a large group of teenagers. She bends down, tightin' up her Timbs—her homegirls quickly surround her. Letting out a war cry, the large group rushes toward Shaquana and her crew; they attack. Fists and weaves fly as the rival cliques scrap along Lewis Avenue. Onlookers pull out their phones to record while others comment. "Dem girls need to stop all that fightin'!" Shrieks and screams swell the audience. Flashes of laced up Timbs flail, kick and stomp. Pillar in the community, Mama Carey calls 911 from the safety of home, her eyes peering through blind slits. "Oh lawd! Make these babies stop!" Men posted up at the corner sprint over to the brawl. One man pulls away from the rest. "Aye, aye, aye... nah, stop all that! Take that $&#% elsewhere!" A brolic teenager slinks from around the melee and swings, cracking the man above the eyebrow with a wave brush. His eyebrow split, blood. The two square up in the middle of the street. Friends of the teenager join the fight, ganging up on the man. Worming his way out from under the melee, the man gets his bearings. Winding his body like a cobra, he springs forward, landing a devastating right hook, knocking out one of the assailants. The crowd reacts. Reinforcements of teenagers circle the man, readied to pounce. Before the attack is launched, the man's homies arrive, standing between their boy and the adolescents. "That's a grown-man ya fightin'—fall back now!" Sirens and screeches of rubber torn up by asphalt paralyze the fighters like a deer in headlights. They stampede in all directions.

A New York Staple

Thirsty after three games of handball, Jayson sprints to a corner bodega. Whizzing through the isles of the packed store of people playing lotto and buying beer, Jayson stops at a refrigerated encasement of sports drinks where bodega cat boldly approaches, nestling up to him; rounding Jayson's leg until plopping on his beat Nike Dunks. "What's up mah G... how you livin'?" Jayson whispers as he grabs a Cool Blue Gatorade. Walking to the front with "bodega cat" tailing him, Jayson snatches up a bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos before approaching the counter. A woman in slides, a tank-top and sweats cuts in front of him. "Can I have two loosies?" she asks the man behind the plexiglass, cubed counter. "Sorry baby, my man outside waitin' for me—you young, you could wait." Another woman jumps the line, holding a cup of ice. "Gimme two packs of Backwoods." Frustrated but his turn, Jayson pays for his Gatorade, Doritos and dips.

Golden hour ushers in a time of beauty and solace, beckoning the mind to recalibrate. Warm light bathes any and all things like a child after a long day of play! Shift workers shuffle sore feet along unforgiven concrete to their respective homes, happy to be "off-the-clock". Vibrant hues of sunset cling to skin and clothing of girls jumping Double-Dutch on the sidewalk. Next door neighbors grill inside their front yard, listening to Maze and Frankie Beverly. Stoop conversations satisfy the soul and foster relationship. Old timer, Winston greets them all. A rolled-up newspaper beneath his armpit, and a concealed beer in hand tell his age. Alternating between a shuffle and a stroll, he makes his way to local watering-hole, Betty's Lounge.

Sackcloth and Something Else

A brilliant sunset bids its routine farewell behind the man-made horizon of rising skyscrapers. Shadows creep and crawl, emerging from every nook and crevasse, taking ghastly forms across the ground. Twilight quickly steps into the revolving door—the period between eternity and forever. Refusing to relent, the last of day dusts the limbs and apparel of people eager to get home after being stuck on public transportation. Ready to finally retire, Dusk takes their leave to the other end of the heavens. A large woman in an over-sized sackcloth tunic, wearing white nursing shoes exits a botanica carrying two black shopping bags. Stone-faced, she drags along like molasses, passing people in full stride. Light from a waxing gibbous moon casts eerie silhouettes upon her face, exposing dead eyes. Dogs out for their evening walk whimper and scurry behind their owners at the sight of the rotund pedestrian. Oblivious, the owners rebuke their dogs before apologizing. The woman's response? A gnarled grin before dragging along. Turning the corner of Schenectady and Bergen, the woman arrives at her residence, a dilapidated brownstone. She respites on a rickety chair stationed out front. A heavily soiled handkerchief soaks up sweat as it's pressed against the brow. Retrieving a piece of candy from her front pocket, the woman fiddles with the confection's wrapper; looking over the rim of her glasses at fraternal twins across from her waiting at a bus shelter. Simultaneously, the door to her residence creeks open, revealing an abyss. The woman calls out to the brother and sister, "Come in my loves... I have morsels for you... if you don't, I'll git ya and suck the marrow from your bones."