A Novel by Kawika A. StaffordChapter 4“That’s awful,” Nikko replied, as she spoke consolingly to her husband. Sonny Ray looked away from his wife, trying to focus on something, anything in a feeble attempt to get his snap back. “Yeah it was tough, Sonny Ray said finally, the doctor said it would be a couple of minutes but it was more like fifteen minutes.”Sonny Ray paused, with a look that told you his mind was a million miles away.As the couple sat quietly, a mournful smile transformed Sonny Ray’s face. “The old man was tough, right to the last.” Nikko knew it was important that her husband to get it all out. She held his hand as grief came barging in unannounced, and without mercy. “I told him he didn’t have to fight anymore, that we would take care of everything, all his wishes would be honored.”Tears began to well up in the eyes of the normally cool, calm, and collect Nikko.“Right before he died, a single tear rolled down his cheek. The doctor said he was brain dead, that he couldn’t hear us.I don’t believe that though, he heard me, I know he did.”Sonny Ray emotionally imploded, and sank low into his chair. Nikko started to speak but checked herself, and instead rubbed his shoulders and neck. They both began to cry.
Sonny Ray no longer had a father.
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“Hello? Sonny Ray is that you?
Are you awake?” A voice asked softly.
“Uh yeah, who is this?” Sonny Ray asked, definitely not awake. “This is your brother Whisper.” “Oh hey Whisp, what’s up, everything alright?”
Sonny Ray sat up slowly in bed, trying his best not to wake his wife. “Well I was hoping you could pick me up at my place, and maybe we could get some breakfast, and catch up. You know.” Whisper asked shyly, thinking he would be blown off. Sonny Ray glanced at the clock radio on the nightstand. “Sure Whisper, give me a half hour.
Are you still at the same spot?” Whisper said he was. After hanging up Sonny Ray attempted to swing slowly out of bed, hoping to avoid the barrage of questions that were sure to come.
He was halfway to the bathroom when the first mortar round landed.
“Who was that baby?” Nikko asked, half asleep. “That was my brother Whisper,” Sonny Ray said in a low voice, hoping to escape. Nikko sat up slowly, “Sonny Ray I know he is not trying to hit you up for money first thing in the morning.”
Sonny Ray looked at his wife. “We’re having a long lost brother moment, and breakfast, I don’t know. When I get back we are going shopping bub.”
Sonny Ray had just deployed the classic diversionary shopping tactic, as he made a hasty retreat to the shower. After a quick rinse off he kissed his wife, and headed out.
“Why does someone have to die, before we break bread with our feelings?” Nikko thought, as she watched her husband close the door.
It had been two or three years since the two brothers had seen or heard from each other. The last thing Sonny Ray heard, his brother was a bouncer, and his girlfriend a dancer at the same club. Although Whisper had fathered a daughter it hadn’t slowed or altered his lifestyle much. Whisper had spent the last ten years in and out of jail.
He appeared to be a man hell bent on getting himself killed, for he had a polarity like attraction with violence.
If Sonny Ray was the dark horse of his family, then Whisper was most certainly the black sheep. Whisper was an extremely fragile person inside, and like many people he masked his pain with violence, in an attempt to secure the desired outcome of any given situation.
Whisper covered his fears with a mean disposition, and a really nice left hook. Sonny Ray pulled into the parking lot of his younger brother’s dilapidated apartment complex.
The two brothers would talk now.
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Cyrus awoke to a chilly morning in the mountains of northern Arizona. He had slept in the hogan of his young friend Dwayne. Cyrus had served with Dwayne’s father, Russell Notah in the military. They had met at Schofield barracks, on the island of O’ahu in the early nineteen forties. Russell discovered something new from day one when got to boot camp.
In the military you don’t have a first name.
Over time Russell just became Notah.
Russell was recruited to be a Navajo Code Talker.
Cyrus was an Army Ranger. As Cyrus had such a long hawaiian name that was too difficult for most to pronounce, they called him Mana. The two men had become inseparable during the war, and beyond.
Over the years Cyrus would travel from Hawaii to Arizona, staying for a month at a time with Russell on the Navajo Nation in Kayenta, Arizona.
Russell himself had traveled to many countries before returning to his homeland.
Russell would visit Cyrus who lived in remote Waipi’o Valley, on the big island. Russell, who enjoyed farming would stay with Cyrus planting various fruit trees and vegetables, as well as helping Cyrus tend to his kālo patch.
It was a quiet morning in the mountains. A raven could be heard calling in the distance. Cyrus sat up on one elbow, remaining on his side. He had many fond memories of his old friend Russell. They had many conversations that often went late into the night.
The fire had burned down, with white ash, and a few embers of orange coals remaining in the bottom of the wood burning stove.
Cyrus placed a few pine needles on the white ash, blowing gently. A flame jumped up and consumed the needles. He then placed small pine sticks on top of the tiny fire. They began to crackle in the quiet of early morning.
The flames flickered gently upward, offering light and comfort to the old man.
As the warmth spread inside the hogan, the cool crisp air retreated back into the mountains. Cyrus began his day making coffee and having a pilot cracker and some butter. At some point he knew he would receive an expected guest. Dwayne had yet to wake up, for he had been up half the night talking to Sonny Ray.
The black eagle circled the hogan four times and landed on a ponderosa pine nearby.
The great black eagle perched quietly, waiting patiently for the old man to appear. It stared down intently at the hogan, it’s eyes fixed, pupils adjusting like the zoom lens of a camera. Its eyes filtered through the trees and smoke, searching for any movement. The door of the hogan creaked open slowly as the old man, wrapped in a blanket stepped outside, and began a search of his own.
The black eagle now cried out; its piercing black eyes detecting movement. Cyrus squinted his eyes and began to scan the tree tops. A smile slowly came over his face, as he observed the large predator staring down at him. “Good morning old friend, I trust your journey was a safe one. Come on down, so you can eat.”
The black eagle issued a quiet chirping reply, and leapt from it’s lofty perch. Cyrus held his gloved hand up, offering the predator a place to land. The black eagle landed firmly. It sat staring intently at the old man. Cyrus placed a small strip of raw elk meat on his gloved hand. The black eagle immediately clamped down on the raw meat, and began to eat ravenously. The black eagle looked up at the old man for a moment, and then continued to consume the elk meat.
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In 1962, Sonny Ray’s father rushed him to the emergency room on Lockborne Air Force Base in Ohio.
“Nurse, nurse, we are going to need more help in here, now,” the doctor in charge barked. “Can you believe this,” another nurse asked. “Let’s go people,” the doctor said urgently. The little boy, only two years old, was resisting two grown men. Every time they thought they had him secured he would wriggle free. The head nurse had located two more interns to assist with the little boy.
The boy continued to struggle. The pitiful screams of the little boy could be heard in the entire ward of the burn unit. The boy had been rushed to the hospital by his father. The little boy had second degree burns on both of his feet, well past his ankles.
The two year old had been burned in scalding hot water. His skin had curled up; and as his older brother Walter would describe the carnage years later; Sonny Ray’s feet looked like the color of red jell-o, smeared in vaseline, and in blood.
The doctor had attempted to calm the little boy, but the pain was beyond description, and the boy did not have the ears to hear anything spoken to him this day. The doctor’s unpleasant task would now be to remove all the dead and dying skin to prevent infection from setting in. The doctor had already administered two injections in order to ease the boy’s pain, but to no avail as the boy continued to struggle.
Sonny Ray was sweating profusely, his screams growing ever louder. The doctor choked back his own emotions as he continued his pain staking task of peeling off the remaining dying skin; piece by piece with a large pair of Air Force issued tweezers.
The handsome boy with the wavy brown hair cried out again. “Nooooooo!! No! No! No!” Sonny Ray chanted, his little checks flush with anguish. No tears could come as the searing heat of excruciating pain soared through his body. “Should I give him another injection?” The gristled head nurse was on the verge of tears as she continued to assist the doctor with his gruesome task. “Not yet, one more now could kill him,” the doctor said without looking up.
Finally the intern asked. “So what happened to him doctor ?” The doctor paused looking over the top of his glasses. “His mother said she was bathing him and forgot to turn on the cold water.” The head nurse understood the inflection of the doctor’s voice, and what he implied, although not speaking on it directly.
But they all knew.
“This boy is a fighter,” the head nurse said quietly as she handed the doctor a fresh sterilized pair of tweezers. The doctor glanced again over his glasses.
“That he is, but I have to wonder; what’s going on inside that two year old mind.” The two interns held Sonny Ray fast, as he began to feel the effects of the third shot that the head nurse had just administered.
The little boy’s eyes began rolling in the back of his head.
The easy part was over.
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A Novel by Kawika A. StaffordChapter 8Michelle finished cleaning her father’s apartment. She lit a cigarette and sat down on an old green milk crate. She exhaled with a sigh and sat smoking quietly in the now empty apartment. She thought about how pointless having things really is. You work hard, you acquire things, most of it you don’t need; then one day your gone. Poof. Like you never were here.The killing thing, is your relatives fight and or squabble over your material things, trash the rest, mop the floor, lights out, end of story.“The whole damn world needs a do over dad.” Michelle stood up slowly and looked around one last time. “Well dad that’s as clean as is it’s going to get. Love you.”
Her older brother Walter had donated her dad’s smoke laden couch, and chair. He threw away most of dad’s junky stuff. She, Walter, and Whisper had divided dad’s salvageable items. With all of dad’s stockpile of food, and household items they could have opened a small corner grocery store. Sonny Ray curiously was only interested in a couple of items. He had told his everyone he didn’t want to haul anything back to Vegas but Michelle knew better. Sonny Ray had always prided himself on not being indebted to many, particularly to his mom and dad.Michelle could not believe how much food her dad had stuffed in this two bedroom tuna can. Michelle hesitated to leave.
She remembered she had a cold drink in the refrigerator. After opening her drink she sat and smoked another cigarette. She knew the reasons why her dad hoarded food; all of Billy’s children knew. Her dad was born in 1928. Growing up during the Great Depression, Billy’s family was dirt poor.When Billy was drinking, and reminiscing he would sometimes talk about his older brother Jimmy. As the story went, Jimmy had burned his finger with a blank cartridge, and it later developed into tetanus. Michelle had no idea what a blank cartridge was but she figured it had to do with a weapon of some sort. Her father’s family had been so poor that they could not even afford a tetanus shot.As a result, her dad’s big brother got lockjaw, and bit off half of his own tongue. Jimmy had lay upon the couch for fifteen days, as his family watched in anguish; the little twelve year old boy, as he slowly and painfully died. Michelle recalled her father pulling out an old yellow discolored envelope, and an even older newspaper clipping, reported on in the Erie newspaper.When they were kids they had to sit at the table and listen as their dad read that newspaper clipping, primarily so they knew their old man wasn’t telling them some bullshit story; but also to inculcate the importance of working hard, and providing for your family.Michelle dropped her cigarette into her half full drink. She gathered her things and looked around one last time.
“Well there you go dad.”
Her countenance fell as she turned off the light switch.
After closing and locking the door she headed down the darkened sidewalk to the apartment manager to turn in the keys to her dad’s apartment.
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Dwayne turned off the light in his office. He had been on the computer checking his mail, and he decided to fix something to eat and watch the local news. He sat in his favorite chair, eating a sandwich. Dwayne was not presently in a relationship, but there was a young lady he was interested in.
He had only been back in Antelope Springs for about two and a half years. Dwayne had attended ASU down in Tempe.
He had grown up around horses and cattle, so cowboying was in his blood. Dwayne chose to go into the field of animal husbandry. After receiving his bachelor’s degree from ASU, he returned home. He had applied for a job with the Navajo Nation after returning to Antelope Springs, but currently they were fully staffed. However, Dwayne received an offer a couple of months later after the unexpected retirement of a long time employee.
Dwayne had a goal to breed horses, and eventually create a small program that would give those Dine’ children interested in horses, an opportunity to learn horsemanship, which would include caring for the horses; and farrier work as well. Dwayne was eager to see Cyrus.
At the same time, he was saddened to learn that Cyrus was not well. He had sat in shock when Cyrus had told him that he had perhaps only a few months left to live. Cyrus dropped an even larger bombshell when he told him about his son, Sonny Ray.
It was shocking because Cyrus was single as far back as Dwayne could remember.
It was a lot to digest in such a short span of time. Cyrus had a few girlfriends in the past, but nothing that resulted in children. Well, as far as Dwayne knew; which was presently not much obviously. The fact that he had kept his son a secret all these years, was a feat in of itself.
Cyrus had told him he would explain everything when he arrived from the big island. Dwayne figured this was going to get interesting. He would also get to meet this Sonny Ray as well.
The hundred year old ponderosa pines towered all around his home. Dwayne searched the tops of the highest trees. He wondered if the black eagle was out there, watching him. In the past whenever Cyrus was coming to visit, the black eagle would always arrive a day or two after Cyrus.
Dwayne found the black eagle unsettling at times.
For example, when it looked at you, you knew it, you felt it. It was as if the black eagle had observed his entire life, knowing more of him than he would like it to.
Yet Dwayne did not suffer an inordinate fear of the black eagle.
Cyrus had explained to Dwayne about the things that had been revealed to him; primarily as the result of decades of observation. The sun faded behind the distant horizon, as a chill began to replace the fading warmth of day in the mountains of northern Arizona. Dwayne gave up his search, knowing it would probably be another two or three days before he would see the life long companion of Cyrus. He decided to watch a movie.
Dwayne placed a couple of pieces of wood into the fireplace before settling in.
The black eagle sat perched in stillness on a large ponderosa pine, looking down at Dwayne.
The fire was emanating radiantly, creating a fiery northern lights dance on the ceiling of his home.
The wind began to blow gently through the trees.
The night hid it’s secrets but the light lay them bare.
Always to be seen;
by the
Black Eagle Dream.
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Sonny Ray and his family met Walter for breakfast the following morning. All heads turned as the family entered the restaurant. Walter sat in a booth drinking coffee.
Nikko didn’t particularly like eating in restaurants.
A couple of years back she had watched Dateline.
This episode featured short order cooks, and fast food workers spitting in customer’s food or urinating in coffee pots for one ridiculous reason or another. Since the show aired she had no reasonable expectation to believe that people had abandoned such abhorrent and disgusting behavior. Sonny Ray had similar concerns, but he had to eat.
“Okay ladies, what would you two like?”
Sonny Ray smiled at his wife with a knowing glance.
She returned fire with stoic resolve, and a wincing smile. Sonny Ray ordered coffee. “Whisper and Michelle are going to meet us at the funeral home,” Walter announced. Sonny Ray looked intently at his brother. “That’s fine. Nikko and Raye are going to do a little shopping, and then stop by to visit her step dad while we are at the funeral home.”
Nikko knew how Sonny Ray felt about little Raye viewing a dead person, particularly a relative.
That family gem of a story was introduced when Sonny Ray was five, and living on Parker Ranch on the big island.
In 1965, Sonny Ray’s grandmother had died from cancer.
Sonny Ray recalled the day of his grandmothers wake.
His relatives had held it in the living room of the small ranch house on Parker Ranch. Dozens of friends and family stopped by to pay their respects.
Years later, Sonny Ray was told by his aunty Aloha, that even his gangster uncle, Charlie Stevens had flew over from O’ahu to pay his respects, and attend the funeral.
On the final day of the wake before closing the casket, Sonny Ray vividly recalled his ignorantly insistent mother who at the time had demanded that he kiss his grandmother goodbye. Wanda had picked up her little boy, holding him by the belt at the small of his back with one hand, and pushing his head down with the other, forcing him into lowering his smallish face into the abyss of the casket.
She continued to hold him by the belt as he clung desperately to the sides of the casket. He recalled crying out in confusion and fear as he strained upward, trying to escape from his oddly still, and unmoving grandmother. Sonny Ray fought as long as he could, but his mother won out. Sonny Ray remembered the chalky like makeup on her face, and how it tasted and smelled on his lips.
Sonny Ray had nightmares of his grandma for years afterward. He was traumatized by that event; so much so that when he got older, he promised himself that no young child of his would ever have to face or endure such family madness. Well that moment had arrived, and little Raye would not remember her grandpa in this way. They sat in the little country restaurant eating with quiet restraint.
Sonny Ray sat comically tense, resisting the urge to use his fork to peek under his over medium eggs for a big wad of spit.
Nikko on the other hand was her cool calm, and collect self. Walter was immersed in taking care of all the details of his father’s final requests. After breakfast Sonny Ray walked his wife and daughter to their car. He hugged and kissed his family. After going to the funeral home to say their goodbyes they would meet back at Ventana Canyon later in the day.
Sonny Ray and Stewart waved as the two ladies drove away.
Nikko wanted to go to the Tucson Mall, and get her some pizza for lunch, and then find little Raye a dress for the funeral, and some shoes of course.
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In 1964, Sonny Ray’s mom found a pair of panties on the floor of the backseat of his dad’s 1960 chevy impala.
The next thing he knew, him, his mom, and two brothers and his baby sister were getting off a plane in Kona, on the big island of Hawaii.
Sonny Ray recalled the wind being warm and light, as they sat in the bed of their uncle Hugh’s pickup.
It was a long lazy ride to Parker Ranch as they traveled upland to Waimea.
The distinctive pace of Hawaii was felt immediately upon his arrival. For Sonny Ray, this was the best day of his life.
It was a day like no other as far as he was concerned.
Before moving into the ranch house next door, Sonny Ray and Whisper had slept in the room of his grandparents ranch house, the same room where their mother had been born.
So because his dad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, that is how it came to be that little Sonny Ray was introduced to his aboriginal homeland at the age of four.
Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream
Whisper and his father had been at odds for many years. Whisper had cried at the hospital when his father died, but for the most part Whisper hated his father.
Most of it stemmed from his dad’s inadequacies as a man. As Billy was a very weak and insecure man, his behavior often lended itself to varied inconsistencies. As a man who remained lost in a sea of alcohol; to Whisper it was like being in a row boat with a gorilla, and only one oar.
As such, discipline was generally dispensed when Billy was intoxicated.
His father would often tell Whisper that he was the bad penny that always turned up.
As a kid he had no idea what that meant.
However, Whisper understood what his father meant when he told him he was stupid, and was never going to amount to anything.
Over the years Whisper began to believe that, and acted accordingly. But he suffered for that belief as he devolved into an emotionally crippled boy; trapped in a man’s body.
Like all of Billy’s children, he too was the poster child for low self esteem.
It was a few years prior to Sonny Ray moving up to Las Vegas, that Whisper had begun his downward spiral.
It was on a Christmas Day, when Sonny Ray received a frantic call from Whisper’s sobbing girlfriend, Gabriella. She had begged Sonny Ray for help. It was a cold rainy overcast day in Tucson. His brother had put a pistol to his temple, and was working up the courage to end the year in dramatic fashion. Whisper had been up all night, drinking beer, whiskey, and snorting cocaine.
‘A lovely combination this fine Christmas morning,’ Sonny Ray thought as he drove to his brother’s apartment alone. Nikko had protested, but he went anyway. After a short fifteen minute drive; he turned into Whisper’s apartment complex.
Sonny Ray parked, and walked to his brothers apartment. After knocking, Gabriella opened the door and let him in. She was understandably upset. Sonny Ray instructed Gabriella to take his niece into the bedroom. Sonny Ray walked with Gabriella to the bedroom door. She was upset and didn’t want to go in the bedroom.
Sonny Ray whispered to her to take off the screen from the bedroom window, and if she heard any commotion she was to put her daughter out of the window and then climb out and run for help.
Gabriella was fearful for Sonny Ray, but after urging her several times she finally closed the bedroom door and waited. Sonny Ray turned his attention toward his younger brother, who sat on the couch in a drunken stupor.
Without a word he picked up the .357 magnum, and unloaded it. Putting the shells in his pocket he placed the pistol on the coffee table, and sat down next to Whisper. On the coffee table were half filled syringes of blood. Small puddles of fresh blood covered the table. Strewn about were cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and a half eaten carne asada burrito.
Whisper had been drawing blood from his arms. He had a nice sized welt on his forehead from smashing beer cans. There was a bottle of Jack, and remnants of cocaine on a small vanity mirror.
Dried blood streaked down the inside of his forearms.
He had large purple welts on his inner arms where he had been sticking himself. Sonny Ray had sat there for some time without speaking. His quiet demeanor had arrested Whisper’s attention.
Whisper occasionally looked up at his brother through glossy, and bloodshot eyes. “What in the hell are you doing?” Sonny Ray finally asked.
“I don’t want to deal with this shit anymore Sonny.”
Sonny Ray was respected by his younger brother, and often times he would listen. But as they had gotten older, that respect had waned, and new borders were set. Undeterred, Sonny Ray offered to take his brother to get some help. They ended up talking for several hours.
Sonny Ray cleaned up the blood, and gathered up all the trash. After returning from dumping the trash, he encouraged Gabriella and the baby to come out of the bedroom. They retreated to a large chair. Gabriella was terrified, and sat quietly as Sonny Ray interacted with his brother a couple of more hours.
Whisper began to slowly sober up. He later apologized to his family, and promised to get help. After leaving Sonny Ray headed down the rainy slick roads of Tucson. Sonny Ray knew Whisper wasn’t ready to make a change in his life.
That was years ago, and Whisper was still doing Whisper. Of course he rode solo these days. Gabriella, and their daughter Johnnie D, disappeared shortly after the attempted suicide on Christmas day.
Whisper never saw his daughter again.
The two brothers sat quietly with a sense of dread as they waited for their two siblings. Walter was a little pissed at Whisper for not being as helpful as he could have.
Sonny Ray couldn’t be bothered with that aspect of his younger brother. That was who his brother was. You could count on not counting on him. But hell, at least he was consistent.
The four siblings finally met up to face death together. Walter held the door as the foursome filed in quietly. After speaking to the funeral director they were lead to a small room to view their father. Billy lay in an inexpensive coffin, per his request. The four approached their father in painful reverence. After only a few minutes though, the commentary began.
“Man, I cannot believe we forgot dad’s dentures,” Walter said, as he stood next to his father’s casket. They all nodded, staring at their father’s down turned mouth like they were judges in an undertaker competition.
“Well, it’s not like he needs them;” Whisper offered, getting his penny’s worth in.
The other three siblings all turned and looked at their coked out brother. Michelle just stared at her dad saying nothing. Whisper on the other hand was a little more touchy-feely, as he began to place his hand on his father’s chest, and finally his face.
“Dad feels hard as rock,” Whisper observed in childlike wonder.
“Uh, that’s because he’s dead bro,” Sonny Ray said, unable to resist.
“I know that smart ass, it just feels weird Sonny Ray, okay?” Sonny Ray checked himself, not wanting to wind up the volatile Whisper. “Sorry bruh, you walked into that one,” Sonny Ray said, with the hint of a repressed smile. “Whatever asshole,” Whisper shot back.
“Okay you two, enough already,” Walter interjected. Sonny Ray smiled but said nothing. Their old man would have laughed at Sonny Ray. Billy after all was where they had gotten their sense of humor.
Michelle suddenly broke down, and sort of cried. “You okay Michelle?” Walter asked. She nodded in the affirmative and said, “I don’t like the way they did dad’s hair.”
They all finally turned their attention to their father and his hair. After a moment they all began to nod in unison.
“Yeah, your right Dad always combed to the side not straight back,” Walter offered. They all fell quiet; looking into their dead father’s face.
His unmoving face resembled a map, a map that once lead into their lives; and now that map, that face, was leading them out, to who knows where.
They were on their own now, really on their own.
They lingered for a time, and said their goodbyes.
Tomorrow, they would lay their father to rest.
Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved #blackeagledream
“No, I don’t usted habla espanol shitass,” Whisper growled. “Now get somewhere.” The man stood glaring back at Whisper, as he stood next to his bicycle near where Whisper had parked his camaro.
“Hablas ingles?” “No,no,no,no,” the man replied quickly. “If I had a check for a million dollars with your fucking name on it, I’m thinking your english would be pretty good right about now my friend.”
Whisper had a wicked hangover, and was in no mood for the little dude who he had seen in the neighborhood for the last couple of years. Whisper could barely talk, his throat hoarse. He knew he needed to quit all of it, partying every night, whoring, the drugs. Whisper was relentless in his attempts of daily destruction.
Alcohol was his drug of choice, but cocaine was his baby.
Whisper just wanted to get something to eat, and then get his ass home, and get out of this hot Arizona heat. The man mockingly held two bags of oranges in the direction of Whisper. “Dude, I done told you, I don’t want your sour ass oranges, entiendes?” Whisper waved his arms, encouraging the man to leave.
The man placed his bags of oranges in his side baskets, and rode away on his rickety bike. When he found himself at a safe enough distance he yelled over his shoulder,
“Your momma likes my oranges gringo,” the man yelled.
Whisper had to smile. He watched the man ride away as he opened the door of his camaro. Not too long ago, Whisper would have run that guy down, and stomped a mud hole in his ass.
“Getting mellow in your old age, did that little prick call me a gringo?”
Whisper muttered to himself. He had spent the evening partying with two of his stripper girlfriends.
He was a bouncer, and entrepreneur of all things illegal.
Whisper had dubbed himself a broker for the broken.
Whisper was a damn drug dealer.
He had branched out into gun sales as of late, cash only, no background checks. Whisper had once told Sonny Ray that he was diversifying his portfolio. Whisper had been a professional painter at one time. Residential Houses, lots of commercial buildings.
A severe back injury off the job prevented him from painting. It involved a homeless woman and a shopping cart. Dealing drugs wasn’t as physically taxing, and Whisper enjoyed the rush and risk of it all. Not to mention he enjoyed the residuals of his craft.
He had a butt load of cash, jewelry, clothes, and more ass than he knew what to do with.
Walter was his oldest brother. Whisper and Walter really didn’t get along, never had. Even as kids they argued constantly. However, despite their personal differences the one constant of growing up in Arizona was that they were consistently asked by white people if they were Mexican.
Sonny Ray and Whisper both had curly wavy hair, but Sonny Ray was about four shades darker than everyone in his family.
The neighborhood kids would often tell on their parents by revealing what they would say in private. Their neighbor Irene revealed that her dad once told her, “We like Walter, and Whisper, but that Sonny Ray is as dark as a nigger.”
Whisper pulled out onto Speedway Blvd. He headed west, bound for Barrio Hollywood. Whisper had a craving for some of Pat’s spicy chili dogs, and some curly fries with lots of ketchup, and a large sun tea.
Although he had tried hard to curtail his temper Whisper had a propensity for violence. He had used drugs and alcohol daily for years. Cocaine, and alcohol seemed to be his catalyst; which would often propel him into acts of violence, for one reason or another.
In the 70’s, bonfire parties in the desert on Friday night was the thing most teenagers did, especially during football season. Whisper was no exception. One Friday night after the Santa Rita football game, Whisper was on the east side of Houghton road partying with his friends from high school. In the 70’s the desert in Arizona was vast, and wide open.
Whisper left the desert party about 3am. He headed back in town to get something to eat. Whisper sat in traffic, a few cars back from the red light. A couple of dancers he had recently met at the strip club pulled up alongside him and sat next to him in their convertible, talking back and forth.
Of course being inebriated, Whisper hadn’t been paying attention to his spacing, and he ended up tapping the bumper of the car directly in front of him.
This big guy, who was with a woman, presumably his girlfriend, jumped out of his car. He began yelling and cursing at Whisper as he approached his vehicle. Whisper, as was mentioned earlier, was half in the bag.
However, his only thought was to get to Jack in the crack before he perished from hunger. At this time of the morning all he had on his mind was a double order of two greasy tacos and a large Coke. Whisper smirked at the guy with muscles, and quietly told him to get back in his car before he said something he was going to regret. The big guy persisted, and made the grievous error of wagging his finger in the face of the now silent Whisper.
The big man had misinterpreted his quiet demeanor.
Whisper slowly opened his car door, his eyes fixed intensely on his antagonist, as he exited his vehicle. After locking eyes with Whisper for the first time it left the big man unsettled. He decided that retreating back to his vehicle was in his best interests. Although Whisper was only six foot, and two hundred and fifteen pounds; it was his menacing eyes that kept people from getting overly familiar. Whisper now approached the obnoxious muscle head.
In so many words Whisper informed him that he had let his alligator mouth overload his hummingbird ass.
Faster than you could say: whisperwillbeatyourass.com
Whisper shot an arm to the guy’s crotch, grabbed the man’s shoulder with his free arm, and slammed the big man down hard on the hot Arizona asphalt.
Without a word Whisper turned back to his car, as the concussed man lay quietly on the pavement. He decided to be nice and dragged sleeping beauty onto the adjacent sidewalk.
All Whisper wanted to do now was to get the hell out of there before the cops showed up. He reached for his car handle when he felt a sharp pain across his lower back. He turned to face his attacker, and lo and behold, it was a woman perhaps five foot four.
Whisper had no misconceptions about what a woman was capable of.
She was defending her man. Whisper was cool with that. Nevertheless, the fact remained she should have not put hands on Whisper. She had smacked him good with that short piece of chain.
Truth was, it hurt like hell.
Whisper advanced on the woman. He side stepped her as she swung the chain overhead. He crotch shot her as well, and delivered her unceremoniously hard on her back.
She lay still, chain in hand. She was unconscious, lying on the road not too far from her semi-conscious, and moaning boyfriend. After dragging her next to Mr. Universe, Whisper got the hell out of there.
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Black Eagle Dream 