chloeolane

I'm sitting here waiting for my clothes to get done drying when I notice a small boy with a six year old blonde mullet sneaking behind the back of the video games. He studies the power strip lying on the ground and yanks on the thick black wires, trying to figure out how to turn the games back on.

Part of me wants to say something for fear that his father, folding clothes on the other side of the room, might pawn his parental obligations off on me for not stopping the ensuing catastrophe. But, on the other hand, curious kids rule, and Id hate to be the person who killed this ones adventurous spirit.

Just then, the kid pushes the button on the power strip and breathes life into the machine in front of him. The game in question is Area 51, a first person shooter. Feeling an immense kinship with the kid for having similar tastes in gaming, I decide to give him a couple quarters so he can reek havoc on the alien invasion. The father watches me with a hard stare as I do this. Rightfully suspicious, I suppose. There are an awful lot of creeps out there. No doubt at least a few of them sit around laundry rooms waiting for enthusiastic young gamers to watch them sniff their underwear in exchange for quarters. It is a sick world.

Anyhow, I give the kid the quarters and he plays the game without incident. I go back to my purple upturned bench and continue reading. A page goes by and I catch the father still staring at me. He slaps a smile quickly over his glare to hid his suspicion. A moment later he approaches me and insists on paying me back whatever money I gave to his son. He introduces himself and offers me a handshake, but he denies me of a proper grip and only wraps his hand around my fingers, which he squeezes ruthlessly. The handshake lasts an extended amount of time. This time I spend looking at his face and his smile. His smile surprises me. Its not your typical Nigga, step to this smile. No, this is different. This is the smile you give to someone who just clumsily hit on your girlfriend. Its a smile as if to say, No one molests my son but me.