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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

“Where The Weed At” from the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant, now free use code KC63J

I was stressed out so I decided to seek out the only thing that calmed me down. Yes, I was going to find some good weed right here at this Christian school. One day, I was playing basketball at the small gym when I befriended this young man. He was quite large, about three hundred pounds and six feet three. He had sandy blond hair that hung down just above his eyes; a haircut shaped like someone had put a bowl on his head and cut the edges of his hair. His cheeks were permanently red, and his blue eyes were expressionless, like there was nothing but air and broken dreams behind them. Frankly he looked like an overweight Huckleberry Finn. He told me he knew where to get the good stuff. I almost laughed when he emphasized good stuff, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

One afternoon, we walked down the street looking for a place to smoke. The little town was quite beautiful. The houses lined the streets, the grass was brown from the winter cold and there

were Christmas decorations on their porches. Their yards were covered with leaves of bright red, orange and brown. Quite frankly it was kind of peaceful.

We arrived at a small bridge where trains went by which was something I had never seen before. We got under the bridge; there were two other young men with us. The fat guy pulled something out of his pocket, and I remember thinking, I had never seen a white tooth pick before. To my dismay he flicked his lighter and lit up the smallest bloody joint I had ever seen. He passed it to me, and before I could take my usual long draw, the other kid had his hand out. When we were done, the big kid stumbled out from under the bridge. He was jumping around like Sugar Ray Leonard shadow boxing. To tell you the truth, he was surprising light on his feet.   He was going to tell the world how high he was. I slowed down, letting him go ahead of me. Huck’s antics were going to get us caught. That day I decided to stop smoking. I could tell that this place was going to be a buzz killer.

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Categories
Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Coal Miner’s Daughter (From the novel “I am a Dirty Immigrant”)

Jenny had dark brown hair brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile quite frankly, she had an island personality so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then said, “Look what you went and done.” We were inseparable from that day, she always found a way to make …me laugh, she was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy, no one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia and her best friend, who now hates me, I guess because I am so bloody good looking, was also there. We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond Kentucky. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game, I played the game and after I saw her for about ten minutes then went to my dorm. Yes my friend I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me.