PART 4

Posted: December 8, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

Blanca was heading down atlantic blvd and chavez. Her right arm was twitching very sporadically. But she could feel her insides turning. She was a bit regretful that she hadn’t quit eating that mc donald’s food. She could feel it churning inside her and she could feel her brain begin to mushify. She felt the insides of her turning into one big pile of special sauce lettuce cheese. She began to regret everytime she had eaten a mickey deez apple pie. On automatic as she was twitching down atlantic blvd head towards chavez. She remembered everytime she had ever taken a bite of an apple pie. Backwards she recalled the last one she had eaten last week. And all the subsequent months all the way back to the first memory of McKrappers. She watched herself laughing with friends ditching school and heading to mcKuleros to have a bite. Chomp. She watched herself after soccer practice having a extra large diet coke and fries and apple pie. Now recalling how awful she would usually feel after the fact. The nausea, the brain dead crash. All the parts of her dying. Now. She could feel her right side go numb for a while. Then begin to irradically twitch again. All the while. She is remembering all the dreams she had been having for months now. About the concrete river being overflowed and east l.a. overflowing with water.

 

5 puntos was the highest location she could think of that was near by. She was trying to find someone out on the street corner that could recognize her. That might not already have turned. And that in turn. Would not recognize that she was turning. She had been organizing her classmates around catastrophic emergencies such as the one she felt was now occurring. One day in sixth period she blurted out to class” Hey folks. A lot of you don’t know me. But ever since that thing happened in Katrina I have been doing a lot of thinking around the fact that if anything like that ever happened here we need to be prepared. You saw how long it took for bush and the government to respond to the people out there. And the reality is folks, if that’s what happened to the black folks of this country. What do you think its gonna be like for us? I mean you have laws that have passed like 287g and sb1070, hb56 and other type stuff that shows. They don’t care about us. You got detention centers where they are taking our folks , you know mexicanos, centro Americanos, indigenas, sometimes even chicanos that are born here just because they don’t have an id. and I know things are a little different here in east l.a. but really. I highly doubt that one day. If something like that. You know. Lets say a big earthquake. A tsunami were to hit us. here. I kinda don’t think the national guard or anybody else is gonna come to rescue us. the last time any type of attention was given to us by them. Was when we had the Rodney king riots back in 1992. And the only reason the national guard was down here was to make sure we didn’t tear up rodeo drive. Really. Because they didn’t come and stop us from looting. Or anything like that.. really. All I’m saying is that if we expect them to help us instead of us helping ourselves. We’re in big trouble. ” a couple of students actually paid her some attention. But the majority of folks simply laughed the whole thing off. Imagining that she was probably smoking too much maryjane. And that her paranoia would subside by the time the bell rang to go home. She managed over the next couple of months to organize a couple of teens. Despite the fact that she was herself beginnignn to have sleepless nights. Chronic insomnia due to the crazy dreams she was having. Waters drowing everyone she knew. Blanca in some dreams watching all of east l.a. be underwater except for the barrios high enough to not get washed away like 5 puntos. She was four miles away from this place. and with the insuing chaos. She couldn’t imagine that she might actually end up making it to there. Especially with all the twitching in her body. The numbness. She felt she was losing fast. Why did she have that pinche supersize last Sunday.she thought. Why didn’t she see this coming.

 

She recalled when she was eight years old and her mother had taken her to mc donals for her birthdate. And she remembered the faint smell of greased up French fries that she could feel now consuming her brain. Her right temple began to tremble and grow numb . irradically these feeling would alternate. She was remembering being four years old with her cousin kiki fighting over the mckrappy meal toy and then spilling all the food they were also fighting over on the mckrappy linoleum. And in all her snot filled face that had managed to rip the toy from her cousin kiki’s hands. She began to eat off the floor . all the bits of cold stale fries. They had been fighting for half an hour in the restaurant and both their parents were so busy chomping on their own mukkrud meals that they hadn’t paid attention to their wailing children. Blanca remembered all the way back to a time when she was not even off the chee chee. When her mother was fitting her mashed bits of mukscukky fries and soft bits of whatever the hell is in those apple pies. She traveled even further than that as she twitced more and more in her body. She could feel herself. Inside her mothers womb. Hearing the muffled gurgles of her mother sipping on a super sized diet high fructoce corn syrup. She recalled her knee jerk reaction of being inside her mothers body. Knowing that this insatiable substance was entering . and try all she could. Blanca not being named blanca yet was about to be drowned not only in rivers of high fructose corn syrup, but a wad of mckrap sludge. She recalled the first time. These substances took over her whole material world. Her body. Drowned. And she could even then recall the numbing sensation that took over her yet under developed brain, body and soul. She was remembering all of this. All the while trying to get back to the new alternative high school on Gage and Chavez. She had been organizing for weeks out of that high school. And had told her fellow classmates. If shit when down that would be the first meeting point. Not realizing. Or imagining that when all of this would happen that she would find herself. On the other side of town at her tio memo’s house watching him turn into a mickey deez French fry zombie. And even worse. Not imagining that she would slowly be turning into the same mckrappy garbage.

They were watching the whole thing on t.v. Blanca and her uncle. Watching Univision en Spanglish. As the aguila reported back to the people that masses and masses of people were wandering the streets heading to their favorite French fry location. Thousands upon thousands of people in east l.a. were breaking into mcdonalds. And eating the so called French fries. The scattered look in their eyes. Being that Blanca’s cousin worked at Univision Blanca had some of the inside twitter scoop. Blanca’s cousin Rufina thought that this was her shot at becoming the new star reporter for Univision, so she hit the streets armed with her Tia Chucha’s paint ball gun. She went out to interview as many of the French fry zombies as she could because she had noticed that they were really harmless when it came down to it. all they wanted was some pinche French fries from mckrappers. Rufina figured that the best way to get to be the new top reporter was to interview as many zombies in their different states of zombifriedness. She also figured she needed to give them an original name that would become the tag line that everyone picked up.

 

All the while the franchise was trying to capitalize on the frenzy. Opening up make shift mobile fry fry trucks. Since by now the franchise had become so huge that they had money backing up every corner of east los and beyond. But they had stationed mukkrappy trucks everywhere. They were armored trucks from the banks that they had taken over. They had been ready for this day for years. They had city drump trucks filled with piles and piles of French fries. Lining up. Ready to dump all over the city. The prison complex was at this point one of the safest places in east l.a. since very few of the inmates were being affected by this particular epidemic. The prisoners were experiencing a different set of circumstances. As they watched some prison gaurds begin to cry in front of them. On the other side of the cell. Apologizing to them. For all the times they had wronged them

 

 

‘I’m so. Sorry. For all the times I have mistreated you. I don’t know how it is that I help put you here”

 

 

Well you can help by taking me out of here.

 

No I can’t do that either.

 

 

Come on ese. All you have to do open up this pinche cell!

 

Just sobbing and sobbing. All these different prison guards sobbing over their own crimes. So unable to stop sobbing. That they wrapped their minds inside of their own mental prisons. Some wardens began to beat themselves with their batons. While others began to handcuffthemselves to prison inmates cell bars.

“I’m sorry. I’m like you now. Now I can listen to you”

“nah man! You can give me the motherfucken keys dawg! that’s what you can do!”

“no I’m sorry I can’t.. I have to change this. I have to change all of this relationship we don’t have” as officer Juarez said this. He tossed the keys of his handcuffs and the cell doors to the first floor

Of the jail. Where it was out of the reach. Of anyone insight. Other gaurds were doing the same.

‘I have to talk to you. I’m here to listen now. I’m here with you. I’m sorry”

“You aint sorry motherfucka!! You just threw the damn keys out! Pendejo. Now we’re both locked up”

“no you see. Now that we are here together. We can change things”

Roberto began to grab the prison guard that was locked up to his cell door. And began to slam him against the bar doors. The limb body of the non resisting guard, slamming his face. His nose. His cheeks. Along the bar doors. With blood seeping through his nose and mouth. He gurgled. While spitting out two teeth.”Its okay… you know. Its okay. We don’t have to fight anymore. We are free. Just stop.

“motherfucka!! I’mma rip your mothafucken arm off. So you can go get that damn key and get me the fuck outta here man. I know whats happening out there. And I ain’t going down like that. I ain’t gonna be stuck in here.

The majority of the prisoners were not responding the way Roberto had responded. Most began to have tremendous compassion for their new inmates. As the gaurds began to cry. Some read them from the bible. Some sang them songs. Some read them spoken word pieces. Others just sat there. Listened to them. The way no one had ever listened to them. Here these men and women. Were feeling regret. Pain. Hurt. For all the years of oppression they had enforced on others. And they began to remember instances where they had been enforced. By church. State. Home. And other institutions. So it was no surprise. As these internal memories. Became more vivid. They became aware of all that they had inflicted. They watched these men crumble in front o fmen they had turned into caged animals. And in all the heart. These other men displayed for these men. Just watching men listen to each other. Acknowledge each other. All these men collapse inside their manhood. Their humility. Their pride and ego finally failing them. These men. Loved these men. And these men. Also loved those men. All the men. Learned and listened. Put their hands to rest. Put their fist to rest. And watched the men. Become the parts of the men. Parts of them women . that needed to become women. Again. They watched all of this together. Their chests collapsed. Tambien. They felt themselves. Lean into each other. Despite the borders. Despite themselves. These men becoming men. Some of these men had been incarcerated since they were 18. Some of these men had become guards not too much longer after they were 18. They learned. The same. Taught the same. Ached the same. But neither could acknowledge it. be this until now. The way men. Can finally see men . be men.

 

 

Rogelio had been shot down many years back. Before it was even hip to be a chicano. He was a youngster talking about war way before the Chicano memoratorium. He had been hung by police officers back in the 50’s near lorena and first st. his body was on display for other barrio misfits to see what could happen to them if they didn’t follow procedure. At the height of this incident they shot his already hung body. The mexicanos of that neighborhood tried to protest to no avail. As bracero hatred still lingered in the barrio there was no way of creating criminal cases of officers. In those days. It was still like the old west. So this 19 year old body lay hung there. On a street lamp post. Until some other officers finally came and took the body down and laid him to rest in the evergreen cemetery. But now.in the middle of screeching cars. And sirens and shots firing. Rogelio’s bones began to crawl out of the cemetery. His rotted yellowing and browing skeleton surrounded by a raw white light. The sincerity of his eyes glowing with a soft blue light. His eyes held a sadness and protective state of being. As he began to crawl out of the cemetery. Looking for other vatos. He realized as he crawled out. That he no longer was whom he last remembered being. He stared at his hands. His bones. He stared at his empty rib cage. The dawning light that encompassed him. His panic dropped him to his boney knees. He let out an immense wail shriek, with the prowress of a cuicatl. And the towering fear of a mouse inside a mouse trap. All at once the spiraling wail shredded some of the earth that surrounded him. The confusion of his spirits new form. Startled him. He cried what felt like the nineteen years of his previous life that had been stuck. As his tombstone had been left unmarked by the police offices who buried Rogelio.

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