Rico

Fiction

Silly ass Pattern was waitin’ for the fish man.

Rico watched him,  chewing the last of his cube steak. He picked up a packet of hot sauce off the folding table they found behind the gas station.

He ripped the packet of sauce and squeezed, squirting it in his mouth to go with the last morsels of meat.

No bones.

Rico hated bones, skeletons, Halloween. Hated anything that reminded him of his own mortality.

You hate a lot of shit, man, Rico admitted to himself.

Rico looked at his Obamaphone. It was mostly a clock and a Tetris game to him, but sometimes the lady from the WorkForce agency called, said they were way short, did he want to unload produce trucks?

“Bout to be shift change at the nursing home, Rico said.  I’m fit’na to go talk to some nurses.”

Melt smiled.

“You fit’na to go bug them to buy you a bottle. Best bring part of that bottle back here.”

“Bitch, I’ll do whatever I want if I get a bottle.”