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the boy in the black suit

by:Keke Jewelry     2020-04-09
The boy in a black suit Chapter 1 everything is background. This is the first day of school.
In fact, it was 19 days I went to school, but it was my first day, all I could think of was how happy I was that I had missed three weeks, it will be my last day in this place. Thank God.
Don\'t get me wrong. I don\'t hate school.
I\'m just not in the mood to drag the book around, or to learn something that doesn\'t matter to me, or even worse, to be with people I don\'t matter. I know, I know—
I sound like the main candidate for black nails and emo poetry, but I think what I really want to say is that I just don\'t feel very social. Scratch that—
I don\'t like social at all.
The locker slammed, the sneakers screamed, and on the way to class, every teenager laughed and yelled in the hallway --
It\'s like a big nail on a bigger blackboard.
When I was floating in the lobby like some kind of zombie, everyone was squeezing around and hitting me.
Like I live in a different world, everything is very backward. Ms.
Principal Harris, who usually dodged students in the office most of the time, offered to take me to my locker.
In the meantime, it\'s cool for me to be with the kids
At least I think I\'m cool.
Like James Skinner completely ignored me.
Do you understand what I mean? Backward.
The last time I saw James was in the summer when our whole class had to meet at school to take pictures of our senior year.
James and I joked about how much we hated taking pictures, and our crazy moms were fascinated by the whole thing.
I told him how my mom begged me to laugh, but I knew I wouldn\'t laugh. I couldn\'t.
It\'s not because I don\'t want to, it\'s just that I don\'t know what to do with my face every time the camera points to me.
Some people can smile when prompted.
You say \"smile\", they have one ear and every tooth in their mouth is flashing.
And some people. . . can\'t.
I am one of them.
So, I know that in my senior year photo, I will be like in my junior, sophomore and freshman photos --like a robot.
Worse than this one, it will be a robot face with a hat and a dress.
The point is, I just saw my so-
Friend James-
I just joked with him about this old-fashioned junk.
Now he\'s acting like he doesn\'t even know me.
I think this happens when people find out that your mom just died.
You become invisible. At least I did. To everybody.
Almost everyone.
\"Hey Matt, man, I\'m sorry about your mom.
\"My best friend Chris Hayes slipped behind me while I was trying to cram myself into my locker.
He\'s a Super Cool, crazy fly, and the girls are crazy about him shaving his head.
He may be voted \"Best Dress\", or a stupid man like this, who will have a fair chance in front of the King of the ball if he wishes.
Most of all, he has been trying to sympathize with me and he is very normal and really sad now.
I appreciate it even though it is not doing well.
But at least he has enough heart to come up to me and say something, not just to avoid me, like death is a disease that anyone can catch just by talking to me.
Others either stare at me or work too hard to see me at all. \"Y\'know . . . Mrs.
Miller was like a second mom to me, and I\'m so sorry I wasn\'t able to attend the funeral, \"continued Chris.
I\'m sorry you couldn\'t come either.
I\'m sorry I had to sit in church.
By the way, there is a broken air conditioner.
Sweating, watching all the people walk down the aisle, looking at my mother\'s coffin, whispering to herself how much she looked like herself, even though she didn\'t.
I\'m sorry you didn\'t hear the lame chorus there, one song after another.
I\'m sorry that you didn\'t see my dad there trying to stay optimistic, made some bad jokes in his speech and choked by his words.
I\'m sorry you didn\'t look there and I completely lost it, with tears.
I\'m sorry you\'re not by my side but it doesn\'t matter because you can\'t feel my feelings even if you are. Nobody can.
Even the pastor said so.
That\'s what I\'m trying to say, but I don\'t because Chris shouldn\'t get it all.
I know he will go if he can.
But just can\'t do it. I get that.
So I turned and looked at him and said, \"man, everything is fine.
\"I swallowed a mouthful hard, held out my hand and held back my tears. Do. not. cry. Not in school.
Chris grabbed my hand and pulled me to a man\'s sidehug.
At that moment, the perfect high
At school, Sean Bowman followed Chris, slapped his ass, and casually made a stupid joke about us being gay or something.
Of course, after Sean said that, the girl who was with him --
Hit him on the arm and suck her teeth.
She pulled Sean close and whispered in his ear that I could tell him that my mom had just died because his face turned blue --black to—
It\'s blue.
But if he turns red, he will be a sign to stop walking.
Chris turned and glared at Sean.
I can see he\'s angry.
\"Bastard,\" yelled Chris.
Sean just walked away awkwardly and it was a good idea from Chris\'s tone.
It\'s like a sudden high school. . . high school.
A group of immature and irresponsible teenagers who feel invincible just because they have never experienced anything.
Those who do not act like others.
Like Shante Jenson.
She was pregnant when we were a sophomore. time.
The baby brought her up and something in high school suddenly became less important.
She just wants to do her job and go home.
There is no extra stupid time.
That\'s what I think.
Like all of a sudden, I\'m too old for high school even though I really don\'t.
Such a strange feeling
Fortunately, I don\'t have to stay in school for too long.
Because I did very well in my freshman, sophomore and junior years, my schedule is very short and I can leave at noon every day.
Sure, I\'m a little behind, but Lady.
Harris made all the teachers.
Give me homework so I can catch up with the work I missed.
I\'m not too worried, though.
It\'s always easy for me to go to school.
It must be much easier than a smile.
The original plan was to start school at the age of eight forty-four.
5 to noon, then work in the bank, from 1 to 5 to 30, as part of the job --study program.
I\'m not too happy with working in a bank, just because sitting behind that thick glass all day and counting someone else\'s money seems boring.
However, I\'m definitely excited about the salary.
But because I missed the first few weeks of school, I also missed the first few weeks of school, and the bank arranged another student for me.
So I have no work and nothing to do after class.
I talked to my father when I got the news that my position was abandoned and he told me not to worry, but I should definitely try to find some work, especially because I have so much time on hand.
By the time he said that, my mother had not died.
Now that she has it, I really want to get a job, not only to keep busy, but also to help him with his bills.
Although I think I am smart, I do not have any work experience, at least I do not have any work experience in books. Sweeping Ms.
Jones\'s steps are not counted.
So I did what anyone in my position would do.
I try to get a job in a quick placefood joint. Cluck Bucket.
The dirtiest place in the Hood
But they are known for paying fairly good fees.
At least faster than most others --food spots.
Everyone said it was because it was owned by some rich people who felt that he could at least give people enough wages to survive because he actually killed the entire hood with food.
How can something so good taste be so bad for you?
I ate there many times.
My mom will send me out to get the chicken basket on Friday night.
We cook from Monday to Thursday and rest on weekends. Yes, we cooked.
As I grew up, I was almost my mom\'s sous chef and it was just a fancy way to say I was her kitchen assistant.
Slice a little, cut a little.
Some stirring, some spraying.
What I want to say is that I am a little mean to pots and pans.
That\'s another reason why Cluck Bucket seems to be an easy choice for me.
I like the food here. I like the food here.
Cookies, especially.
My mom always says it reminds her of real country cookies.
I \'ve never had Country Cookies before, but the ones in clbucket are awesome.
In fact, everything in Cluck Bucket is good all the way to sweet tea.
\"Can I help the next person in line?
\"The girl behind the cash register said as much enthusiasm as I am now about anything --none.
She had a net on her head that made her hair look more like some kind of helmet with a gold necklace hanging around her neck with a nameplate on it.
RENEE wrote it in cursive.
I walked up and when something got stuck, my sneakers made a strange sound you heard.
\"Welcome to Cluck Bucket, would you like to try the combo, special, Cluck Deluxe, milkshake or delicious food in our dessert list?
She turned her eyes and walked away.
\"Are you all hiring people?
A little quiet, I asked.
I don\'t care if anyone knows I\'m trying to find a job, but at the same time, I don\'t want everyone in my business to be involved.
Renee took a look at me and measured the size for me.
\"Wait,\" she said angrily.
She turned around and yelled at the back, but it looked like she was yelling at the chicken stacked on the big metal bed inside. \"Clara. We hiring?
\"Another woman showed up from behind the metal tray.
Her shirt is white, not purple like Renee.
She also had that hair on her head, but her hair was pigtails and looked like a snake caught by the net.
\"Are you looking for a job?
Clara said roughly. \"Yes.
She reached under the cashier and took out a piece of paper. An application.
\"Fill in this over there.
She pointed to the table near the door.
\"Bring it back here when you\'re done.
Clara then took a pen at the counter and glared at me.
\"Don\'t steal my pen.
\"I sat down and started filling out the application, trying to stop the old smell of the old grease and the voices of all the people who went in and out, shouting and joking, the children skipping school, the construction workers during the lunch break, drug addicts are begging for cookies, almost anyone you can imagine.
Whenever someone opens the door, the bell on the door keeps ringing and the car horn and siren are coming from the outside.
There\'s noise in every damn place.
\"Mom, what\'s good?
A young man of my age said to Renee.
\"The thing on your head looks good,\" he joked . \".
His children laughed.
I wanted to see her reaction, but I couldn\'t because he was standing in front of her.
But I can hear her. \"Yes, no matter what.
What do you want, man?
\"The guy shook from left to right and adjusted his hat and crotch on his head.
\"What\'s the use of your number?
\"Slip your head, he said. \"Nope.
But how about eating something, \"said Renee.
I\'m sure she has this garbage all the time.
There was a fool in front of his friend.
I \'ve been wondering if this game works.
For example, did \"what\'s the benefit of your number\" really cover the ladies? Doubt it.
\"Ah, what.
Just let me buy a limo. \"\"No Deluxes. All out. \"\"Damn, a\'ight.
Okay, let me get five. \"\"No strips.
\"Really ? \"\"\"Really.
\"Okay, give me three-piece meal.
I know you have chicken.
The guy smiled and shook his head disappointed.
He moved to the side at this point, which was enough for me to see Renee.
She turned around and looked at all the chickens in the hotbed.
There must be 60 pieces inside.
Then she turned to the guy again. \"All out. \"\"What? \"\"All out.
No chicken.
\"Chicken ! \"
What are you talking about? \"\"All out.
The boy stood there awkwardly.
Renee smiled, raised her hands to her face, and her fingers formed a fake camera.
She acted like she was taking pictures. \"Snapshot! \" she shouted.
Then Renee took a look.
Believe the camera, just like she\'s checking the picture.
I guess it\'s an invisible number.
\"Ikes, it\'s not your best face.
\"The boys of this guy began to laugh at him, and before he could say anything, Renee said,\" please take it!
Then he was sensitive to Renee going up and down, and hated it, throwing out a typical \"you\'re not beautiful anyway ! \"!
\"In front of her, the table and chair touched as he walked out.
His sons followed him like a litter of puppies.
When they left, I looked down at my application.
People like this are always trying to mix up with other people and make them feel better, I just don\'t have the mood.
However, everyone else in line laughed.
Especially the next guy ordered 50 pieces of chicken, each one.
Obviously, that\'s why she couldn\'t sell the chicken to the jerk.
Someone already said it.
\"Thank you so much, dear.
\"I have already discussed it with Clara,\" said the man who ordered all the chicken. \"No prob, Mr. Ray. \"Mr. Ray?
I looked up and it was Mr.
Willie Ray stood there, and Renee piled the fried chicken in a cardboard bucket. Mr.
Ray is a tall stick. the neighbor knows that he has two reasons.
First of all, he did the funeral. A mortician.
He inherited Ray\'s funeral home from his father.
Strange to say, but most teenagers and old people who died here passed by Willie Ray\'s door.
The other thing that everyone knows about him is cancer. Mr.
Ray hit twice, and the only reason everyone knows is that after his second hit, he basically became Jehovah\'s cancer witness, knocking on the door and handing out brochures.
The only reason he swore that God was spared twice was to spread the news of the disease, as if no one knew what it was.
My mother used to joke with him and say, \"Willie, God saved you so you can torture the rest of us?
This is meaningless.
\"He was never angry with her.
He just used to laughing and shaking his head when he went to the next house. \"Mr. Ray? \" I called out.
\"I didn\'t see you sitting there, Matthew. How are you?
He said, coming to me with his familiar limp. \"I\'m okay.
I stood up and shook hands with him.
\"What\'s wrong with chickens?
\"Man, this is the funeral.
Well, it\'s really a remake.
None of them came to take care of it, so they paid us extra for the funeral home to take care of the accommodation.
So we always come here to get the chicken.
\"It\'s easy, everyone likes it,\" he explained . \".
\"What are you doing?
\"Just looking for a job.
\"So far, I am referring to the application where I have only filled out my name on it. \"Where, here? \"\"Yes sir. \"Mr.
Ray stood there for a while and gave it to me once.
It\'s over as if he\'s upset that I\'m trying to work at Cluck Bucket.
As far as I am concerned, this is an honest performance.
I think it can be tough sometimes, but it\'s still honest.
Also, I think I might be able to figure out what is the secret of some fried deliciousness so I can bring it back to my own kitchen.
Maybe one day my dad and I will make these cookies.
\"Matthew, if you work here, you can no longer eat here,\" he ends up joking . \".
I really don\'t think it\'s true.
I mean, you never get tired of something.
Cluck Bucket is definitely one for me.
It\'s like saying that I end up getting tired of money if I work in a bank. Yeah, right. Not that Mr. Ray was wrong.
I just can\'t see it.
But I said nothing. Just shrugged. \"Listen.
Your mother is my friend.
Your father is still
If you need a job, I will pay you a few dollars to help me solve the problem at the funeral home.
I mean, I \'ve heard that their salary in this trash shed is high, but I\'m sure I can get close and you don\'t have to smell like deep-
Fry fat every night, or put up with these fools. What you think? \" Mr.
Ray shrank his jacket sleeve and just saw his watch. he twisted his watch so that the gold noodles were on his wrist.
\"Unless,\" he said, low, his eyes still staring at the time, \"you have something that sends a net. \"Funny. Real funny.
I thought for a moment. Mr.
Ray is definitely a friend of my family.
It was him who talked to my mother about chemo and what it would be like.
He says he doesn\'t know much about breast cancer, but he does know that ice cream is the secret of feeling better when treatment makes you sick.
In fact, sir.
Ray was on the day my mother was taken to the hospital, the day she left home forever.
He helped my father to get her down the steps as she refused to have her on a stretcher by the emergency personnel.
\"I\'m not a princess, and I\'m not a baby, so I don\'t need to carry it with me,\" she snapped like a father and a gentleman.
Ray held her in her arms and let her relax while bending down, a painful step at a time.
Dad made a joke about her being the Queen. \"Damn right!
\"She replied.
Ray signed there.
\"The Queen of your house, this neighborhood, the bed --Stuy—
Daisy, you\'re the queen of Brooklyn! \" Mr. Ray joked.
Guess what?
When you go home, your throne is waiting for you here.
\"She hasn\'t been home, but we appreciate it.
Positive Ray
He\'s always like that-a good guy.
As much as I trust him, do I really want to work with him at the funeral home?
I mean, it\'s not him that I\'m worried about.
It\'s just the whole death and, in fact, I have to be with the sad people all the time.
Losing my mom is way too much for me, so it seems Hell to be with a bunch of strangers who handle the same crap. But the way Mr.
Ray is talking. he is paid well.
Although I didn\'t buy the full \"you can\'t eat here\" garbage, I didn\'t want to take the risk.
But I don\'t know if I can really do it. A funeral home? \"Thanks Mr.
\"Ray,\" I said, tapping the ink pen on the application.
\"But I don\'t think I can do it. It\'s just . . . I just . . .
\"It\'s hard for me to explain why, but from his point of view I can see that I don\'t need to do that.
\"There is no need to explain, son,\" he said, raising his hand.
\"Believe me, I see.
\"I looked down at the application shyly. Even though Mr.
Ray said he understood where I came from and when the only option was to work at a dirty chicken farm, I still felt a bit stupid to reject his offer.
But on the other hand, it doesn\'t seem like a good idea to find a job where I have to revisit my mom\'s funeral every day.
It\'s like being paid to replay the worst day of my life over and over again. Mr.
Ray put his hand on my shoulder.
\"Let me know if you change your mind.
\"I did not look up.
I just nodded and started filling in the address line and signed up for fry-duty.
But that\'s not the case. duty. Lose-lose. As soon as Mr.
Ray turned and walked towards the counter, the door opened, and a young girl rushed in, her hands pressed tightly against her mouth, and her cheeks bulging from her face.
Before she went to the bathroom
Hell, before she can get in.
She sprayed red, coarse mucus on the already sticky floor.
Looks like that old-lady pudding.
What is it called? Tapioca? Yeah.
Like cassava. But red.
If there\'s one thing I can\'t handle, it\'s vomiting.
Two things.
Cassava and vomit. I just can\'t.
Everything about throwingup is gross.
It looks like it smells like it sounds. All of it. Straight-up nasty.
So when the girl came in and threw her lunch away, I jumped off the chair and almost jumped on the gentlemanRay.
I almost knocked him over. \"What the—\" Mr.
Ray walked around after hearing the spitting hiccups and hacking.
Standing up, my chair slipped back from under the table, and my steps ran up on him. \"Clara! \" he shouted. \"Clara!
What happened to you here!
\"I stand next to the gentleman.
Ray, but in the opposite way.
I looked straight at Renee and other customers who also made money, and
Ray focused his attention on the sick child, and I could hear his ups and downs.
Renee cranked her neck to see what was going on, and as soon as she saw the mess, she tightened her lips and shook her head.
This is normal.
\"Clara, we need a clean one.
\"Get up,\" she said in a boring voice. \"Clara! \" Mr.
Ray called again.
\"Here I am, here I am! \" Clara yelped.
She came in from a door on the edge of the kitchen with a yellow mop bucket in her hand.
A man followed her behind a bag of sand and an orange cone.
\"Jesus,\" Clara said, passing by me.
I locked my eyes on the chicken.
I can\'t stand seeing vomit because they have to clean up two cassava if I do.
Clara said to the man with the sand: \"Put those things down and go and get her some water . \".
The guy ran back to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water in a flash.
\"Sit down,\" Clara said to the girl . \". \"I\'m sorry.
\"I\'m sorry,\" the girl cried over and over again, and I could tell her that she was lifting the cup into her mouth because her voice had changed. \"I\'m so sorry. I just . . .
Can\'t go to the bathroom.
\"She sounds awkward, and I\'m embarrassed to be honest.
I mean, I already have a feeling when I refuse this job
Ray gave it to me, but now I\'m obviously scared of upchuck, and I know the girl on the checkout counter is watching me act like a pussy. So, yeah—
Very embarrassing. \"Next in line! \" Renee called.
It turned out that she didn\'t pay me.
She tripped nothing.
It was just another day of work for her.
I don\'t know how anyone can still have an appetite, especially now the whole place smells like old wet socks, but people keep ordering. Mr.
Ray faced the front of the restaurant and put his arm around me.
\"Great, Matthew . \" He said.
\"Continue to complete your application.
Hell, they should hire you just because you have to put up with this!
He smiled and went to the checkout counter. \"Wait. Mr. Ray.
I reached out and grabbed his arm.
He turned to me again. \"Will I . . . uh . . .
Shall I touch the dead?
\"The question of honesty.
He crossed his arms.
\"Do you think? \"\"No. \"\"Then, no.
\"I weighed my choices. Funerals suck.
The possibility of not being able to eat my favorite fast food, dealing with random madmen who come in and say rubbish, cleaning up rubbish --
It\'s really bad.
\"Well,\" I said to the gentleman. Ray. \"Okay? \"\"Okay. \"Mr. Ray smiled.
\"Well,\" he said, nodding his head.
\"Come on, you can start now.
\"I followed him to the cashier.
I put Clara\'s pen on the counter.
Ray put on his suit coat and took out a few cancer brochures and put them in front of Renee\'s register, as if they were some kind of tip or something.
\"Give these to your grandma,\" he said, as we collected all the chicken barrels.
\"You see,\" Renee said very well as we walked towards the door.
I hold my breath like I did with my husband.
Ray tipto walked past a pile of sand with his toes covered with anything left by vomit, leaving only my name and half of my address on the table.
\"Whose funeral is it? \" I asked Mr.
When we put the chicken on the plate, Ray. The repast (
I don\'t really know what their names are, but it\'s dinner after the funeral-the repast)
It happened in the basement of the funeral home and the actual service was going on upstairs.
I know the only reason some funerals happen at the funeral home is because we used to see people standing outside ray in black and hugging, just like the funeral they had at the church.
The benefit of the Ray funeral home is that at least the air conditioning is effective.
\"Do you know Ronda? \" Mr. Ray asked.
He put a breast next to one leg. \"Ms. Jameson died? \"\"No. Ms.
James is good.
Her father died last week. \"\"Oh,\" I said.
\"Well, at least she has had him for a long time. \"\"Yeah.
He still shook his head.
\"But it has never been easier. \"Mr.
Ray put these big and beautiful bowls on the table and scooped a spoonful of canned vegetables.
The food area looks good, I have to admit.
He put tablecloths and fake flowers on the table (
I hate real flowers but I will go)
Let me put up the fold of the cushion.
Not a regular hard chair. butt ones.
There was really nothing to do after all the food was finished and all the tables were set up, but I still didn\'t want to go home.
I also hope Mr.
Ray did not begin to explore my feelings and all of them.
I mean, when people ask these questions, I know they mean well, but in the end, they are stupid questions.
How do I feel?
Let me think about it.
My mother\'s funeral was held a few days ago, so I\'m definitely not happy.
I\'m lucky, sir.
Ray did not ask such a question.
In fact, he didn\'t say anything to my mother.
Instead, he started talking about what he looked like when he was my age. \"Man,\" Mr.
Ray sighed and said, \"you are better than me.
You\'re in charge, you know?
He leaned against the wall and crossed his ankle.
\"I think,\" I said, not sure where this conversation will go.
\"I mean, I haven\'t thought about not having a job or something like that.
I only thought about one thing. skirts.
\"Do you want to wear a skirt ? \"
I asked in shock. \"No, man! I didn\'t mean\"—
When he was excited, his harsh voice sounded more harsh --
\"I mean girl, man. Skirts.
We\'re thinking about girls.
Like your friend Chris. \"Mr.
Ray seemed disappointed because I didn\'t find his old problem. school slang. \"Oh. \" I smirked.
Chris must have thought of the girl.
\"Well, I miss them too. A lot.
I think I\'m thinking about other things too.
\"I don\'t really see a big deal at this point.
Great girl.
But the same is true of graduating from high school and leaving it behind. Forever.
Seems basic to me.
That\'s why you\'re different.
Man, my brother Robbie and I crashed a car and removed our eyes from the road to see some lady\'s ass --parts. \"Hind-parts?
I sneaked, sir.
Ray laughed too.
He might have thought I was laughing at him and his brother, but it was actually the word hind --parts. Such an old-people word.
Throughout the course of our conversation, I could hear people upstairs walking around.
I couldn\'t hear it, but every step passed.
I want to know, sir.
The funeral of Jameson is taking place.
If they are laughing or crying, or both.
If someone whispers a stupid comment to someone next to him, say how good he is
James looked at death. If Ms.
Jamesen is surging. Like I did. \"Mr.
Ray, can I ask you something? \"\"Of course.
\"I can tell him to cross his legs in another way through him, and I thought I would ask him something about the girl. But I didn\'t.
\"Can I go up? \"\"Where?
He asked in confusion. I pointed up. \"Up there? To the funeral.
Just a second. \"\"Why?
\"He tilted his head slightly to one side. I just shrugged.
I can\'t tell him why, because I\'m not sure I really knew why at the time.
I just suddenly wanted to go. I needed to. Mr.
Ray looked at me hard for a few seconds.
Then he bit his teeth.
\"Come over, Matthew,\" he said, taking off his suit coat.
\"Please respect me if you are going there.
\"He opened his coat so that I could put my arm in.
Sit behind.
The speed of Clark\'s funeral-
O \"JAMESONUpstairs, the funeral home is almost the same as downstairs, with no tables except for the darker colors.
It\'s just a row of padded folds.
There is a wooden podium in front.
The lights went dark, which was very different from the bright lights in the church at my mother\'s funeral.
The darkness makes it look more serious.
Also, it will hide you better in case you explode. Robbie Ray, Mr.
Ray\'s brother is the host of the funeral, just like you were when you had a priest in the church.
But Robbie Ray is not a pastor.
In fact, he is almost still the one who watched the \"rear\" crash.
When he was young, he was old except now.
But he looks young.
Much younger than Mr. Ray.
He is always dressed like he is looking for a date.
Tight suits in shirts always unbutton the way we live on an island or somewhere else until the middle of the chest.
He always wears a gold watch, a gold chain, a gold slug in front of his mouth, and a gold ring on his small finger.
My mother used to be a clown for him, saying that he was trapped somewhere between 1970 and outer space.
\"Now, we will hear something from some gentlemen.
Robbie said his voice was as low as a late Man
Evening radio host
Sometimes I think he did it on purpose just to match his whole style.
But I\'m not sure.
He moved his finger to the program to make sure he called the right name. \"Mr. McCray?
\"I slipped into a seat at the back like a gentleman. Ray told me.
I felt a little silly not because I attended a random funeral, but because my arm looked like a stylus on the gentleman
Ray\'s big suit jacket
Because Sir, it fits my shoulder.
Ray is thin, but the sleeves are too long.
I keep pulling them to my wrist and trying to get my fingers out so they don\'t slide down.
Next to me was an old lady in a purple dress and a black purple polka --dot shirt.
Who said you have to wear all black to the funeral, I think when I look down at my blue jeans and green Brown Nike.
I glanced at her and nodded.
She gave me an awkward look.
At first I thought she knew I didn\'t belong there.
But she kept twisting her nose like she was going to sneeze, so I guess it\'s all Mr. Cologne.
Ray\'s suit jacket
I don\'t know what\'s going on with the old man and Cologne.
My mother once said that when men get older, they think anything that smells bad can kill bacteria better than soap and hot water, so they either take a bath with white wine or take a bath with cologne.
I want to lean on the old lady and tell her I\'m sorry for the stench, and I hope it won\'t bring her more grief than she already feels. But I didn\'t.
I just made whatever look I thought was saying sorry and nodded to her.
\"In the afternoon, in the afternoon,\" the speakers mumbled. \"I\'m A. J. McCrary. Not McCray. McCrary. Old, curved
Someone was staring at him because Robbie Ray messed up his name.
\"Anyway, you all know how Clark got the name speed. O? \" A. J.
McCrary leaned against the podium and spoke to the microphone.
His face looks like leather and his eyes are big and glass.
He had only white hair on both sides of his head, just like he was wearing a pure cotton earmuff.
Do you want to know?
\"He asked again, and his voice was as empty and weird as all the teeth in his mouth were loose.
Some of the people in the crowd mumbled, others shouted, \"tell it!
He adjusted the microphone and said, \"Oh, I\'m here to tell you . \"
\"One time, a long time ago, when we were kids, there was an old donut shop on DeKalb, and all the police were frequent.
So we were outside and Clark started talking to me about the pig and the pig, who had been reading the black paper to see what Malcolm X said in Harlem.
It\'s in your sixties, so you know what\'s going on.
People change their names and so on.
The elderly in the crowd nodded and agreed.
I took a look at the lady next to me and imagined her as an African. Yikes.
\"Clark kicked all these revolutionary things, and I told him, \'Man, you\'re nothing.
You\'re just talking about your trap.
But you won\'t do it-
The old man found himself going to vomit.
\"A damn thing.
People began to giggle.
He said, \'Oh, right? Watch this.
Next, I know the Fool ran out of the donut shop with a donut in his hand, a donut in his mouth, and a young white police officer followed him with his donut stolen.
Can you imagine?
A policeman said loudly: thief, thief!
Everyone began to laugh at this crazy story. Even me.
\"I didn\'t see him for a few days after that . \"
\"But when I did, he told me that he had never been caught!
To prove this, he told me that there was another donut in his house.
He said Brother Malcolm talked about anything you do for yourself, what you do for your brother.
So the other donut is mine.
I can\'t believe it.
Because that\'s crazy.
Because he risked his life eating donuts.
There are three more, because he really surpassed the police!
You know how fast it is to leave the police. . . on foot? Pretty damn\"—
He found out again. \"daggone fast!
So I started calling him speed. It\'s stuck.
\"He laughed and began to cough hard at the microphone and took out a handkerchief from his back pocket and spit it out.
Robbie Ray reached out and asked him to help him in his seat, although Sir.
McCrary doesn\'t look ready to sit down.
But realizing that his time was up, he looked back at the crowd and pressed his lips against the microphone as if he were kissing the microphone.
\"We will miss him and his family.
\"Thank you,\" he quickly added, his voice is now too loud to pop out of the speaker.
Everybody shook his head, Mr. confirmation.
That\'s who Jameson is.
Robbie Ray goes back to the microphone to introduce the next speaker.
I \'ve always felt something stuck to my chest, so I put my hand in my jacket to see what\'s been poking at me all the time.
Of course, I didn\'t think about it. I took out at least ten cancer brochures.
I forgot whose jacket I was wearing for a while.
The lady next to me shot me.
I just made a strange robot face while taking pictures.
Big Eyes, tight lips
And try to put the brochure back in your pocket as soon as possible.
Especially I don\'t know Mr.
James died.
It could be cancer.
That\'s awkward. \"Mr.
\"Wallace,\" said Robbie in his strange, false, sexy voice.
There is a huge rose in the second row.
Seriously, the biggest man I \'ve ever seen in real life.
His head is as big as basketball, and his back is like a king. size mattress.
Except bricks.
\"Good afternoon,\" said the giant.
I tried not to laugh but I couldn\'t believe what I heard.
The sound of this huge monster is six. year-old. High, squeaky. Like, cute.
I can hear this strange sound when you try to laugh, but a little bit leaked --
Like a fart mouth
The whole church is happening.
People try not to crash, but his voice makes things so hard.
\"Well, my name is mouse,\" he said, leaning down to the microphone.
His hand was as big as the oven gloves, holding tightly to both sides of the wooden podium.
He could have torn it apart if he wanted. \"And Speed-
O training me when I first got a job at the trucking company.
We worked together for a long time.
Have a good time.
A lot of laughs.
The mouse smiled, and a big gap flashed through the two front teeth as if he suddenly remembered those moments.
Anyone who knows the speed
O know he likes to tell stories, and the crazy thing is, you never know if these stories are true or false.
You know he\'s not a liar, at least it doesn\'t look like a liar.
But some stories are ridiculous.
The mouse gave a smirk.
Sounds like a neverending hiccup.
\"Like this time, we rode five cars across Arizona --day delivery.
August, I think.
It\'s very hot.
Brooklyn has nothing in Arizona in the summer.
He pretended to wipe the sweat off his face.
\"So we drove the car to the gas station, some random points on the map. And Speed-
O started talking about how he stopped at that exact same gas station in Arizona last time it was so hot last time he saw a horse leaning against the fridge --
Do you know those old freezers outside some stores? One of them.
The horse was leaning, he said, and his four legs crossed over his ankle, panting like a dog. All four legs!
Then he said that someone had put a cigarette in the horse\'s mouth, because the dang horse looked breathless by the hot air pressure.
Laughter burst into the room.
The mouse continued, \"shoot, so I asked him . \".
\"I said, speed-
Oh, you sure you don\'t feel the heat, what do you see?
Do you know what he said? He said, \'Nope.
I know it\'s true because I lit the smoke of the horse!
The room broke out again.
People are screaming, swinging back and forth, wiping tears in their eyes.
I mean, not only is the story funny, but the big guy who tells the story sounds like a little kid, which makes it better.
I looked at the old lady next to her and she laughed.
She glanced at me and nodded when she saw that I was laughing.
Everyone is pushing nud each other, and I can say that some other people in the room have heard the story before.
In a strange way, I think I know Mr.
At least at that moment.
\"He\'s too serious.
He never said he was joking or even laughing.
He just opened a honey bread while smoking and told the story, his favorite Road snack.
He is a good friend.
I miss him very much, but I am very happy to meet him.
\"The Mouse went back to the seat and almost everything and everyone was bumping.
When most people are still laughing
Jameson walked up to the microphone.
\"My name is Ronda Jamson.
She stood there for a while, waiting for the crowd to be quiet.
Clark, or speed.
As most of you knowis my father. \"Ms.
Jameson looks tired but still optimistic.
It\'s definitely a cool funeral as far as I know.
Not like my mother.
\"I just want to say thank you for coming.
My father knows that you will be very excited about your last good. byes.
In this way, her eyes began to swell and filled with tears.
She whispered to herself, \"I won\'t cry . \" She took a deep breath.
\"He will want you to know that he did it his own way.
He is honest in his way.
\"Everyone is like Ms.
Jameson winked at the mouse, who flashed his cheerful smile.
\"He\'s loyal, his way.
Now she nodded to the gentleman. McCrary.
\"But most importantly, the way he loves him,\" she said, her face began to melt as the water rose in her eyes. \"He loved . . .
\"She started but couldn\'t get it out.
The fault came and no one stopped it.
I suddenly sat in my seat anxiously.
My stomach began to feel strange, and strangely, I was a little desperate to know what was going to happen next. Would she cry?
Will she run out?
Will she faint?
It\'s not like I\'m glad to see her.
Jameson, a lady I \'ve known in the neighborhood for most of my life, sad.
But I was wondering if she felt how I felt. \"He loved . . .
Her voice floated. \"I\'m sorry. I just . . . I just . . .
\"She turned away from the microphone and looked to the left as if she was looking for someone to help her, but no one was there.
She began to tremble, biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
A few people in the crowd shouted, \"it\'s okay!
But this is not the case.
I know that, she knows better than anyone in the room.
Robbie Ray came over to help her, and as she stumbled and cried the rest of her speech, he held her tightly. After that—
It may sound strange.
I feel very satisfied.
I am not staying for the past, and it is likely to become a tradition. Funerals only. Nothing else. I gave Mr.
Ray returned his fashionable coat and told him I was going home. \"Homework?
He asked like an old man.
\"Unfortunately,\" I lied.
I don\'t have any homework.
When people start to introduce themselves and talk about how they know Mr. I just don\'t want to be aroundJameson.
It would be very embarrassing if his loved ones found out that I had never met this person.
We have never shared such jokes or suggestions.
I was just watching the funeral outside, like playing pickup games in the park or watching a reality show.
Crashed coffin
\"Yeah, you\'re not the same.
\"There\'s nothing better than me and Robbie . \"
Ray said it again and slipped his arm back into his suit coat.
\"You go.
We will meet here after school tomorrow. \"I nodded. \"I\'ll be here.
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