A Luta Continua
This is fiction.
I: When was the last time you were in L.A.?
P: It’s been about two years. I remember when I left my mom begged me not to go, almost like she knew I wouldn’t come back for a really long time. And I figured I’d be back in a few months.
I: Yeah. It’s wild, the way the seasons here are so different.
P: Yesterday I saw a jackfruit that was bigger than a house, and it had purple fur. It was insane.
I: Whoa! Did you bite off a chunk?
P: No man. A couple of dragons came and starting gnawing at it like crazy. They barely noticed me.
I: Dragon dragons?
P: Dude. They were dragons.
I: Here be dragons!
Enter B, a man in a bear costume.
B: Sup bros.
P: Hey dude. You know Irfan?
I: Hey man, good to meet you. I like the outfit.
B: Yo, I just have to keep it real, son.
P: It’s hella hot out here, man. You sure you’re sufficiently hydrated?
B: I’m crazy hydrated. I have, like, seven gallons of water and some exotic juices underneath my bear skin, bro. I even have tomato juice in case I get hungry. I’m totally sorted.
I: Whoa!
P: Seriously, Bernard knows what’s up.
B: I have to school you bros in my bear ways. You need to join the clan of the cave bear.
I: What the f&#k is that?
B: You haven’t heard of the clan?
P: Just tell him what it is, dude.
B: I’m not sure I should tell you. I kind of think I need to rap it to you.
P: Oh, it’s on now.
B: Brrrrrrrrrrng brrrrrrrrrrrng. Yo, yo, yo, yo.
P: [Beatboxing.]
B: Hello? Hello? Who is it on the telepho-/no/I’m Apollo like Ohno/Yoko/drinking hot cocoa/some say I’m loco/Kokomo/Beach Boy for life but I wear a bear suit/but even when I’m naked, son/I’m hella hirsute/here’s truth/I’m realer than you.
P: Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn son!
I: I’m not even gonna pretend I know what just happened dude. That was ill.
B: You mean ill like I’m on the next level/rebble/rebble/I Hamburgled you/before I gurgled you.
I: I meant ill more like I’m worried about your mental health ill.
P: Hey, be cool man.
B: Yo, your boy’s a little, you know. I don’t know, bro. I don’t know.
P: It’s all cool, man.
B: Don’t mess with the cave bear! Grrrrrooowwwwl!
I: What the hell was that?
P: Just chill, seriously.
B: It ain’t a thang. I mean, not everyone is into the whole bear thing. I get it.
I: Hey man, sorry for giving you a hard time. It’s totally cool. I mean, I respect what you do.
B: You don’t have to respect me. Just respect the clan, bro.
I: Who is in this clan exactly?
P: Oh no …
B: How can I describe a sunset to a blind man? It’s like a mystical explosion of joy and serenity, only real quiet-like. It’s like a billion suns in a Capri Sun, but it’s all flavors — it’s not light, it’s air-tight, tighter than my Girbaud jeans — I’m invisible: I’m unseen. My clan is so tight even baby molecules can’t escape. And then the baby molecules have baby molecules, that also can’t escape: it’s a trip.
I: You know what? That totally made sense to me.
B: Now you’re on some rebble-rebble.
I: Rebble-rebble!
B: Yo, I’ve got to run some supertight secret missions for my cave bear bros. Come over to the crib some time and I’ll hook you up with some tight-ass tomato juice.
P: Cool man. See you soon.
I: Nice meeting you, dude.
B leaves the stage.
I: Yo, that dude was crazy, dude. He’s definitely had way too much tomato juice.
P: He’s actually a pretty cool cat. A little touched in the head. But I wonder sometimes, like, maybe he has everyone fooled, you know what I mean?
I: Please elaborate.
P: Like, maybe he actually has everything figured out. You haven’t seen his place, but it’s sick. And I have no idea where his money comes from. That bear costume looks hobo-stank, but it has crazy titanium bionic s#&t all over the place, and crazy electronics and heat-seeking missiles.
I: And several concealed gallons of tomato juice.
P: Exactly.
I: So what’s up with you, man? Everything cool?
P: Honestly? I kind of miss how everything was back in the day. I miss TV.
I: I can barely believe that something called TV existed.
P: TV was sweet. I loved that show Undercover Boss. Damn, I loved watching those bosses get down with the people, man.
I: I was all about SportsCenter.
P: That wasn’t my thing, man. You play sports ever?
I: Sometimes I go down by the fire pit and play Dragonbop with the Yag-yak-nors.
P: Serious?
I: Yeah dude, they’re totally chill.
P: This is going to sound weird, but I think it would be fresh to have a unicorn horn.
I: Oh yeah, it’s awesome, but it’s also totally functional. Like, those dudes play awesome D.
P: That makes sense.
I: Yo, I’m feeling pretty hungry.
P: Me too.
I: Want some jackfruit?
P: Hell yeah!
I: Let’s do this.
P: You know what?
I: What?
P: I’m really glad to have you as a friend. I mean, s&#t is so crazy these days that I don’t always know which way is up, you know what I’m saying?
I: Word. I mean, damn dude. You just took the words right out of my mouth. Like, I know you’re not supposed to say this, but I get scared, man.
P: It’s hella scary. I remember, me and my sister used to chill, watch cartoons. And then …
I: It’s like the whole world became a cartoon, but a mad scary cartoon.
P: For real.
I: Hey man.
P: Yeah?
I: We’ll find your sister.
P: Yeah, I know.
I: I’m serious, man. She’s okay.
P: She’s pretty tough. Like, she’s no joke.
I: Yeah.
P: Let’s get some of that jackfruit before the dragons eat it.
I: Word. Just let me grab my macka-lope-a-scope.
Awwwwwwww yeah!!!
— Ned · May 6, 01:41 AM · #
Your control of youth dialect is scary. Scary good. (Though I think the main thematic point here could be inserted with a little more subtlety — the tension about finding the sister is a bit rough/overt for my taste.)
Q: Microfiction or part of screenplay? What I’ve read here seems to conduce to the latter. And if it is a screenplay, what I claimed to be an abrupt vertical/thematic intrusion probably would work fine.
— jahs · May 6, 01:57 AM · #
Reihan Salam is a national treasure.
— brian · May 6, 02:20 AM · #
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: the next Cory Doctorow.
— Chris Hallquist · May 6, 04:02 AM · #
As noted earlier, unicorns are becoming increasimgly common.
— tony comstock · May 6, 10:58 AM · #
Sublime.
— Maureen · May 6, 12:45 PM · #
Epistemic closure, my ass.
— Stephen · May 6, 05:44 PM · #
You’re calling this fiction only to protect yourself.
— Mark in Houston · May 6, 11:28 PM · #
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— ysl · May 7, 08:08 AM · #
You’re calling this fiction only to protect yourself.
— juicy couture · May 8, 03:09 AM · #