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My Spot (standard:Suspense, 5439 words)
Author: demonseedAdded: Apr 27 2003Views/Reads: 1930/1321Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
he thought he could just get a look but.....
 



I was in a good mood as I walked down Bryan Avenue on my way home from
downtown lockup.  My old neighborhood, the old stomping grounds.  
Stomping the ground now with heavy Timberland boots.  Cars passed by 
but I took no notice, as the blare of drum and bass blasted through my 
headphones. 

Things seemed different as I passed the building where Papa Don's
Pizzeria once resided as the hangout for the junior high schoolers.  
The tape in my Walkman faded to white noise, signaling the end of side 
b.  Most of my music was on tapes.  I rewound the tape as static burst 
into my ears, yet over the static an ice cream truck coasted by with 
the gay jingle of I scream you scream we all scream for ice cream. It 
made a turn right, going up Tyler Drive. 

The Phillie's Blunt, produced from my pocket, lay across my lips as I
sucked the sweetness from the tip.  Damn I needed some weed. The sleep 
deprivation of the past night definitely would be soothed with some 
weed.  Pulling out my cellphone, I called my boy Charlie for some of 
his never-fail-chronic. 

"I'll be there in five bro." 

The taped stopped.  I replayed side b and turned up the volume. Yet over
my own drum and bass, I heard, or rather felt, an extremely heavy bass. 
 A black Suburban with darkly tinted windows slowly drifted by. It was 
behind the ice cream truck by about half of a minute.  The reason for 
the encore performance of side b quickly distracted me from this 
traffic scene. 

As I walked across the intersection of Tyler and Bryan, I noticed
something I thought was a little strange.  The ice cream truck was 
parked in front the warehouse across the street and the driver was out 
of the truck.  He was European of some sort, fat but tall and had 
light, yellow blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.  He surveyed the 
area, spotting me but not acknowledging me.  What the hell, wonder what 
he's up to?  Shit maybe he's pulling a Cheech and Chong operation, 
selling drugs from the truck, I muttered to myself. 

The driver walked up swinging the heavy steel door with tremendous ease.
I stupidly decided I wanted a better look, so I dashed behind a bush in 
front of the warehouse's window turning off the Walkman.  I don't think 
the driver sees me.  The driver lit a cigarette, surveyed the area 
again, and got into the truck but did not enter the warehouse.  
Snickering to myself I figured he was doing the obvious, returning the 
truck for the day. 

As I was about to leave the concealment from behind the bush, when that
same heavy bass of the Suburban, suggested that I continue hiding.  For 
good reason too.  The Suburban pulled up behind the ice cream truck.  
Remaining hidden behind the bush, I heard the ice cream truck as it 
proceeded into the warehouse.  I had to get a look, had to, so I took a 
peek from out of the bush just as the bass died. 

The atmosphere changed, causing a temporary effect of hearing loss.  All
I could see was the SUV's exhaust pipe.  It must of just came from the 
car wash, as I see water trickle from the edge of the pipe.  The 
Suburban also drove into the warehouse, followed by the shrieking clang 
of the steel door being closed shut. 

Coming out from the bush I made my own survey of the area.  It was 5:30
but for some reason no one was at the park across the street.  
Completely deserted, I conspired. 

A light flickered on from inside the room where I had just came from
hiding.  I hear papers being kicked across the floor followed by men's 
voices.  A man with a German accent asked someone if he told him?  
There was no response.  Or did I not hear one, I thought to myself.  
The window was caked with years of dust and I couldn't see any 
silhouettes emitted from the light inside, so I decided to go back 
behind the bush.  Maybe I can hear something, I thought. 

“Where do we go this time?” One man said in a thick German accent. 

“This man we weak for he's a very paranoid.  He meet under bridge at
Portland Boulevard.  This man give time schedule.  It is now 5:35 and 


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