Lies

I'm out again. Adventure number 26, I believe. Yes, I am calling my outings adventures now. The last few times, I've discovered a few playgrounds, collected a few bottle caps, and bought a few packets of gum at the gas station. My adventures.

I look out the window to admire this morning's heavy coat of dreary rain. And thunder.

I leave the room quickly and then the building. I hear a woman scream. She runs towards me. "CHICKENS!" She runs past me up the apartment stairs. The crazy people in this town...

Suddenly, a giant flapping crowd of chickens scatter onto the road. They shriek and babble to one another in excitement. Their feathers soak in the giant drops of rain falling from the grey sky. A few of the chickens waddle helplessly towards the bowling alley. Others go in the opposite direction towards the sketchy Royal Motel. I stand in awe at the sight. Dozens of chaotic chickens cover Katz Avenue painting it a whitish gold. The residents of Wilshire Tower all stare, gawking at the sight. The women scream in fright. The children question their mommies in confusion. The old men overlook the sight as if it's some sort of daily occurrence in their lives.

I look around to see where the fluttering mass came from. A giant chicken coop truck is parked in front of the butcher shop. The gate in the back is open.

I go to the open truck to inspect. Inside, I see a little feathered ball still inside. A little chicken is sleeping soundly in one of the cages. He must have missed the cue of escape. I reach into his cubicle and try to pick him up. He wakes up with a jerk and warns me with the span of his soft white wings. I try again, resisting his struggling fight against me. As he flaps around crazily, I place him on the ground.

This little chicken balls up again. "What's the matter, little chicken? Why don't you go?" I ask him.

"HEY YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" A man shouts at me. He must be the chicken truck driver.
"What? Me? Nothing," I say quickly, stupidly.
"Did you open this?!" he shouts.
"No," I say like a baby.
"Mhm. Then why did I see you taking this chicken out of my truck?"
"It wasn't me," I lie.
"I saw you, little girl!" he shouts again.
"I mean, I didn't open it."
He gets really close to my face, so close I can feel his nasty breath stifling the air from reaching my nose. He says, "You know, little girls who lie go to hell."

I stamp on his foot with all my might. He bends over in pain to reach his foot, his face red and explosive. I run back to my apartment so quickly that I hardly remember my feet hitting the ground at all. "Get her!" the man yelled angrily when I stomped on his foot. I still hear him yelling in my head.

High Up

Tonight, Amber and Marge say, "Kaiya, we're taking you to the carnival down the street."

Mrs. and Mr. James used to take me to the carnivals in England. I remember the bumper cars - Mrs. James and I in one car chasing Mr. James in vicious attempt. The giant stuffed bears, gorillas, and ducks Mr. James would win for me hitting glass bottles and shooting water guns. The apple-green cotton candy and delicious roasted turkey legs. And most of all, I remember riding the porcelain-like ponies on the merry-go-round. The dwindling xylophone music ringing from the speakers above. The loud, laughing children surrounding me, but I stayed shy, quiet, encompassing the details around me. Mrs. James waved to me with her bright blonde smile every time I faced her in the cycle. The merry-go-round was my favorite part.

Tonight is different, though. Amber and Marge have put me in a ridiculous rain suit. "Oh, don't fuss, Kaiya," they say as I pull at the ugly piss yellow material. "It's pouring down. Let's not get sick." I don't see them in this kind of monstrosity.

Tonight, we walk to the carnival down the street. I look up at Amber and Marge in disgust because of the immense lack of rain.

We arrive. The carnival is greyer than the sky. There is a tall ferris wheel on my right, probably half the height of our building. The colored bulbs on the wheel have dimmed from use, I suppose. Bumber cars on my left, scratched and beat up. A haunted house - not going in there. No merry-go-round. This carnival seems much smaller than the ones in England.

"Here, Kaiya, some tickets," says Amber. I take them in my hands. They leave me.

"Well, where should we go first, dahling?" I asked myself, just as Mrs. James would have if she were here. She would place our tickets in her breastpocket. She would hold my hand tight so as not to lose me in the crowd. "How about the ferris wheel, Mrs. James?" I pretend that we are together tonight, and that we are at the English carnivals.

Mrs. James and I walk in our patient way over to the colossal structure. Colossal . She taught me that word. Probably most of the English words I know, actually. We meet the friendly ticketman at the ride entrance.

"Two tickets each, ladies," he says. "Have a nice ride."

Mrs. James and I carefully mount the seat before us. I am scared all over again. "Don't be scared, my little Kaiya," she says. "I would never let you fall." I smile and sit beside her. The ticketman starts the ride. Mrs. James and I soar over beautiful, sunny England. "Look, it's our house, Kaiya. Do you see it?"

"Yes," I laugh. I am not scared anymore.

"KAIYA! Wow! You're so high up!"

It's Marge. I look down to see her with her arm around an awkward man. He must be Shayn Todd, Marge's new "flame." She said, "Well, he's just had a bad break up so I decided why not have a night out with him to make him feel better." That's why we're here, of course. Although, I wouldn't say her plan is working. Shayn looks a bit unneasy, but he waves at me. I wave back with my deepest sympathy.

Suddenly, Mrs. James disappears like a ghost.

I hate Marge.