Innocence Vs. Experience

For this one, we drew slips of paper with two opposite terms written on them. Here's mine:



Innocence Vs Experience



“Are you experienced?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Cause we don’t want no last minute fuck ups out there.”
“No, it’s cool.”
“Look this is where you get to walk away from this. Once you in this, you in this. Get me?”
“What do I look like, some kind of pussy. Cause I could walk. You asked me to do this, remember?”
He put up his hands,”Sorry. Sheesh- got some chispa, ey.”
I took the pistol from him.

“That’s why they call me spark.”

All the way to the spot I let my hand fly out the passenger window. The wind in the gaps between each finger were like water. We slowed down as we entered a residential neighborhood. All the houses looked the same, spongey stuccoed exterior with hollow walls. The same __ palm tree in every yard.

“Had a be a rich kid,” I muttered.
“Sorry?” said the drivers.
“Nothing.”

A rich kid. Not even from our neighborhood. Some preppy who got my homegirl fucked up at a house party just so he could do her. That’s my homegirl. You don’t do that shit and not have karma coming at you from the barrel of a gun.
We passed the houses, but I knew we were getting close. Parking was getting shittier and you could here a deejay.
The sound of a synthesizer imitating a trumpet and a repetitive crashing beat got louder.

“Fucking paisa shit,” said the driver.
“Yeah,” I said quickly and then turned away. Dude and I got nothing to do with each other. But he had wanted to get this kid for a while too for cheating him out of some dope cash or some stupid shit, so we’re setting two wrongs right with one stone. Or bullet. Whatever.

He kept the car running. It was like I was just going to pick somebody up, so whatever. Through the driveway and into the backyard. Groups of people standing around talking to each other, not even seeing me. It was so easy. Don’t ever let nobody tell you it’s hard. It’s real easy.
And I spotted the asshole right away too, by the speaker. Nobody would even hear the pop.

“You angel?”
He checked me out. “Yeah?”
“This is for my homegirl, Mari.”

And I did it so fast, so fast that I can’t even believe it happened. I pulled the small pistol out of my hoodie, put it in his stomach and fired. Nobody even heard. I ran out of there and didn’t look back.

I yelled Go Go Go Go to the car, but shit. It wasn’t there anymore. Fuck. I’d been duped.

I kept running, I kept running, I kept running.

And they found me, huddled in the orange groves. Big flashlight eyes peering down at me.
“I’m innocent,” I screamed, “I’m innocent.”