Stories of A Graffiti Mind

Hearing Colors to See Sounds pt3
March 14, 2009, 3:11 am
Filed under: Uncategorized
throw up done by Banksy

throw up done by Banksy

Lunch hour rushes in with a chime.  Marcus is lucky enough to find an old bathroom to hide out in.  Practicing his graffiti tag was a favorite pastime that could be seen all over the south side to the police department’s dismay.

As Marcus leaves the bathroom a teacher grabs him by the shoulder. “Gotcha” she says with a stern voice.  “I figured you would be in here, your name is Mr. Green is it not?”  “Hell if I know lady.  Let me go.”  Marcus’s face visibly gets more agitated.  “My name is Ms. Alford and I am the new principle, come with me.”  Confused at this teachers young and fit appearance Marcus complies with her command only after smacking his lips.

Ms. Alford motions for Marcus to walk in front of her.  Marcus knew that it was procedure so that he would not run away.  If she only knew that there was no reason to.  They walk down the war torn hallways until they reach the front of the school.  The office is noticeably the newest addition to the school.

A woman at the front desk frowns as they walk in.  “I told you Cameron this place will chew you up and spit you out.  Leave while you still have the chance.”  Ms. Alford turns around, opens her office door and motions for Marcus to sit.  “Julie this is a job I was born for.”  She closes the door and closes the blinds to blanket the ever watching grey sky.

Marcus could not see in the hallway but now that they were in closer proximity he could smell the youth on her.  Her perfume remains untainted by the mold filled ceiling that plagues the school.  She wore a tight skirt that left a little more to the imagination.

Her eyes then turn and became fixated on Marcus.  “So cut the bull shit what were you doing in there?”  Marcus slips into his seat and looks to the window.

“Come on I am here to try and help you.  I do not see what the big deal is.”  Marcus sucks his teeth in and looks to the clock.  Lunch has just begun.  Ms Alford crosses her arms and reclines in her chair. “You know something kid.  I’m going to tell you something.  Make sure you listen well.”

An uneasy pause sticks in the air adding to the humidity.   “I used to work for the FBI. I used to bring people in for interrogation all of the time.  Wait let me correct myself, when I brought them in to get questioned I would kick them in their chest then ask questions later.”

“So that is how you got this position.”  Marcus answers in a curious tone.  “Oh so you can talk again.  I am happy now you can help me.  I am not interested into the reasons why you were in that bathroom at this moment.”  “I am not snitching,” Marcus answers without hesitation.

There is no hint of humor in his tone.  Ms Alford proceeds to sit in her chair while Marcus looks at the clock once more.  “No I do not want you to snitch on anyone; I want to learn a little bit more about you as a person.”  Marcus smiles and leans in with more curiosity.  “Me.  What do you want to know?”

Ms. Alford turns her computer chair so that she can cross her slender legs.  “Well first off what is it with you guys and your sagging pants and shoes?  Why are they so important?”  Marcus rolls his eyes and chuckles.  “That is what you want to know?  A former FBI white lady wants to know what makes me tick huh?”

Marcus’s smile fades as his demeanor becomes ghostly serious.  “Lady let me tell you something, you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.” “Why don’t you enlighten me then?” Ms Alford retorts back with fervor.  “Come on let me know what’s up.”

Marcus takes a final look at the clock and takes a deep breath.  “Lady you have a lot of balls to walk up in here and not know a damn thing about who you have in your school.  The rule of the streets is to know your enemy better than you know yo self.  That way you got all the info that you need.  My pants, Ms Alford, sag because I do not have a belt.

Truthfully it was a style that developed from prisons because they couldn’t have any.  My shoes are a part of my fit.  It is a symbol of respect.  They make the outfit.” Ms. Alford cracks an uneasy smile to interrupt. “You speak so well, why did I catch you ditching class?  I know you have potential.”

“I know I do too, that is the reason why I am here in the first place.  Look let me cut this short.   I have something that I need to do.  First of all, you trying to understand me is a problem in itself.  You have no idea what it’s like to be me.  What it’s like to go hungry and watch dough boys ride around your neighborhood with money bursting outside their pockets.

When is the last time you walked into a grocery store and you got followed around by the clerk.”  Ms. Alford pauses and looks to down to her desk.  Before she can answer Marcus interjects and adds, “Never, never lady.  You tell us to go to school and get an education with books that are outdated.  Do you know how much money I can make in a day?  More than what you make in five years.

Marcus begins to let his passion spill over into his speech.  “Society is the most hypocritical thing I have ever seen.  War on drugs is just an excuse to come into my home late at night.  How can you win something that is completely out of anyone’s hands?  There is always someone who is going to get the short end of the stick right?

I choose to survive.”  Ms. Alford begins to become uneasy, yet her facial expression conveys concern.  “I had no idea about that I just thought it was urban decay.  I’m sorry, that is a term used for a large amount of people living together.”  Marcus’s words ring in her ear like a drum in a quartet.  She catches herself drifting off into thought as Marcus begins to speak again.

“Look here lady your street lesson has come and passed.  That is why I told you all this.  By your standards I would be considered a genius.”  Ms Alford’s face turns to confusion and amazement as Marcus steps to his feet and reaches for his pocket.  Three loud blasts ignite from three separate areas.  The first two go off in unison while the third lags thirty seconds later.  Ms Alford jumps from her chair only to see Marcus with a 38 pistol in his hands.  “Whoa, wait how did they find me?”

The last and final blast sounds off as if they were synchronized.  The office is empty as Ms Alford’s body lays motionless.  Marcus puts his gloves and hood on then climbs through the window.  The fire department and police surround the parking lot looking for the cause of the disturbance.

The blast caused so much confusion that all the faculty jumped up from their seats to guide children to the parking lot.  It was far too late for them to realize that Ms. Alford was really Ms. Kolwalski.  The contract has been fulfilled.


2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Man I love th artwork you use on the blog. Story was great too. Banksy throws up some cool ass controversial stuff even though he uses stencils his message is kind of cool

Comment by imaG

Yea I like his and a some crews in Brazil and Australia.

Comment by venglish157

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