Marquis Bey speaking on campus.
Flash Fiction by Marquis Bey
He said, ‘The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,’ when I went up to the counter to buy my drink—‘The blacker the man, the cheaper the boots,’ I thought when he said that—‘The more colored the flesh, the less crayons in the box,’ I thought again—‘no,’ I refuted, ‘the deeper the struggle, the harder to swallow. Now stick that in your juice box and suck it.
‘A juice box that carries in it the sweat of a country, the tears of a people, the saliva of a starving race. Find a straw that can pierce the plastic top and you'll unleash a burgeoned history that you'll imbibe with a flourish—still burgeoning. The juice has a murky hue, but it shines. Or is it dull? This juice that's so sweet, this juice that looks so sour, this juice that tastes so—gray.’
‘What you waitin’ for,’ he said, ‘you gave me the exact amount, no change for you.’ Where was I?
‘The composition of gray: one part this, one part that—equal. Bullshit. At least, that’s what I'm told. The taste is a constant reminder of how far and how close. It tastes like watermelon-flavored blandness and chicken flavored blandness and grape blandness and more gray. That’s half blandness. Or is it all bland? See this, this taste is bitter sweet, sweetly bitter 'cause nobody wanna admit that it ain't pure. It ain't as raw and gritty, as strong and well-blended as we preach—you preach—they preach. I'm drinking and drinking and I feel the same shit that I always felt. They said—we said—that if I drank, ooooh man if I drank all of it, that I’d be full. They said—we said—that I’d be whole. But I still feel it.’
‘What you waitin’ for, man?’
‘The emptiness. I drank it all and my bladder is still on ‘E’. They lied to me; my people lied to me. No, not my, those people lied. There's no us. Didn't they say 'us'? Didn't they say there's us and there's them? All this juice talk it's like this is a cult. Then everyone drinks the Kool-Aid, and everyone dies! Cult? I thought they were the ones wearing the white robes though. But it was big, man. BIG! I don't know what to think anymore. I think, I think, I—’
“Yo, you got a bathroom?”
Credit: http://www.flash-fiction-world.com/sippin-on-sin-and-juice.html
Author Bio: http://www.flash-fiction-world.com/MarquisbeY.html
He said, ‘The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,’ when I went up to the counter to buy my drink—‘The blacker the man, the cheaper the boots,’ I thought when he said that—‘The more colored the flesh, the less crayons in the box,’ I thought again—‘no,’ I refuted, ‘the deeper the struggle, the harder to swallow. Now stick that in your juice box and suck it.
‘A juice box that carries in it the sweat of a country, the tears of a people, the saliva of a starving race. Find a straw that can pierce the plastic top and you'll unleash a burgeoned history that you'll imbibe with a flourish—still burgeoning. The juice has a murky hue, but it shines. Or is it dull? This juice that's so sweet, this juice that looks so sour, this juice that tastes so—gray.’
‘What you waitin’ for,’ he said, ‘you gave me the exact amount, no change for you.’ Where was I?
‘The composition of gray: one part this, one part that—equal. Bullshit. At least, that’s what I'm told. The taste is a constant reminder of how far and how close. It tastes like watermelon-flavored blandness and chicken flavored blandness and grape blandness and more gray. That’s half blandness. Or is it all bland? See this, this taste is bitter sweet, sweetly bitter 'cause nobody wanna admit that it ain't pure. It ain't as raw and gritty, as strong and well-blended as we preach—you preach—they preach. I'm drinking and drinking and I feel the same shit that I always felt. They said—we said—that if I drank, ooooh man if I drank all of it, that I’d be full. They said—we said—that I’d be whole. But I still feel it.’
‘What you waitin’ for, man?’
‘The emptiness. I drank it all and my bladder is still on ‘E’. They lied to me; my people lied to me. No, not my, those people lied. There's no us. Didn't they say 'us'? Didn't they say there's us and there's them? All this juice talk it's like this is a cult. Then everyone drinks the Kool-Aid, and everyone dies! Cult? I thought they were the ones wearing the white robes though. But it was big, man. BIG! I don't know what to think anymore. I think, I think, I—’
“Yo, you got a bathroom?”
Credit: http://www.flash-fiction-world.com/sippin-on-sin-and-juice.html
Author Bio: http://www.flash-fiction-world.com/MarquisbeY.html
RSS Feed