The Bunge

Here is a short non-fiction story I wrote reflecting on one of the fix-it projects that are part of the work the People of Praise in Allendale, Louisiana.

By TJ Ryan

If you follow I-49 at night, you will wind around the bright lights provided by the riverboat casinos, which makes up most of Shreveport Louisiana. But as you continue, the lights abruptly end. As the side streets begin, you see the neighborhood commonly known as Allendale. You see small hair salons with names like, “Sassy Sistaz,” small B-B-Que joints with great deals on forties, or the local check cashing banks.
Then turning on Yale St. you’ll see small houses all built next to each other stretching back into the darkness. They call them shotguns because you could shot a gun through the front door and the bullet would go out the back without hitting anything but a couple doors. Some will be boarded up, some occupied, which will be apparent by the car sitting outside the house most likely worth more than the shaky box behind it. You’ll see tagless dogs are fighting over the chicken bones in plastic garbage cans.
After you pass Gary St., pull over on the side of the crumbled asphalt and you’ll have reached the house Bo-Bo lives in. Look for the broken bike that almost becomes one with the earth and a car that once worked. You’ll see a few scattered Keystone Ice 24 oz. cans along the grown over walkway. As you reach the broken screen door, you’ll see an extension cord coming under it slithering across the road to the neighboring house, and a broken stereo sitting on a folding chair. Knock on the side of the house or just yell in. There is no screen doorknob or door behind it for that matter, so peek your head in and then walk in. Bo-Bo will notice you’ve arrived sooner or later.
Walking in you’ll see a dark living room and you’ll feel a weak floor below you. The windows are covered with bed sheets. The dimensions of the house could throw you off, they don’t all make 90° angles like your place does. You’ll see a few fans right as you walk in. A broken one and its replacement in front of it. You’ll notice it isn’t on, because the one power cord extending from the next door neighbors ran into a different room. You’ll see a blurry reflection, and no that’s not Bo-Bo, it’s a mirror that takes up most of the wall. You’ll know were to walk because there will be things scattered everywhere in the great room except the nicely carved pave leading to the kitchen. It is midway through the room where your third sense will be enacted and the distinct smell of four years ago will set in.
You’ll know you’re in the kitchen when you see the broken laundry machine in the middle of a room. Your eye will then be drawn to the once white cabinets. There is clear evidence as to where people touched things the most over time. Brown circles highlight the bottoms of the cabinet doors opposite the hinges. Look just below them and your see the stack: bowls, plates, forks, spoons all from meals dating back as far as last month. A few will overflow onto the laundry machine.
If Bo-Bo hasn’t come out yet, trace backwards and take a right from the entrance. Once you see the room with light flickering you’ll hear daytime TV. Even though its more then 90° inside and outside the house, the one power outlet gets the privilege of entertaining over cooling.
Now, it’s time you’ll met Bo-Bo. He won’t say much. You’ll find it hard to look him in the eye, but you’ll see that he looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep, but he has. He most likely won’t dress up for the occasion; after all you’ll only be helping with the kitchen ceiling. Sweatpants and a white T are a good bet, you can’t miss him.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 29th, 2007 at 6:56 pm and is filed under misc.. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.