Angelenos
BRAKES SQUEAKING
I buy an 87 Volvo and reluctantly sign up for mandatory liability insurance with the Automobile Club of Southern California. Couple weeks later, a sheet of perforated proof of insurance cards appears in my mailbox. Listed on the back is the protocol to follow in the event of a collision: 1. Never admit fault under any circumstances.
HIGH HEELS ON CONCRETE
Is your dog friendly? barks a permatanned woman with a squirming Chihuahua in one hand, waving a stun baton in the other, ELECTROCUTE day-glo-painted down the side. Would you be friendly if someone had a weapon up in your face? I growl, too familiar with her question. No Zorro, No! she commands the Chihuahua. My dogs head bobbles in synch with the baton, ready to fetch. Ima shock your dog if you don't put it on a leash, she threatens.
Bitch -- are you for real?
As real as y'motherfuckin' Pit Bull.
LEAF BLOWER
Landscaping is included in my rent. Each week, Jose arrives in a pickup truck with just the YO of TOYOTA on the tailgate. He pretends to blow leaves and water the plants that have survived the desert sun. A ten minute show which almost always ends with Jose telling his usual sexual joke and driving away laughing his ass off. On Christmas Eve, I break routine by handing him a bottle of champagne on his way out. Thanks mang! The wife and I will celebrate the new house we bought!
ICE CREAM TRUCK CHIME
Days before the new year I get an email. Would I be interested in working on a low-budget yet high-profile gig? Why not, I say (I could use the cash) but no more than eight hours daily. You rock, they reply. My first shift starts smoothly. I make friends with Hazel, who orders food for everyone so that we don't need to leave our stations, and Junior, the janitor, who cleans up after us for the same reason. Sharon, the project manager, is only interested in hourly reports of my progress, not small talk. She seems vaguely pleased but nervous. At six o'clock I throw on my hoodie and head for the door. Whoa, dude, quittin' time already? yells Eric, the AD. Eight hours, remember?Yeah, I know, but c'mon, dont bail on the team like that, the rest of us have been pulling twelve, thirteen. Hazel rolls her eyes. Look, Eric, if you're unhappy with the quality of my work, maybe you should find somebody else. I'm going home. I have a dog to feed. The following day, all is forgotten until I go to clock out. What about the deadline, dude? Eric presses. I'll give you overtime if you give me paper, I illustrate, rubbing my thumb against my index finger. Ah, okay, I see how you roll. But if you rock, you'd stay.
BIRDS CHIRPING
Saturday morning, Michael, Puto and I set out to see Watts Towers, tall steel structures that took one Italian immigrant thirty-three years to build. With each Metro stop, the houses shift to a different shade of Slumlord Gray. Unsure if we missed our station, we step off at the next. Puto spots the towers in the distance and suggests we walk. Michaels eyes jump around and he insists on Metro. We exit at 103rd with a ways yet to go on foot. Police roll up. The faces of the officers say totally serious so either we've done something wrong or something wrong is about to be done to us. Where're you boys from? asks the officer at the wheel. Echo Park, says Puto.
Do you know where you are?
Watts.
What're you doing here?
Checking out the towers.
Y'know this is a very dangerous area, don't you? Let's just say people like you don't come here.
People like us?
We'll escort you. Ten minutes, then be on your way.
MEAT SIZZLING
Tuesday past midnight, after eating a burrito, I stop by The Home Depot to pick up the low-flow military showerhead I've been meaning to replace, and maybe the orange-aproned homie grinning at me in aisle three. I try to refine a half-way DIY-sounding pick-up line. Like, They use these in the Navy. Saves water. Or, Have you tried it yet? It's brutal. But he makes the first move, puts an arm around me and whispers from the corner of his mouth, Y'know you got a lil' something on your chin. I wouldn't want you to roll up on a female and she's all, What's that on your chin?
HELICOPTER BLADE SLAP
Jake (Gyllenhaal) at Inaka; Keanu (Reeves) at Gingergrass; Keifer (Sutherland,) Christina (Ricci) and James (Avery) at Gelson's; Queen Latifah in the men's department at American Rag; Chris (Rock) at The Grove; Joseph (Gordon-Levitt) at Nuart; Drew (Barrymore) nearly sideswiping me on Alvarado; Ben (Garant,) Crispin (Glover,) Mena (Suvari) and Margaret (Cho) at Whole Foods; Giovanni (Ribisi) at Figaro; Beck (Hansen) at his birthday party at The Scene; Eugene (Levy) at Fred Segal; Dustin (Hoffman) at Bruin; Lisa Marie (Presley) at a Griffith Park wedding; Jessica (Biel,) Gina (Davis) and Justina (Machado) at Arclight; Mos Def at Stussy; John (C. Reilley) and Max (Perlich) at Cafe Tropical; Drew (Barrymore) again at Fred 62; Christina (Ricci) again with Adam (Goldberg) house-hunting on Lucretia; Terry (Richardson) helping friends move out on Lucretia; Randy (Jackson) at Erewon; Dr. Phil at El Adobe; Udo (Kier) at Akbar; Kelly (Osbourne) at Nike; Sandy (Martin) and Alison (Folland) at Elysian Park; Scott (Speedman) and Molly (Parker) at Chango; Thomas (Lennon) biking on Fountain; John (Robinson) walking on Fairfax; and Bridget (Marquardt) every week in my Spanish class at the Beverly Hills Lingual Institute.
EIGHTIES MUSIC
When I have a house with a pool, then I'll know I'm successful, Puto jokes from the front steps of a Bel-Air house party. We sort of debate our sobriety. I win not because I'm less intoxicated, but better at parallel parking. I follow the signs for Sunset Boulevard with the lazy logic that it's the surest route back. A few miles on, the street names are sounding more west than east. I pull over and Puto googles the driving directions on his cell. We're guided to an intersection with the sketchy option of merging onto the Pacific Coast Highway or oncoming traffic. Get on the PCH! orders Puto, What're you waiting for?! Turn left! I've got seconds to reason if a left will be the end of us. The light turns green, I turn right and Puto gives up as my wingman. I beg him to find the map I printed to get to the party. He ignores me. At least give me the Thomas Guide! I snap. He throws it out the window. With a little guesswork I hit the interstate anyway -- Ha! We hold our tongues for what seems like hours but more like twenty minutes. I deliberately pass our exit to set off a war of words for whats left of the way home. We park. And fight till we fuck.
DENTISTS DRILL
I go to a holistic dentist who, within minutes after my smile evaluation, estimates four grand to replace my metal fillings with porcelain, schedules an appointment, then passes me off to the hygienist who informs me my lips look dry, offers some Vaseline, cleans half of my teeth and pours me a cup of Listerine. The doctor will be right with you, she recites. I get up with my bib still on and walk out. My Volvo squeals down the five-level parking ramp -- 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 -- I'm heading right for a low-slung Mercedes stopped at the pay booth! ... I hit the brakes ... I'm thrown against the dash ... the Mercedes door cracks open ... Its not my fault, I say.
Yvan Martinez & Joshua Trees. Originally published in 75B LAX, Veenman Publishers. Appeared also in Revista Ronda, Issue 8, and Books from the Future.