I had already gulped down my horchata by the time she handed me my change. I took my seat and began the wait for what could be called the skateboarders staple, a bean, rice and cheese burrito. Besides, I love the vending machines in this joint. They sell cool stickers with pictures of homies lifting weights and slinging ink and stuff. It seemed like forever until she called my number. I got my grub and went back to my little corner, hoping to have an uneventful lunch all by myself when some commotion across the street piqued my interest.
Isolated beads of sweat were forming on Timmy’s brow as usual. The dream had just begun. The long corridors leading into that eerie room seemed all too familiar. He managed to make it to the door. His fingers clenched the handle as he hesitated briefly. He knew and feared what he was about to embark upon, yet the possibility remained: might it be different this time? Unsure, Timmy entered the room.
The tired custodian emptied the trash and locked up, departing to Al’s Liquor via bicycle for his standard three quarts of Schlitz Ice. He pedaled off, not knowing the bank he had just cleaned so meticulously was about to be visited by yet another customer. He didn’t even crack the first quart before the commotion began.
A few seconds later, this unusual sound was followed by another one, different, yet equally foreign and intriguing.
The aural combinations would be juggled and repeated for hours into the night. The smooth, marble benches and red, painted curbs surrounding the monetary fortress have provided skateboarders with a challenging playground for years, ever since they replaced the ugly, dried-up grass that used to run the perimeter of the building.