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Strap It On...No Matter What
Seventeen-year-old Ellen Barns came from a house from hell. Her mother was on drugs and was a crackhead hooker from the mean streets of St. Paul, Minnesota. Ellen had one person she could trust and that was her best friend, Cherry. Ellen was a very pretty young girl. She was tall for her age with really green eyes and long, goldish hair. Ellen was half black; her mom was white and her dad was black.
Ellen’s mom’s name was Toy. She used to be one of St. Paul’s finest hookers who had it all at one time. She let the crack bring her all the way down. She was a short woman with long, dirty-goldish hair that hung down to her butt. Ellen knew all about her mom’s drug use but she loved her mom anyway. She wanted to stay young forever, but her young life would be over real soon. She had to start growing up real fast.
It all started on one hot summer day when she came home from swimming with her friends. “Ellen, where are you? Come here, girl.”
“Here I come, Moma.” She ran in her mom’s room.
Her mom had a crack pipe in her hand. She said, “Ellen, Richey is staying with us, so I just thought I would let you know.”
Richey was a real crackhead. He looked like an old, burned-out pimp from way back. He still dressed in the same clothes he had from the old days. He had a half of a perm slicked back, his right front tooth was missing, and he had on some dirty blue jeans with some black dress shoes. They all sat on the bed. Toy fired up her crack pipe.
Ellen’s mom’s name was Toy. She used to be one of St. Paul’s finest hookers who had it all at one time. She let the crack bring her all the way down. She was a short woman with long, dirty-goldish hair that hung down to her butt. Ellen knew all about her mom’s drug use but she loved her mom anyway. She wanted to stay young forever, but her young life would be over real soon. She had to start growing up real fast.
It all started on one hot summer day when she came home from swimming with her friends. “Ellen, where are you? Come here, girl.”
“Here I come, Moma.” She ran in her mom’s room.
Her mom had a crack pipe in her hand. She said, “Ellen, Richey is staying with us, so I just thought I would let you know.”
Richey was a real crackhead. He looked like an old, burned-out pimp from way back. He still dressed in the same clothes he had from the old days. He had a half of a perm slicked back, his right front tooth was missing, and he had on some dirty blue jeans with some black dress shoes. They all sat on the bed. Toy fired up her crack pipe.
167 pages, Kindle Edition
Published December 30, 2015
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