DRUG COMMERCIAL
by Arjona Andoni

It was a warm summer afternoon. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the air was filled with sweet fragrances. The sun glistened through his thick brown hair. His dark, eyes, big as saucers, sparkled to match the look of delight on his face. He was playing with his bike.

He was probably thinking of his birthday at that moment, and how badly he wanted that game boy. He drove everyone crazy about it, reminding everyone that his special day was coming up. No one really minded though, he was a sweet kid.

I would remember that day for the rest of my life.

For that was the day that he died.

The driver of the car that hit him had been under the influence of marijuana. He thought it was cool to get high. The driver, like all boys his age, never thought of the consequences. He could never begin to imagine the pain he could cause. The pain he would cause. All of his friends did it so he did too. Even when his mom caught him, and he promised to stop, he didn’t. He thought his mother knew nothing. He was almost al grown up, and a man. He could make his own decisions. After all what could happen? It was his life, and he was only affecting himself.

What he didn’t know was that he would end up killing his own little brother. Yes, my little brother was killed by a driver under the influence of marijuana, and the driver was me.

Sitting out front
Writing my days away
Letting the warm sun
Spread a tan across my bare arms
I’m part of the scenery I watch
People and cars pass by me as if I ‘m not there
The occasional hello
From the man dress all in black wearing silver sunglasses
Or a Texan looking for directions to the local bar
No one else notices me here though
Its part of their Sunday afternoon
To see me,
On the steps
Writing my life away
I ignore the eyes that do look in my direction.
My only care is to write
If only this could be what every day was like.

The band begins to play
As the wind waltzes with the American Flag
Cars street race for parking spaces
Sunbathers litter the beach
Mountains of dropped ice cream melt
As rats with wings madly peck forgotten French fries
The red sun slowly fuses with the horizon
The waves in unison gently kiss the shoe
Then slowly make their way home.

“Amanda! Shane! Come on or we’re going to be late!” my mother shouted from the bottom of the staircase.

“Late for what?” my brother Shane shouted back.

“To Aunt Louise’s house! Now hurry up and get ready!”

I put the pillow over my head in response to my mother’s yelling. I didn’t want to go to Aunt Louise’s house. Not now. Not ever. It’s bad enough that we have to go to her house every Christmas, but on a regular Saturday -No way!

My Aunt Louise is my father’s only sister. She’s 6 foot 3, weighs 279 pounds, and has dark black, greasy hair down to her ankles. She loves to smile, but the sight of her pink gums sticking out and her yellow, chipped, and out of place teeth makes me gag. She also has a high pitch voice that sounds like both a monkey and a sick dolphin. She’s been single for twenty years and she’s only 46.

My aunt’s house is the smallest house on the block and she lives on the street of mansions and museums. Her house is a mix of a light blue and a light, bright yellow. (I don’t even know what color that makes.) She doesn’t have a large backyard and what she does have is covered with dead tree branches and leaves. The inside of the house smells like five weeks worth of trash and dead birds. I recently noticed that it smells like cat food. (She doesn’t even have a cat.)

Shane didn’t want to go over Aunt Louise’s house either. We both walked to the car like we were on death row.

Aunt Louise lives only ten miles from our house. When we reached her house she was standing outside waving furiously. No one could miss her. As we parked the car she ran towards the car, and gave my mother a giant hug even before she could set foot out of the car.

“I love you too,” my mother said gasping for air.

“Come on in! I just made a hot pot of cabbage.”

“Yum,” Shane said under his breath. I felt the same way.

Shane and I ate the hot, slimy cabbage with dread. It was absolutely disgusting! Shane and I kept on a straight face all through the meal though. When the dinner was over Shane and I went in the parlor and watched “Sorority Life” on MTV. I liked the concept of the show, and Shane likes the girls on the show.

“You guys, its time for dessert!” my mother yelled from the kitchen.

“I can’t take any more of Aunt Louise’s cooking,” Shane said.

“Hold my hand,” I cried. We slowly made our way to the kitchen. I still had the taste of cabbage in my mouth. As we were watching TV I tried to think of ways to get out of eating dessert. I could say that I was full, that I had a really bad stomach, or that I didn’t want to eat the cake because I loved it too much and

I wanted to share it with everyone. Though I realized that those excuses wouldn’t work because my mother would test me on it until I cracked. I kept on thinking of the other desserts Aunt Louise made: apple pie with prune juice inside, carrot cake with carrot chunks sticking out of it, and a burned chocolate cake.

When we walked inside the kitchen we saw everyone smiling. I looked across the table and then finally looked at what was on the table. To my delight there was a large chocolate cake with the name Mike’s Pastry: North End listed on the box.

“There is a God,” my brother whispered.

“Amen,” I whispered back.

The chocolate cake was delicious! On the top of the chocolate cake were Oreo crumbs and whipped cream made from heaven, silk chocolate inside and outside of the cake, and vanilla cream in the middle. Everyone had two slices and there was no cake left. My father was licking the crumbs desperately. It was ten o’clock before we knew it.

As we were leaving a tear ran down my aunt’s cheek. My mother told her that we would be back soon. If she had that chocolate cake again I wouldn’t hesitate too much to go over her house.