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En Amarillo Part I

Just a small warning, this story contains plenty of violence and racism.

Joshua reached out and crushed the life out of the roach crawling along the windowsill, listening to the way the crunching sound rang so clear and loudly to his chemically boosted senses. He examined the white and black entrails on his fingers, the way the ichor didn’t run down his hands like blood should. Finally wiping his hand off on his jeans, he became aware that someone was talking to him. One of his favorite side effects of the meth was his ability to focus so intensely on what he wanted to focus on when he wanted to, drowning out the unpleasant side effects of life. Joshua didn’t look immediately at the source of noise, he knew who it was and what it was about. Instead, he let his eyes linger on the smoke coming from his cigarette and how dull the cherry looked through the washed out lights of their trailer home.

“I said you’re fucking disgusting Josh” Josh’s sister, Aster was glaring at him, hands on her narrow hips.

“What is?”

“You are, you just wiped that bug on your pants and you’re smoking inside, it’s gross.” If she wasn’t family, he would have backhanded her, it wasn’t her place to tell him what to do or when to do it. Aster didn’t approve of much, she didn’t approve of smoking, she got pissed when Mom popped her pills, and when dad was gone day in and day out trying to earn enough to pay for this place. She disapproved of his affiliation with the Desert Rats, hell she disapproved of anything that was necessary. Joshua understood better than she did how necessary it was to find some way to escape the situation that caused their parents to constantly be absent, physically or otherwise. To Josh, it was a war out there, he knew that given a chance the whites of America would be wiped out in a sea of brown and black, that backed by Jewish money, the cartels would take his sister into a harem and have the rest of them killed. What he did, he firmly believed he did for the family, and especially for Aster. She was too young to really understand how the world worked, only eight years old and trying to tell him what to do.

“Shut it, Mouse.” he spat back, as much as he loved her, he only had so much patience. He stood tossing his cigarette out of the cracked window, narrowly missing the torn screen, torn when someone had tried to break in, thinking Aster was alone. There was still the dried blood from when he had shot the man’s groping arm. It no longer brought in as many flies as before, but it wasn’t like there was a shortage of the pests, crawling, flying and burrowing through their home and furniture.

Josh moved through the small trailer, dodging the debris and roaches on the floor as he moved. As much as Aster tried to clean the place, he knew the place was only temporary, once he could get in good with higher-ups he would be able to afford a better place, and get them all out this hell hole, maybe out of Fontina completely. He had a plan to do it too, he would be able to take control of his destiny tonight. Josh knew that his strategic capability was far superior to most of his fellow gang members. Tonight he would take the fight to the spics, prove that he was more than just some dumb foot soldier, but had the makings of a general.

Sticking his head in his parent’s room he watched his mother for a moment, making sure that her chest was rising and falling, she would probably get up later, do her nightly search for a liquor bottle that she, or Josh, hadn’t finished off. She might even have Aster walk her to the corner store to pick up a new bottle if Dad had been paid this week. The exercise would do her good. Their dad’s work was just another example in Josh’s mind of the war on white people in this country. He had been a successful Quality Assurance Manager in Aerospace before affirmative action had taken a swing and knocked him out of his position to give it to someone who hadn’t worked as hard to get there.

“Aster, you need to help Mom tonight.” It didn’t need to be said, that was always Aster’s job, but giving the order definitely made Josh feel better about it, he was managing the house while Dad was at work. He ducked into his room and changed into better clothes, grabbing his stash and gun before heading out for the night.

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