Marcel Marquez Monologue
“OPEN this damned door! If you don’t open this door right now I’ll knock it to hell and you along with it you little lying, cheating, bastard!”
The flimsy door bowed, the windows rattled, and the whole wall shook as Miguel and his 265 pounds of fury slammed into the door for the third time. Neither I nor the flimsy mobile home door would be able to hold up to much more of this pounding. I could see the top two hinges already tearing away and coming in past the door frame. “Listen to me “Z” I didn’t do…” “Don’t call me that you miserable piece of crap. My friends get to call me that, and you ain’t my friend! Now open this frigging door or I swear you won’t live to see another day.”
Here I am trying to think of how get this six foot seven, angry mass of muscle with homicidal intentions from getting to me …show more content…
After being pushed, shoved, and slapped on the head after school that day I learned that if I wanted to survive here I needed to make Miguel Marquez my ally.
The nickname “Z” stuck to him from then on and he stood proud when referred to as “Z”. I was allowed to call him “Z” because I helped him with his homework and didn’t object when he referred to me as “little shit Rios”.
Well, so much for the great memories. Now I have to figure out where to go. I can’t go to my parent’s house. Mom would have her endless questions and would start in again about my choice of friends. Grandma, Nana Estrella, now living in my old room, could be counted on to rattle off comments about how inconsiderate and burdensome I turned out to be; unlike her sainted-son, my father. It’s wasn’t real hard to figure out my choices since most of my relatives are still living in Benson and “Z” knows everyone else that might try to help me. So, I guess I’ll go to Tia Juana’s, one of only two people that still scare the crap out of
The flimsy door bowed, the windows rattled, and the whole wall shook as Miguel and his 265 pounds of fury slammed into the door for the third time. Neither I nor the flimsy mobile home door would be able to hold up to much more of this pounding. I could see the top two hinges already tearing away and coming in past the door frame. “Listen to me “Z” I didn’t do…” “Don’t call me that you miserable piece of crap. My friends get to call me that, and you ain’t my friend! Now open this frigging door or I swear you won’t live to see another day.”
Here I am trying to think of how get this six foot seven, angry mass of muscle with homicidal intentions from getting to me …show more content…
After being pushed, shoved, and slapped on the head after school that day I learned that if I wanted to survive here I needed to make Miguel Marquez my ally.
The nickname “Z” stuck to him from then on and he stood proud when referred to as “Z”. I was allowed to call him “Z” because I helped him with his homework and didn’t object when he referred to me as “little shit Rios”.
Well, so much for the great memories. Now I have to figure out where to go. I can’t go to my parent’s house. Mom would have her endless questions and would start in again about my choice of friends. Grandma, Nana Estrella, now living in my old room, could be counted on to rattle off comments about how inconsiderate and burdensome I turned out to be; unlike her sainted-son, my father. It’s wasn’t real hard to figure out my choices since most of my relatives are still living in Benson and “Z” knows everyone else that might try to help me. So, I guess I’ll go to Tia Juana’s, one of only two people that still scare the crap out of