politicians
gather?"
"Yep."
A
car honked at us.
"Come
on," I said, "before we get creamed."
We
hurried across then walked down the sidewalk to Ramon's tattoo shop where we
found Floyd T. painting and Rex sleeping. The big dog perked up when we
arrived.
"Hey,
Floyd T."
"Whaddaya
say, Max?"
"This
is Norbert. He just moved in next door to us."
"Nice
to meet you, Norbert."
I
turned to Norbert. "Floyd T. was a war hero. He's got a fake leg."
Floyd
T. reached down and rapped his left leg with his knuckles.
"Plastic,"
he said. "Say hello, Rex."
Rex
barked. I petted him, but he sniffed Norbert and backed away, which was odd
for Rex.
"Sorry,
Norbert," Floyd T. said. "Never seen him act that way before."
"It
is me. I am uncomfortable around your animals. He must sense that."
Floyd
T. put his brush on the paint can and said, "Bathroom break," then went
inside Ramon's tattoo parlor.
"Why
does he smell so badly?" Norbert asked.
"Oh,
Floyd T.'s homeless."
"He
has no home?"
"Nope."
"Where
does he sleep?"
"Right
here, on Ramon's stoop."
"Why?"
"Because
we lost his war."
"Ah."
"You
want to see Ramon tattooing someone? Come on in, but don't touch anything,
especially the blood. Mom said you can get a bad disease in tattoo parlors.
Hippopotamus C."
"That
sounds bad."
We
went inside the tattoo shop just as Floyd T. walked out. Latino music played
in the background. Ramon was inking in a big tattoo of a black spider on the
broad back of a fat man who was bleeding like someone had walked on his back
with Dad's golf shoes, the old ones with the metal spikes. Ramon was blotting
blood with a towel. I introduced Norbert to Ramon.
"Does
that procedure inflict pain?" Norbert asked.
The
fat man chuckled. "Dang right it does. But it makes me look pretty,
don't you think?"
"No,
I do not think so."
The
fat man chuckled. He was good about being insulted by a kid.
"But
it is artistic."
"Thanks,
dude," Ramon said.
The
parlor smelled like the doctor's office when I got my flu shot a few weeks
ago. I hated that smell ⦠and needles even more. All that blood made my
face feel hot and my armpits tingle, so we said goodbye and went outside.
"That
fat man must also be homeless," Norbert said.
"Why?"
"Because
he smelled worse than Floyd T."
We
strolled down the sidewalk past the other shops on that block. Norbert liked
the painted faces on the outside wall of Lucy in Disguise with Diamonds. All
the stores were open on Sunday. Mom said there used to be laws against that
sort of thing, but now Sunday was just another shopping day, like Thanksgiving
and the Fourth of July. Norbert stopped and stared at everyone we passed as if
they were the most fascinating creatures he'd ever seen.
"Why
does everyone here paint their bodies?"
"
'Cause this is the weird part of Austin."
We
crossed Elizabeth Street and walked past Güero's and down to Kid Genius, my
favorite store. Not that I was a genius or anything, but they had neat stuff
for non-geniuses, too.
"I
grew up on this stuff," I said.
They
had toys, scooters, books, games, Legos, and other cool stuff that was supposed
to make kids smart. We walked over to the check-out counter where Brian was
manning the cash register and hunched over a Sudoku puzzle in a book. He was a
geeky college kid with wild hair and black glasses. He was tapping a pencil
against his head and frowning.
"Hi,
Brian."
His
head came up. "Maxâwhazzup, dude?"
He
gave me a fist-bump, but Norbert turned his eyes to the ceiling.
"Nothing
is up," he said.
"That's
just an expression," I said.
"And
what does it mean?"
"Just
a way of saying hello."
Norbert
smiled. "I like that. 'What is up?' "
"No.
It's like, 'whazzup?' You run the words together."
"Whazzup,
dude?"
"Nothing
much," Brian said.
"This
is Norbert. He just moved here from Los Angeles."
He
held his fist out to Norbert, who hesitated then executed a timid fist-bump.
"Man,
I wanna move to L.A., get into movies," Brian said.
He
had about
gather?"
"Yep."
A
car honked at us.
"Come
on," I said, "before we get creamed."
We
hurried across then walked down the sidewalk to Ramon's tattoo shop where we
found Floyd T. painting and Rex sleeping. The big dog perked up when we
arrived.
"Hey,
Floyd T."
"Whaddaya
say, Max?"
"This
is Norbert. He just moved in next door to us."
"Nice
to meet you, Norbert."
I
turned to Norbert. "Floyd T. was a war hero. He's got a fake leg."
Floyd
T. reached down and rapped his left leg with his knuckles.
"Plastic,"
he said. "Say hello, Rex."
Rex
barked. I petted him, but he sniffed Norbert and backed away, which was odd
for Rex.
"Sorry,
Norbert," Floyd T. said. "Never seen him act that way before."
"It
is me. I am uncomfortable around your animals. He must sense that."
Floyd
T. put his brush on the paint can and said, "Bathroom break," then went
inside Ramon's tattoo parlor.
"Why
does he smell so badly?" Norbert asked.
"Oh,
Floyd T.'s homeless."
"He
has no home?"
"Nope."
"Where
does he sleep?"
"Right
here, on Ramon's stoop."
"Why?"
"Because
we lost his war."
"Ah."
"You
want to see Ramon tattooing someone? Come on in, but don't touch anything,
especially the blood. Mom said you can get a bad disease in tattoo parlors.
Hippopotamus C."
"That
sounds bad."
We
went inside the tattoo shop just as Floyd T. walked out. Latino music played
in the background. Ramon was inking in a big tattoo of a black spider on the
broad back of a fat man who was bleeding like someone had walked on his back
with Dad's golf shoes, the old ones with the metal spikes. Ramon was blotting
blood with a towel. I introduced Norbert to Ramon.
"Does
that procedure inflict pain?" Norbert asked.
The
fat man chuckled. "Dang right it does. But it makes me look pretty,
don't you think?"
"No,
I do not think so."
The
fat man chuckled. He was good about being insulted by a kid.
"But
it is artistic."
"Thanks,
dude," Ramon said.
The
parlor smelled like the doctor's office when I got my flu shot a few weeks
ago. I hated that smell ⦠and needles even more. All that blood made my
face feel hot and my armpits tingle, so we said goodbye and went outside.
"That
fat man must also be homeless," Norbert said.
"Why?"
"Because
he smelled worse than Floyd T."
We
strolled down the sidewalk past the other shops on that block. Norbert liked
the painted faces on the outside wall of Lucy in Disguise with Diamonds. All
the stores were open on Sunday. Mom said there used to be laws against that
sort of thing, but now Sunday was just another shopping day, like Thanksgiving
and the Fourth of July. Norbert stopped and stared at everyone we passed as if
they were the most fascinating creatures he'd ever seen.
"Why
does everyone here paint their bodies?"
"
'Cause this is the weird part of Austin."
We
crossed Elizabeth Street and walked past Güero's and down to Kid Genius, my
favorite store. Not that I was a genius or anything, but they had neat stuff
for non-geniuses, too.
"I
grew up on this stuff," I said.
They
had toys, scooters, books, games, Legos, and other cool stuff that was supposed
to make kids smart. We walked over to the check-out counter where Brian was
manning the cash register and hunched over a Sudoku puzzle in a book. He was a
geeky college kid with wild hair and black glasses. He was tapping a pencil
against his head and frowning.
"Hi,
Brian."
His
head came up. "Maxâwhazzup, dude?"
He
gave me a fist-bump, but Norbert turned his eyes to the ceiling.
"Nothing
is up," he said.
"That's
just an expression," I said.
"And
what does it mean?"
"Just
a way of saying hello."
Norbert
smiled. "I like that. 'What is up?' "
"No.
It's like, 'whazzup?' You run the words together."
"Whazzup,
dude?"
"Nothing
much," Brian said.
"This
is Norbert. He just moved here from Los Angeles."
He
held his fist out to Norbert, who hesitated then executed a timid fist-bump.
"Man,
I wanna move to L.A., get into movies," Brian said.
He
had about
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