Keep'n It Real

Seventeen foot long, convertible '73 Cadillac, an off white coat with red string details on both sides curling up at the end, a gas-guzzling beast of an engine roars at fifteen miles an hour. Two vibrating faded cheetah skin seats covers and shaggy maroon carpet with brown swirls. All the metal inside is gold chromed and on the end of the gear stick sits a shiny, glass diamond. The icing in the cake the antenna-pink and shaped like a flamingo.

Tyler Huff

I approached him slowly until he saw me coming, upon which I walked towards him at a regular pace. He said, "Yes?" I replied "Do I have to go to the demonstration this weekend?" He looked into my eyes as his eyebrows V'ed. Slowly he walked up to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. Ever so powerfully he gently squeezed the muscle below my neck. Then he asked me, "Do you want to go?" My face said no before I did, which resulted in a squeezing pain above my shoulder that made me squeal, "Yes!" The pain stopped, he smiled and padded me on the back. He said, "Good," and walked into his office.

Tyler Huff

"Where are you?"

"Well ..."

Two teenage boys, not from Coronado, thought they would make a couple extra bucks one summer. Now, being the young adults they considered themselves to be they decided to be smart about their lucrative ways. Their plan consisted of going to Mexico, obtain a willing Mexican with deep pocket's, and bring him to the States. Near before the sweaty palms at the border they asked there soon to be immigrant friend if he spoke English. He replied, "Yes." They asked him if he had a fake ID. He said, "Yes." Finally they asked him if he was ready to go. He responded with a grin and "Yes." The gray truck pulled up next to the border patrol officer. He shinned his light in and asked the Mexican lad "Where do you live?" He replied, "Yes."

Tyler Huff

Imagine if you will a fourteen hour flight, Japan to United States. Now picture yourself in the back row of a massive international jetliner. Feel a burning in your eyes and a constant, full skull-headache. Due to the blanket of smoke that has engulfed you. I'm not talking about the kind of smoke one encounters from someone smoking at a coffee house with their legs crossed holding the cigarette between the ring finger and pinkie. Nor do I write of the damp haze smoke one would come across at a three in the morning bar party. I am telling you of an inescapable cloud all over your body down your shirt, in your lungs, all over your skin choking your ever breath. But, that's OK, there's only 12 hours and 26 minutes to go.

Tyler Huff