Stupid Questions


I see something that I’ve never seen before. I bend down in the middle of the street as cars, attempting to avoid the bumper to bumper orgy on Western Avenue take a hard right down La Mirada Ave., and speed past behind me—their hot exhaust fumes graze my back. I’m invincible holding this camera.

Me: Is it loaded?

William (watching a movie): Boy, you ask some stupid questions.

I move my camera and crouch lower. My right knee cracks, and then the shutter as a Beamer lays on its horn and keeps going.

William: I got an M-16 too, but that’s buried in the back.

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