Re-location

    Andrei held a dirty t-shirt, brandishing the various Looney Toon characters. He had received it when he was freshly 8 years old, shortly after he had been moved in with his Aunt and uncle. It was riddled with holes, fraying at each corner, and looked relatively depressing compared to the brightly colored collared shirts that made up a majority of his wardrobe. However, the shirt held better times than he had seen in years. He would play for hours with Boris wearing this shirt, completely unaware of the state his parents had sunken into back home. At one point in his, this shirt was the only one Andrei owned.

Picture from ChildrenoftheAndes

      "Hah, you and that shirt. I don't think it fits you anymore cousin, too much beer maybe?" Andrei packed the bag into his luggage, ignoring his cousins smart ass remark.
      "Maybe you worry a little bit less about my shirts, and more about your porno mags."

      When they arrived at the airport, Andrei lit up a ciggarrette as Boris struggled to pull his bag out of the taxi. Andrei laughed at his efforts, as the bag nearly crushed his cousin as it fell out of the trunk. A sharp whistle came from behind him, and Andrei immediately knew something was up. People are not friendly in Russia, so if someone is going out of their way to get your attention, it is almost never a good sign. He turned around to face exactly who he didn't want to see; Jeriko, one of the head junkies in the area. Andrei used to be a frequent customer of Jeriko's, until the thug decided 1,500 rubles were valued much more than his ongoing relationship with his clientele and was worth robbing.
       "Where you think you are going street boy? I thought I told you to stay home."
Andrei smiled. In a few days, he would be free from the sights of the disgusting junkies who inhabit his homeland.
       "I am going where you could never imagine, where people like you could never fit in. I am going where I can become someone, a person you could never be. Enjoy your life junkie scum." Andrei walked off, as Boris followed behind nervously, well aware of who the man was who his cousin was confronting.
    "You think because you leave Russia, you are no longer the son of a heroin whore? Go on Andrei, leave for America and become someone. Catch the "Jes Grew", chase the American dream, fuck the American women, do the American drugs. Just remember who was giving your mother the needle as her pathetic son wandered the streets like the dirty rag he was.
   Andrei stopped for a moment, still facing the airport and departure that lay ahead. He considered turning around and snapping the junkies neck, just to hear every bone pop ever so beautifully.
    "Ehh cousin, plane leaves soon... Perhaps we hurry up?"
Andrei turned to face his cousin, who's brow dripped profusely with sweat.
     "Yes, we go."

Corresponding blog: Platos Cave