Good People

in #fiction7 years ago (edited)

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I sat in the back seat my stomach queasy as I watched this man sitting up in the front seat next to my father pick his nose and wipe it on his pants. I’ve seen my father pick his ears with his keys and wipe it on his pants, but this was way more disgusting. He’s so gross. My father knows him I’ve seen him around a couple of times when his mother had her little café open down the dirt road from where we lived . It was a rural area they’d have barbecues and sometime my father would bring home a plate it was really good barbecue. During the summer we’d walk down the dirt road to the café and get chips, candy and pop.

When we got to town and dropped him off, I was like "ooh gross! Why did you pick him up?! Did you see him pick his nose and wipe the buggers on his pants? " My daddy laughed “ Well he didn’t wipe it on the seat.” Thank God for that I thought I would have vomited for sure. “Besides” he continued “ you know him, he’s good people.” No I didn’t know him, and neither did my father apparently. I mean I’ve seen him around and I know what he looks like. “He’s your friend,not mine.” I told my father. “He’s good people” my father replied.

Two months ago that man was arrested for killing his mother and hiding her body in the basement.