A flaring dragon with a pair of oversized wings, flapping in the mid-air ferociously, created deadly turbulences. Tree leaves, squirrels and hummingbirds were swirled into an eddy of dust. The dragon roared and discharged fire against my castle. I screamed “Stop” and hurled myriads of thumb-sized pebbles at his ridiculous undersized tail. He flung me a scornful look but continued the evil act. My castle burnt in flames and turned into ashes. I was aroused in my dream with fear; I sat upright on the edge of the bed with a hand rubbing the cold sweat off my face. My mouth was so dried. I paced to the kitchen and gurgled half bottle of distilled water and sighed, “Life in America is tough. I can’t even dream peacefully to wait for a mighty God to pull me out of the quicksand. Tomorrow is another crazy day in the drugstore.
Jacob is one of my co-workers, who is almost 20 years old a month from now; in fact, he and I share the same month of birthday. He is a very energetic, enthusiastic and devoted worker. His smiles shine and make everyone smile back to him even though he has countless acne on his up-side down triangular face. His body is much smaller than his own specie, Caucasian; he is even tinier than many Asians. His both lengthy skinny arms are awkwardly dangling in the air as if he was released after being crucified on the cross. I don’t often ask personal questions unless someone wants to share. Today afternoon during my lunch break, Jacob has revealed some of the myths about him.
Everyone is entitled to have a 30-minute lunch as long as you complete a 6 hours of work. I was at the pantry eating my turkey and cheddar cheese sandwiches with one hand playing “Angry Bird” on my iPhone 4. Jacob walked in and said, “Hi, Cotton Boy. What are you playing? I wish I had an Android or iPhone. My piece of crap is worse than a Nokia.” I gave him a quick glance and replied, “You will soon! Are you going to school now?” “I wish I could. I have to work. I am in debt around $20,000. I can’t even earn enough to clear the monthly minimum payment.” My mouth stopped chomping. I asked, “What the heck? You are only 19. How did you get yourself into this mess?” I surprisingly questioned. “My dad is a crack-head. He stole my credit cards and spent on drugs. I can’t report him to the police and put him in jail. He is still my Dad. In fact, he is living with me and my girlfriend now. He is unable to work. He stays home all day and is a bum,” he remarked. “Wow, really! He is living under your roof. You didn’t kick him out after he sabotaged your life” I re-started munching my sandwiches and gave him 100% attention. “My mom was a crack-head too. She left me after I was delivered. I was born a “Crack-Baby”? Do you know what a “Crack-Baby” is?” I shook my head as my lips quivered, “No, can you elaborate more?”
***Crack-Baby (Part II) will be posted by 6:00 p.m. tomorrow (Eastern Time). Stay tuned and come back to explore the world of Jacob***
