I live in an unknown village in California known as "Gonzales". I fall into the "Neutral Paisa" category. Strange people live in this ghost town. People walk around with their empty dirty faces and big tostada hats and jeans so tight, their face is dark blue, or with their annoying pack of wolves aka children. As I'm on my way to school, i observe the surroundings. I want to take a deep breath of the morning breeze, but there's no such thing as that in this town. Here, it's called, "The Morning Cowshit Breeze" The neighborhood is dead slient. i get to the shopping center, there's nothing. Just people opening their stores, no biggie. I get to the annoying bridge, hoping that some hot ass trucker notices me and starts honking like a biggo maniac, but their too busy honking at the draq queens blabbering in back of me. After the bridge, i look to my left and there's a biggo traffic jam. My loving mother sometimes asks herself, and i translate "THESE F**CKERS CAN'T DRIVE FOR SHIT! THE F**CKING CITY NEEDS TO STOP MAKING DAMN HOUSES.! F**CKING ASSHOLES!" and so on. This echoes in my mind as i look at the traffic. I turn my head away from it, and walking towards me is a man. I always see this man walking alone, wearing the same clothes all the time. I wonder, "why such an empty face? 'does he enjoy the cowshit breeze more than I?" He passes by me, BOY, THIS DUDE SMELLS LIKE ASS! I look over the traffic jam, and i see a shopping cart with a big orange flag filled with filthy trash actually moving. I start trippin out. I take a sharper look at it, and it's an old handcapped man that i've known since i was small. I don't remember him using a high tech wheelchair. Perhaps he enjoys riding those electrical shopping carts at Food Max, who doesn't? I tell myself, "damn, he was such a pimp daddy before, now he's a busted ass shopping cart". I'm almost at my school. I suddenly hear someone screaming my name, but it was just a boy talking bout hIs mamas CROTCH. As I'm walking to my US History class, i start to feel this laziness coming to me. I make it to the front door, but I'm just standing there. 50 years later (meaning 5 minutes), i yell "F**CK IIIIT! JUST FOR TODAY!" and walk back home. So the cycle continues to this day.Update- Mom recently told me that some chismosa lady told her that the guy in the wheelchair died so yeah, RIP and stuff, and the guy that smells like ass no longer smells like ass, lol, and he wears different colors and stuff (BOUT FUCKING TIME YOU GOT HAPPY COLORS! BE HAPPY!) and I wrote this story like 500 years ago back in high school, so yeah, it's pretty old, okay, i'm done, hehe.