HORSE (standard:other, 1008 words)
Author: Violet	Added: Feb 26 2002	Views/Reads: 3227/2082	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
um...a story...

HORSE 

That girl from across the street says that Mrs. Lapinsky is secretly
dating the ugly basketball guy.  Molly, that’s that girl’s name.  She 
is the same one who’s mother works at the pick ‘n’ pack on Bullhorn 
street.  Molly’s the same one who said that her insane mother stabbed a 
steak knife through the Holy Bible at church and spends a lot of time 
with that guy outside the pick ‘n’ pack.  You know, the one who’s 
rumored to worship Satan.  “I think they’re having affairs,” says Molly 
after I enquire about the Satan guy and her mom.  I don’t think she 
even knows what that means.  Her mother didn’t vote last election.  
Because she forgot. 

“You are lying”, I say to her, though I haven’t a clue who Mrs. Lapinsky
is.  “Nuh-uh.  That’s the straight naked truth, I swear it.  Friends of 
mine saw ‘em making out.  Last night.  In Mrs. Lapinsky’s car like they 
was gonna... well... you know.  And Mrs. Lapinsky’s married.  I saw her 
husband once.  He’s so fine!  I don’t know what she doing around that 
basketball guy, huh?”  She’s lying.  She ain’t got no friends.  ‘Cept 
me, but that don’t count cause I don’t even know who Mrs. Lapinsky is.  
“They was making out?  In her car?”  “Yeah, baby!  I saw them myself.  
She didn’t even have no shirt on!”  The story is just getting more 
interesting by the minute.  I don’t even care if she’s lying.  I wanna 
know how far they gonna get.  “So, what happened?”  “That’s all.  Mama 
dragged me off.”  “You are so lying!”  “Nuh uh, girl.  That’s...” “The 
straight naked truth?  No it ain’t.  The first time you said your 
friends saw it.  Then you say you seen them?”  “Whatever.”  She leaves. 


The ugly basketball guy uses that court near Redwood park, by our house.
 He ain’t so ugly.  Not that I care, though.  He’s like about fifty.  
Says he’s been playing basketball all his life, and I gotta believe it. 
 He’s about five seven, and if that don’t tell you he’s good, you’ve 
never even watched basketball. 

Molly’s pick ‘n’ pack mother used to shoot hoops with him, before she
went insane ( I don’t even think she is insane, I think Molly just 
likes lying.)  I would show up at the park with the dog, and they would 
be playing one on one or HORSE. 

I would watch them, sometimes, when the dog wasn’t too hyper.  I
remember, him perfecting his already perfect shot, her screaming “Holy 
crap” when she missed, which was a lot.  Then, after she lost (every 
time)she would tell me to go away, and I did cause she looked like she 
was gonna eat the dog, she was so pissed. 

I used to see her at church a lot, before those Satan rumors went
around.  She was usually at confession, and hardly ever came to mass, 
but at least she confessed. 

One time Molly said that she had seen an alter with black candles in the
alleyway next to the pick ‘n’ pack.  I knew she was lying, but I never 
go back there anymore.  I didn’t really, anyway, but now I make sure to 
steer clear.  Sometimes, I really cannot stand Molly.  Maybe that’s why 
she’s still friendless, after all these years. 

Molly has only a mother.  I mean, she has a father, too, but he left. 
Or maybe he wasn’t there at all.  But, to be honest, sometimes the ugly 
basketball guy seems like a pretty good candidate.  Suddenly, the idea 
strikes me.  Maybe she isn’t lying at all.  Of course, I know that Mrs. 
Lapinsky doesn’t exist, but maybe... just maybe, “Mrs. Lapinsky”  
worships Satan with A Marilyn Manson look-alike.  Maybe she used to 
play HORSE with the basketball guy, in the park.  Maybe she works at 
the pick ‘n’ pack.  And maybe, just maybe, she has a daughter named 
Molly who tells awful lies about her and everyone else. 

Suddenly, I realize why Molly tells me about her made up people, and I
feel sorry for her.  Maybe she’ll come and play HORSE.  Or maybe she’ll 
come with me around the back of the pick ‘n’ pack, and have a food 
fight with cans of rotted tuna, like we used to do when we were little, 
or maybe she’ll come there and play with my dolls from Grandmother, the 
ones made from ears of corn.  Once, when we were little, she thought 
the corn was for eating, and she munched threw two of my dolls before I 
found out and made my mama take her home.  This was before all of the 
rumors about Molly’s mother and Satan worshipers.  It was even before 


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