The Time I Exterminated

a Conversation

A Fictional Story by G. S., Congers, NY

The place: the Congers Community Center. Time: 3 p.m. Date: unknown. You walk in and the smell of sweat hits you in the face. The floor is lined with skid marks. The screeching sounds of sneakers hitting the floor make your ears curl up. The walls are painted blue with tan trim, and there are many windows which let the sun gleam in.

There are six baskets in the gym. But there are two main baskets that have a glass backboard on them. There are protecting covers over the concrete walls.

"Watch out," says Matt Brady, dribbling up the court. "I'm going to school you."

"Bring it on," I say. Everyone is watching. All my friends are there. The men who work at the community center come into the gym to watch. I am hoping that when I look at all the people, they will disappear.

"I gave you a warning, Sousman," Matt says.

"Enough with the warning; let's see what you got," I say.

He dribbles left , then right.

"I'm going to stomp," he says.

"Brady, if you take me to the hole, I'll kill myself, right now," I say.

Brady makes his move toward the hole through his legs, behind his back. It is like slow motion. Brady finally goes up with the ball. I see the look in everyone's eyes. As I go up, I know I will block it. My hand goes back, then forward. I swat the ball into the next court. It is over; I have exterminated the conversation.