The Earl of Tennessee
Earl lives next door in Edna’s basement, behind the flower boxes. Esperanza and her friends used to sit on the flower boxes until the day Tito saw a cockroach with a spot of green paint on its head.
Earl works nights. His blind are always closed during the day. Sometime he comes out and tells Esperanza and her friends keep quiet. The little wooden door that has wedged shut the dark for so long opens with a sigh and lets out a breath of mold and dampness. This is the only time we see Earl except for when he come and goes work. He has two little dogs that go everywhere with him. They like to leap and somersault like apostrophe and comma.
At night Nenny and I can hear when Earl comes home from work. First the click and whine of car door opening, then the scrape of concrete, make his dogs are very excited. He opens the door and lets loose its sigh of dampness.
Earl is jukebox repairman. He learned his trade in the South, he says. He speaks with a southern accent, smokes fat cigars and wears a felt hat. In his apartment are boxes and boxes of 45 records, moldy and damp like the smell that comes out of his apartment when he opens door.
Earl is married and has a wife somewhere. Edna says she saw once when Earl brought her to apartment. Mama says she is a skinny thing, blond and pale like salamanders that have never seen the sun. But Esperanza saw her once too and she’s not that way at all. The boys across street say she is tall red-head lady who wears tight pink pants and green glasses. Whenever she arrives, Earl holds her tight by the crook of the arm. They walk fast into the apartment, lock the door behind them and never stay long.
The Earl of Tennessee Earl lives next door in Edna’s basement, behind the flower boxes. Esperanza and her friends used to sit on the flower boxes until the day Tito saw a cockroach with a spot of green paint on its head. Earl works nights. His blind are always closed during the day. Sometime he comes out and tells Esperanza and her friends keep quiet. The little wooden door that has wedged shut the dark for so long opens with a sigh and lets out a breath of mold and dampness. This is the only time we see Earl except for when he come and goes work. He has two little dogs that go everywhere with him. They like to leap and somersault like apostrophe and comma. At night Nenny and I can hear when Earl comes home from work. First the click and whine of car door opening, then the scrape of concrete, make his dogs are very excited. He opens the door and lets loose its sigh of dampness. Earl is jukebox repairman. He learned his trade in the South, he says. He speaks with a southern accent, smokes fat cigars and wears a felt hat. In his apartment are boxes and boxes of 45 records, moldy and damp like the smell that comes out of his apartment when he opens door. Earl is married and has a wife somewhere. Edna says she saw once when Earl brought her to apartment. Mama says she is a skinny thing, blond and pale like salamanders that have never seen the sun. But Esperanza saw her once too and she’s not that way at all. The boys across street say she is tall red-head lady who wears tight pink pants and green glasses. Whenever she arrives, Earl holds her tight by the crook of the arm. They walk fast into the apartment, lock the door behind them and never stay long.
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