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Elizabeth Peppersack is a junior in college at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York. She is originally from Idaho. Her goal is to become a member of the Peace Corps after college and teach abroad.

By Elizabeth Peppersack

He got hisself a chippy. He drank on jiggle juice and looked at her gams. Lights were out and Guy found her out back. She was wearing some gooseberry lay; he got his hand up on her. She was gowed-up. He was a jobbie, had no time for her. So Guy gave her the jump, bangled her up bad. He dumped her and her sweet gams in a heap lot for the elephant ears to find.

Guy wasn’t so bad as all that though. Lookers and liquor made him hot under the collar.

A group of mugs came for him. They had frowns on their pans, an’ they say chiv, drill,

fry, an’ they say pump stopped real slow, an’ they say dust out. The big guns are hinkous of me. I’m just a mal, Guy’s mal. These boys are rap, they have a way of putting down and forgetting. I got bruises on my kisser to show it.

Shy came around and he got a toothy grin real spread out on his face. Where’s my dough he says. He pinches me and twists my bruises. Torpedoes looked all rough behind him so I cried. Guy didn’t have cash. Shy says liar and rubs-out his cig. I am thinking he will rubout on me. But he gives me the snap instead. Laying down, I watch him take the powder.