Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

But for now it was tacos

Custom User Avatar
More by this author


“Food?”


“Sure.”


“Well where?”


“literally anywhere, I don’t care.”


“Well you don’t mean, anywhere… like what if we went to an only sea food restaurant. Your allergic to shell fish. Or what if we didn’t get food and instead, instead we just scavenge in dumpsters and ate whatever we could find.”


“Fine… tacos?”


“I’m down for tacos, what taco place.”


“Literally anywhere is fine.”


“Dude, no its not, what if you didn’t like the taco place, or the food was extremely expensive. Even worse what if the owners were anti sematic.”


“It’s literally just tacos, pick a place so we can eat, I’m hungry as f***.”


“Fine, how bout Dorados Tacos, it rhymes, and has 4 and a half stars… oooo wait there are only 4 reviews.” Dean said looking up from his phone.


“Four reviews is enough for me.” Abe said in reply.


“Really? So if a movie only had four reviews, that all said it was “ok” you would pay ten bucks to watch it?”
“Bro its ten bucks, I make that every time I get in my car.”


“You know sometimes you are so difficult.” Dean muttered irately.


“Can we just go get food I’m hungry.”


“Of course you are.”


“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Abe replied with pent up anger in his voice.


“Never mind let’s just go.”


Dean, a short white man in his mid-thirties, short and skinny, rode in the passenger seat. His friend, well his only friend, Abraham, but his friends and family called him Abe. Abe was a towering 6’6, his curly short, dark hair, embodied his Jewish heritage. Abe and Dean grew up together living with only mothers in central Manhattan from when they first met in the second grade at Lawrence Elementary. They have been best friends, but if you asked them they would say they are not friends, rather they are brothers. Dean a striving actor, who can only get commercials, his dream of being on the big screen, seems out of his reach. And Abe, a manager and owner of 7 subways. Both plowing through life, looking for purpose and love. But for now it was tacos.


“Alright, we’re here.” Dean said with, upheld anticipation.

 

“Dude it looks closed”


A small closed sign, hung crooked above the door handle.


“F***! Wait their web site says it doesn’t close until 6, and its only 5… c’mon let’s go.”
“Bro, it says closed.” Abe said insistently.


“F*** that, c’mon let’s go find out.”


The pair walked up to the door of Dorados Tacos. It was a small, building, with a small rusted out sign un symmetrically hung above the door. Dean peered through the window, a man sat at the bar back to the door. And a small Mexican man stood, cleaning glasses. Behind the bar. He was short, stout, with a large belly. A cigarette dangled from his lips, unlit.


“This place looks like a crack house.” Abe remarked hesitantly.


Looking down at his phone, dean replied. “Well google says it has some of the best tacos around.”
“Alright man I trust you.”


Abe pulled on the once golden handle, and they both entered. A small bell above the door rang as they entered. Neither of the men looked up, from what they were doing.


“Dude I don’t know about this, these dudes are kind of freaking me out.” Abe whispered.


“Follow me.”


Dean with poise and confidence walked up to the bar. With one arm he leaned over the soft oak.
“Excuse me… uhhh we are here for the tacos…”


Neither of the men reacted, as if they didn’t hear Dean.


“Ummm, you sell tacos, right? Me and my friend would like some… uhh could we see a menu by any chance.”
Slowly the man behind the bar lifted his head.


“You want tacos, Ese?”


He had a thick Mexican accent. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes wafted toward Dean and Abe when he talked.


“What you want, cheeckin, feesh, porrk…?”


His voice was rough, the accent made it hard for the pair to understand what was being said.


Excitedly Dean said. “Uhh, will have the pork and, uh do you have beef?


The man behind the bar nodded his head slowly, with an annoyed tension in his face, and an angered look in his eye.


“I’ll take that then.”


“I’ll have the same.” Abe said quickly, with a hint of fear in his voice.


“Sit.”


The man pointed to a back corner booth. The poultry was stained and peeling on the off the seat. The two walked over and sat. Within minutes, two plates came floating from the kitchen. In the hands of the short man, who moments before was behind the bar. Bam! Bam! 2 shots came from outside, shattering the glass. The glass window 3 booths down exploded, the glass flickering in the setting sun like a pristine water fall. The man holding our two plates of food. Fell to the ground. With a sudden thud. Dean and Abe sat still frozen in shock and fear. The man at the bar turned from his drink for the first time. Looking at the dead man on the ground covered in blood, glass, and now deconstructed tacos.


“S***.” He muttered under his breath.


A black, unmarked SUV with tinted windows screamed into the parking lot and skidded to a stop. Five men in all black clothing stepped out. Each wielding his own assault rifle.  A sixth man stepped from the car. He was dressed down in a slim black tux. Led by two of the men in black, the group made their way to the entrance of the restaurant. Heads down against the tale Dean and Abe sat still. Two of the man approached Dean and Abe. The two men’s large muscular hands grabbed the two by their arms, in a low scruff voice the, one of the men said.


“Up.”


Dean could detect an accent, though he wasn’t sure what. Scared for their life and willing to do anything the men said. Dean and Abe stood and led by the two men made their way out of the restaurant and towards the parked SUV.

 

 


“Knock Knock”


“Come in.” the man at the desk said in a quiet but powerful voice.
A large man, dressed in all black, entered the office.


“Sir… We have them.”


The man at the desk pivoted in his chair so he could face the man talking. He was dressed in an elaborate robe, a perfectly trimmed beard hung from his face. A smoldering cigar fitted between his middle and forefinger. The room was dark: a single lamp illuminated the present haze. The office was windowless and warm.


“Good, now bring them to me.”


 


The inside of the car was warm, but yet cold. The men stood still bouncing with the bumps in the road. The ride was silent, the tinted windows created a darkened lighting. The ride was sort, no more than 10 minutes. Dean sat smooched between a man in black and Abe. The seat warmers made for a sweaty and mildly uncomfortable ride. The car slowed and turned into a skinny, uneven driveway. Ahead stood a building, windows blown out, and different pieces of metal filling holes in the walls. The car approached an opening in the side of the building, and stopped. The group stood in silence for a moment then with a sudden jolt, the car began to descend into the ground. The crunching of metal and grinding of concrete cloud be heard, from all around. Surprisingly the ride down took longer than the ride to the mysterious building. The elevator came to a sudden halt, throwing dean from his seat and onto the man sitting next to him.


“Oh-shi-sorry,” Dean said with hast and uncertainty.


The man pushed him off with a grunted.


“Dumb a**.”


  At once all the doors opened with a satisfying collective noise. The men hoped out of the car, pulling Dean and Abe after them. Both men were lead side by side with their arms twisted behind their backs.
“Abe, dude I’m scared.” Dean whispered,


“Dude don’t look at me I’m about to s*** myself. I’m no fighter.” Dean wondered how a six foot six guy had never learned to fight, but this wasn’t the time.


“Abe, follow me we’re gonna get out of this. Hey, uhhh… could we use the bathroom real quick?”


The man holding onto Deans arm, yanked upward, and tightened his grip, rendering a sharp scream from dean. “Shut the f*** up, white boy.” The man said spitting on the back of Dean’s neck.


“What?... your white too.” Dean replied back to the man.


That comment rendered another yank of the arm this time a sharp crack came from deans small white arm.
“YYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!” cried Dean. “You broke my f***ing arm you shmuck.”


“Yeah, and if you don’t shut the f*** up, I’ll brake the other one too.” The man replied, with a rough, scowling voice his hot breath on the back of Deans neck.


Dean didn’t talk again for the rest of the walk. They made their way down a large stone hall, water trickled down the side, of the rock walls. The hall way was illuminated, but the source of light was nowhere to be found. The floor was carpeted, and created an oddly warm atmosphere. Abe and Dean, were taken to a single door on the side of the hall way. The only door they have seen so far. One man opened the door and the two were pushed into the room.


“Sit down.” One of the men said.


The room was a perfect square with a metal table in the middle, 4 chairs sat around it. The two sat down at the table, in silence. Deans arm was bruised around the wrist and elbow. The room was cold, and completely made out of metal. Two men stood by the door, the other two sat on the other side of the table. The room was silent. With a click the lights turned off a lighted tablet in the middle of the table illuminated the four at the tables face. Dean thought to himself how it was possible for a completely metal table to turn into a tablet like that. The two realized that these people must have some money and be have the attest technology. One would not of thought that this was below the old metal barn. the room light up the walls had turned into screens, white light lit up the room. A loading bar appeared on each of the walls, seconds later a picture of a woman appeared. She was standing in a square, who’s photo only reviled the top half of her. She had on a black coat, and sunglasses.


“Do you guys know who this is?” The man on the left side of the table said.


The two recognized her instantly, it was Margret, Margret Thickle, only her friends and family called her Maggie. She was 27, with black hair, she had moved to Italy for the summer.


“Why?” Dean replied with anger, he was now unwilling to participate, due to his broken arm.


The man pulled a clean black handgun from under the table and with his elbow resting on the table he held it, aimed directly into the eyes of Dean.


“I’m not going to ask again.”


“Yes, thats Margret Thickle. She’s a friend of ours.” Dean spit out.


Then two men looked at each other, and nodded. The stood up. The man with the gun, flicked it at Dean and Abe signaling them to stand up. The two stood, arms at their side.


“Hand behind your head, the man with the hand gun grunted.”


Dean and Abe listened and lifted their arms up and put their hands on the back of their heads






Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback