The Nerve
By Daniel Romo


He thought I was a carnie. And never had I been so insulted! Not
even when Alex Gordon called me a dirty wetback in third grade.
A carnie! “Excuse me. Where do I buy tickets?” Was it because of
my basic blue tee and distressed denim pants I purchased yesterday
from the GAP? Perhaps my disdain for shaving, hence my 5 o’ clock
shadow maybe more like 6, but even so. Doesn’t he know I’m allergic
to hay and meager pay, and I have health insurance? Not to mention
I hate traveling, crowds, and corn dogs. A carnie! I haven’t even had
to do community service. And I graduated high school with honors,
college even. And when he left because my disbelieving stare wasn’t
the answer he was looking for, I tapped him on the shoulder making
sure to give him a piece of my mind. “Excuse me sir…The ticket
booth is behind the Porta-Potties.” Huh. A carnie.


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Daniel Romo teaches high school Creative Writing, and lives in Long Beach, CA. He is an MFA candidate in poetry at Antioch University, and thinks gray sky the utmost inspiration. More of his writing can be found at danielromo.wordpress.com/ (Peyote Soliloquies)<