He was a little pipsqueak from the streets of La Plage, and the word on the streets was that he was a punk nonpareil. He well-earned the nickname, “Le Petit Garçon Sac Bleu,” for when he owned you a returned favor, he would present an empty, crumpled blue plastic bag as a gift.
This was his signature – the blue plastic bag – and when he would present it, he would hand it over with a slight smile and puffed out chest.
“Here ya go,” he’d smirk. “Couldn’t get you that baseball cap you wanted ‘cause the line was so long at the store, so have a plastic bag as a memento.”
Then he would walk away, chest out, overblown muscles bulging from his wife beater, smugly smiling as he left.
“How ya doin’, Beautiful?” he’d say to the first girl he met on the street. “You look yummy—”
©2022 Colcannon Metropolis, excerpt from “Le Petit Garçon Sac Bleu”