Audiobook-Tough, Gritty, Aggressive, Urban, Believable, Rugged

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Audiobooks
185
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Description

Short story from The Sadness of Beautiful Things by Simon Van Booy. Published by Penguin Random House.

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)

Accents

North American (General) North American (US New York, New Jersey, Bronx, Brooklyn)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
How old are you? 15. Your folks still around? My mother. She in Virginia with her third husband and his kids. And I don't know my father. Me neither. Arthur said, poor guy. How you figure that on account of how sorry he'll be When im world champ and got the Lambo flight crib on fifth of fur coats, artworks and ****. William smiled. You got big dreams. My respect. What about your dreams? I'm just trying to keep going. I could teach you how to fight. You got reach. That's a big plus. Maybe I could get you a few bucks. We've been up the locker room. I don't like fighting serious. They were both laughing. Now Then why are you doing what you do to eat, man? My uncle Don't give me ****. And I got to save up for when he kicked me out. Arthur looked at their clean plates at the pile of peppers on a side dish made by the thief. Go back to school then. Okay. You know how it is. Yeah, Arthur said, remembering the boys who had killed his pigeon. He wondered if William had a heart of Starling dogs, but then fell. He didn't that it was most likely an empty place never really lived in. When the waiter came with the check in a plastic tray, William didn't realize and just sat there. Eventually, Arthur had to say something. He thought the thief would laugh again, but instead he blushed, then reached inside his Huddy and put the brown billfold on the table. Arthur took it and laid some bills in the tray. There were also mints, Christmas Candies, hard white circles of green stripes. Arthur wondered where the uncle's home Waas if William had a room and if his bed was made up, or if the blankets were Ruffin and washed if he had posters on the walls of people cut out from magazines or if the paint was peeling and there were damp circles where the plaster had swollen with mold. Arthur took the emergency $20 bill hidden between his bus pass and tattered photographs of his mother, Sand the pigeon and Mike Tyson. What you're doing, the thief said, looking around. Why you giving me money? I'm not giving it to you. I want to buy your knife. When Arthur got home that night, his mother was falling asleep in front of the television she had on a bathrobe and looked worn out. I was worried about you. She said, What time is it? You don't have to worry about me. Arthur reminded her I'm undefeated. Remember? You hungry? No. I say you gonna be home tomorrow night, Ma. I think so. Good. Because I got a friend coming over for a cooking lesson. His mother stared at him. A friend? Yeah, From the gym. Arthur nodded another fighter.