Ralph Cheo Thurmon
Writer
Georgia

During his three-month residency in Jackson, Ralph Cheo Thurmon modeled residency activities on "Writing in the Circle of Life, Love, Creativity and More." Using this model, he worked with African American young people, adults, and local artists to create a body of written and spoken work tracing their experiences and visions for the future.

The short story below, "Corner Brothers," is from Thurmon's award-winning collection of fiction, The Future and Other Stories. Published in 1991 by Third World Press in Chicago, IL. For Richard Wright and John O. Killens. All rights reserved.

Corner Brothers

"Rack the balls, chump," said Marlon as he walked around the pool table. He held the stick with one hand, dug deep into the pocket of the table and pulled out the cue ball with the other.

"I ain't racking nothing. I'm gone get me a cup of coffee to cool out some of this JB. I don't rack no balls, no way!"

Moon slapped his stick in the wall rack, sucked his teeth and glared at Marlon, Woody and the other cats, who were lazily leaning against the wall. Moon grabbed his overcoat and hat. He pimp-walked out of the pool room area to the snack bar for a cup of coffee.

That's all Marlon needed. He slammed his stick across the table, then glided across the room to cut off Moon in his path. They stared each other down, whiskey-eye to whiskey-eye.

"Hey Moon, man, why don't you rack the balls?"

Moon stared at Marlon. He had to give him one thing; the brother had a lot of nerve. Moon walked backwards. It was a slow stomping, leaning, swaying walk. He slung his coat in a chair and carefully placed his hat on top of it. Angrily, he walked back to Marlon. Moon's big halfred-halfblack lips were poked out. The beady naps on his uncombed head looked like little black fists that were ready to punch Marlon in the face.

"Hey, high-yellow, who you think you talkin to? This is Moon, Moon-goon. The baddest cat ever graced yo vision."

Moon circled Marlon. He smiled at the cats who had quickly become his audience. They had seen Moon cut dudes before, even kill a policeman, though the law didn't know Moon had done it. Moon circled Marlon three times, then stopped in front of him. Performing for his audience, Moon said, "Brothers, I'm gone be nice today. I'm gone walk like Jesus. I'm gone be a Godman. I'm gone turn the other cheek like King and give this chump a chance to live." He turned his back as a gasp rose from the audience.

"Boyeee, get outta my way," said Moon.

Marlon stood fast and held Moon's eyes. Marlon sized him up. All he saw was a dark, little, short, greasy, loudmouth dude who had gotten a rep by bullying people.

"I ain't moving nowhere!" He pointed his finger in Moon's face, calling his bluff. "But you better get yo greasy little tail over there and rack them balls or I'm gone take you and clean every piece of dog doodoo offa Lynch Street."

The audience began instigating. Voices howled.

"Uh oh!"

"Look out!"

"It's gone be some bleepin and weepin today!"

"Dang, Moon!"

"Marlon gone get hisself killed!"

Moon had his rep, but Marlon had a cause. Moon saw the deathly seriousness in Marlon's eyes. Marlon was willing to die for his cause. Fine, Moon thought, if the chump wanted to die, then he was in the right place, messing with the right person.

Moon smiled. "Okay, man, okay. Let me get my coat."

Marlon shouted, "Get his coat, somebody, get his coat!"

Woody scrambled over, grabbing Moon's coat before he could even move.

"Now it's even steven, just you and me, Moon. No knife, no gun, not even this pool stick." Marlon lifted the pool stick and slammed it down on the table. Woody jumped.

"Come on, Moon, what you gone do? Everybody tired uh you. You can't even drink and have a nice time shootin some pool. You gotta bring yo rep into it. Well, I'm here to take yo rep away. I don't want it. Nobody don't need no rep of killing brothers, even that Black cop you killed. He was uh all right dude. I'm challenging you, man, and you can believe that the strength and courage of all these cats up against the wall is in me. Cause by myself, just wit my courage and strength, I wouldn't mess wit you. Cause yeah, you a bad cat, a bad baaad cat. The baddest cat that ever graced our vision. But, right now, you ain't. And, if you don't rack them balls, I'm gone milk the blood from you." Marlon stood there, strong in his cause. Woody stood trembling, crouched low, holding the coat. Moon's coat burned through his chest, like a bullet shot from a .45.

Danger forced the room into silence. It was Moon's move. Marlon had called his final bluff, and Moon knew it. He also knew that to keep his rep, someone would have to die.

As Moon looked around the room from face to face, he saw all of the cats he had ever talked about and spat on -- even Bobo, upon whose face Moon had cut a lifetime scar from eye to cheek for calling him nappy head. The disdain in Marlon's eyes were mirrored in Bobo's whiskey eyes as revenge. Marlon stood in the midst of these men as a great and powerful statue, a monument to the collective spirit of all the corner brothers.

The silence broke. Moon moved to the table very slowly. Looked like he was hiding a trick up his sleeve. He picked up the rack and looked around at all the wall cats. He faced Marlon.

"Okay, brother, I'll rack the balls," said Moon. There was a loud, unbelieving gasp from the red-eyed wall weeds. He pulled out ball after ball, placing them on the table.

Somewhere within Moon, a river was welling. A river that was calm and swimmable. Everybody in the room was in the river swimming around laughing and joking. Each brother had a woman. All of the women were beautiful, Afrikan Goddesses and Black Queens. The river was of peace, tranquility and love.

The river within Moon swelled until it overflowed and a tear burst from Moon's eye. First one, then another, until Moon stood crying, unleashing the tension of ten lifetimes.

"Yall look at me rack these balls. Take my rep from me, Marlon. All yall take my rep, cause yall the ones who gave it to me. Yall made Moon by being passive chumps, like sheep or slaves, just like the white man made you."

All the brothers went for Moon, hugging him, trying to stop him from crying and pulling their handkerchiefs from their back pockets trying to dry Moon's face. Marlon ran, took Moon's nappy head into his arms, and began crying along with Moon.

They hugged, repented, then left together to huddle and keep warm on the corner. The balls were racked, but the next pool game -- it was never played.