Walk Through the Park

Zoongash trudged along through the downpour. There was something about the rain that calmed Zoongash's nerves.It was as if the rain washed away all of his problems, allowing him to for a brief moment to put his violent past beihind him. Zoongash decided to cut through the park on his way back, deciding to avoid the splashing cars that roared by. He was half way through when he noticed something underneath the slide. At first he couldn't decipher what the big object was until it suddenly moved. He then realized it was actually a women huddled under the slide, trying to find some shelter from the torrential rains that came down around her. "Maybe I should help," thought Zoongash. It was not often that Zoongash considered acting so compassionately, but it was something about the rain that seemed to change the way Zoongash acted. In the end his bitter cold-heart won out and he merely waved his hand in the direction of the slide and walked away. All the way back to Mo Liquor, no matter how hard he tried he could not put the women out of his head. He tried to justify walking away by telling himself that maybe she had a reason for being there and just wanted to be outside during the storm, but he had trouble believing this himself. Zoongash just shook is head, " Bloody Americans". He doubted that he would have any business until the storm died down, so he decided to order some noodles from Chan's. Within the next hour Zoongash received his food had managed to finish the entire bowl of curry noodles. As he was cleaning up form his meal he noticed that he had yet to eat his fortune cookie. He tore through the wrapper and cracked open the cookie. As he stuffed the cookie in his mouth he read the small text on the paper. "What goes around comes around". As he read the fortune his hands began to shake and images of the woman under the slide began to run through hs head. "Bloody Americans".

Closing Time

The sound of gun shots rang through the air. The cries of children and the screams of their mothers added to the chaos within the burning village. Zoongash stood frozen from shock among the madness going on around him. Everywhere he looked he saw the soldiers rampaging through the village, killing any of the hindu villagers that crossed their path. Zoongash felt something holding on to his leg and looked down to see a young boy looking up at him with dark, pain-filled eyes. The child didn't make a sound and only looked at Zoongash with the piercing dark eyes.

Zoongash awoke in jolt of terror as he began to regain consciousness from his fit-full sleep. "Blood dream." His heartbeat slowly began to return to its normal rate, but not before Zoongash took a swig from the bottle of whiskey he kept next to his chair behind the counter which often acted as his makeshift bed. Wiping the sweat from his brow he glanced at the clock. It read 11:30, time to close up shop. He slowly made his way out of the chair and walked towards the front door to lock up. As he approached the door a woman appeared from the outside darkness. "Sorry we are closed," yelled Zoongash through the glass door as he began to deadbolt the door. The woman appeared to be very shaken up and kept looking around as if expecting someone to come up behind her. "Please, I've had a bad night," replied the woman. Zoongash usually did not take kindly to customers who refused to leave, however something about the woman touched him inside. "OK, but hurry up," answered Zoongash opening the door and moving back towards his post behind the counter. After a few minutes the woman grabbed a bottle of Boston's and came towards the counter. She handed Zoongash a crumpled bill and he noticed a dark red stain on the sleeve of her shirt. He pretended not to notice the stain, which was without a doubt blood, and gave her change. He shook his head as she left the store. "This bloody city."

A Man and His Dog

"Ding, Dong". The electronic door bell rang throughout the store. Looked up from the mirror he was using to trim his beard. An angry looking man with a do walked into the store, milling about the different rows of alcohol. "Bloody Americans," muttered Zoongash to himself as he put down his scissors and made his way to behind the counter. "Oi! Get dat bloody fleabag out of my store before I get rid of it myself," yelled Zoongash angrily. The man looked up, grabbed a twelve pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon and made his way to the counter without responding to Zoongash's protest. "Kutha! Are you deaf? I said get that mut out of my store."
The man stepped up to the counter and it was at this moment that Zoongash noticed the Colt .45 strapped tot he man's hip. The man gave a Zoongash a glare as cold as ice and t that moment the dog began to issue a low growl towards Zoongash . After many years as a volunteer in the Pakistani army, Zoongash was no stranger to such penetrating looks and returned the penetrating look with an intense stare of his own. Then the man finally broke the silence after minutes of the deadlock. "Look you stupid Araab. I just want to buy my beer and get the hell out of this shit hole you call a store," said the man as he dropped the cans of beer onto the counter along with a ten dollar bill to cover the charge. Without taking his eyes off the the grimacing man, Zoongash took the bill from the counter and placed it in the cash register. The man showed no change in emotion and simply picked up his beer and made his way back towards the door leading out to the busy street. "Nest time you bring that dog in here, I'll shoot him myself," threatened Zoongash, even though he only had an old rusty shotgun behind the counter which wasn't even loaded.

Zoongash's Day Out

It was a cool sunny day and Zoongash Kalanadhabtla decided to take advantage of the good weather and do some shopping. He was on his way back from his weekly trip to the Food Mart. Zoongash walked down the street humming the songs of Nusrat Ali Khan, with his groceries in one hand and a slice of mango in the other. All of a sudden his humming was interrupted by the loud shouting from an unknown location. "I am the savior! I have come to pass judgement upon those who have sinned!" Zoongash looked around and then up towards the Goldstein and Frick Bank. There atop the roof of the building was a robed man with the facial features similar to those of Jesus. "Stopped that bloody shouting you bloody gora (slang term for White people)", yelled back Zoongash. The man turned his attention to Zoongash. "It is not to late for those of a false god to be saved", replied the man as he waved the Bible and rosary beads in Zoongash's direction. " Go to hell!" yelled Zoongash as he threw the remains of his half eaten mango at the religious preacher.Zoongash continued back on his way back his store with the angry shouts of the Jesus-wannabe in the background. "God damn this city. It is so bloody loud," complained Zoongash as the religious shouts were soon replaced by the drilling of a jack hammer from road work being down across the streets. Zoongash had almost made it Mo Liquor without further incident.


Just as Zoongash was walking up to the front door a loud "Bang, Bang", rang through the city. Zoongash ducked down towards the floor while throwing his grocery bag above his head for protection. He heard a car sped off down the street, followed by police sirens. Zoongash looked up and saw one of his customers, Donald the fisherman, laying on the ground with blood coming from his leg. A man, looking as if he had come out of a Russian mobster movie, made his way to the injured man and began to examine the man's injury. "Bloody city. I tought I left dis shit in Pakistan," exclaimed Zoongash as he began to unlock the door to his store. He had only a few minutes to put away his groceries before he began to have customers. A man in a dirty long overcoat walked into the store and began to make his way through the aisles. He eventually made his way to the counter with a handle of Mr.Boston's gin. "Ha! Bloody Americans always drink da worst shit," Zoongash muttered to himself as he rang up the man's purchase. Zoongash noticed that the man seemed nervous and was constantly looking around. After paying with a mixture if half torn, filthy money and coins, the man quickly walked to the exit. Zoongash just shook his head, "Bloody Americans".

The Noodle Incident

Zoongash stood in solitude on the corner of Main St. slurpping away on the curried noodles from Chan's, trying to warm his body from the cold. Although it was cold, the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky and it was this, which had prompted Zoongash to leave his stuffy liquor store and get some fresh air. The steaming bowl of ramen was the closest thing to a good curry that Zoongash could find. How he missed the spice of Alia's curry. Zoongash let out a sigh as he thought of the one and only woman he had ever loved. It was not often that Zoongash allowed himself to be so vulnerable by exposing his emotions, but his eyes began to glisten as he pictured her beautiful face. He began to think about how different his life would be had he not lost-

"Bloody chink! Look what you've done," yelled Zoongash as he looked down to see the remainder of his curried noodle splattered all over his shirt.

A Chinese man in a Yankees hat had ran into Zoongash as he rushed around the corner, causing Zoongash to spill his bowl of noodles.

"Excuse me, I am very sorr-," the Chinese man paused in his apology. "What did you call me?"

"You heard me you bloody chink! Watch where you are going chutia," replied Zoongash as he futilely began to try to wipe off some of the curry sauce, although most of it had already seeped into his shirt.

"Go to hell you racist prick!" yelled the man as he stormed off down the street and in his rage he did not realize that he stepped on a woman sitting on the sidewalk.
"You bloody Chinese bugger, come back here and feel the back of my hand!" shouted Zoongash as the man continued on his way down the street, giving Zoongash the finger as he did. Zoongash was about to yell out an insult regarding the man's mother, but was cut short as a fire truck screamed by, sirens blaring. Zoongash looked down at his curry drenched shirt and just shook his head. "Bloody city."

Crunch! The dying cockroach twitched as Zoongash removed the the rolled up issue of India Today which served as his makeshift fly swatter.

"Bloody little buggers," yelled Zoongash as he brushed the bug's carcass from the counter and into the nearby trash bin. He settled back down into his worn leather chair behind the counter awaiting the first customer of the day. It was already four thirty and he had yet to have any one enter Mo Liquor.

"Bloody weather, always driving away customer," he said in frustration, referring to the snow that had began to fall. Just as Zoongash began to nod off to the melodic voice of Nasrat Fateh Ali Khan on the radio, a customer entered the store. Zoongash snapped to attention and rose to inspect his new customer. She wore a scarlet red coat and fishnet stockings. Zoongash just shook his head as she approached the counter with a bottle of vodka in her hand. If a woman wore such an outfit in Pakistan she would be stoned for showing so much skin, Zoongash thought to himself.

"You some kind of hooker or someting? Walking around showing your legs like a rundi," said Zoongash as he rung up the bottle of Smirnoff.
"Excuse me?" replied the woman in disbelief as to what he had just said to her "I think I'll take my business elsewhere you Indian asshole," said the woman as face turned as red as her coat.
"Good, I don't want your dirty money anyway you rundi ke bachi," replied Zoongash as he snatched the bottle from the woman and placing it on the shelf behind the counter. The woman stormed out of the store in a rage, stumbling into a man and his dog walking past on the said walk. She hardly seemed to noticed and just continued on her way down Rouse Blvd.

"Bloody woman," muttered Zoongash, waving his hand in disgust. He placed his rusty kettle on the small propaneburner he kept behind the stove and patiently waited for the water boil, sipping his flask of scotch as he did. Just as he began to pour his tea, the store went dark. The store was completely silent, Zoongash could not even hear the low hum of the coolers along the wall.
"Maadher chod! God damn this bloody weather!" Accepting the fact that there was nothing he could do, he sat back in his chair. with flask in one hand and cup of tea in the other.

"What the hell is this then?"

"It's my I.D. sir.

"You expect me to believe you 21 years old?"

"Ha! Piss off before I call police, you little chutiya chootia!"

The teenager's face turned bloodshot red as he quickly made his way to the door.

"Don't come back until your balls drop you bloody hoodlum", yelled Zoongash as the kid left Mo Liquor like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"Bloody kids today, think they can come in and take the mickey out of me. I didn't come to this bloody country to be tricked by osome bakar chodu."

Zoongash removed the teenager's goods from the counter where they had been left and returned them to their respective shelves as his anger began to dissipate. Beep,beep,beep. The alarm on Zoongash's watch went off signalling it was time for afternoon tea. As he made his way to the the back of the counter where he kept his rusty kettle, another customer came through the door.

"Bugger off, closed for tea," shouted Zoongash

"Come on man can't I just buy a six-pack?" asked the customer as he made his way to one of the many coolers along the wall.

"Gaddha,I said I am closed for tea so leave!" said Zoongash waving his empty tea cup menacingly at the man.

"All right, don;t get your turban in a twist," replied the man as he left the store in frustration.

"Bloody Americans, always more and more liquor, no wander they are so stupid," muttered Zoongash as he poured the tea from the kettle, adding a shot of whiskey to the cup. His face became of displeasure as he began to sip his tea.
"They call this rubbish tea?" Zoongash asked himself out loud, as he grimaced at his tea cup. After all of his years in the U.S. Zoongash had yet to become accustomed to the minute differences in everyday life in America compared to that of his old life in Pakistan. How he missed the spice of a homecooked curry, watching criket in Multan and having a chai tea with family. What would his family think of him now, he thought to himself. He was a 40 year-old Paki with no family and a muslim who not only drank, but owned an entire liquor store.
Beep,Beep, Beep. The alarm on his watch went off again, signaling the end of Zoongash's tea break. Clearing the thoughts from his mind, he took a final sip from his tea cup and returned to his postion behind the counter awaiting the next customer.