Knock Knock.
The rest of their morning was filled with their usual back-and-forth banter.
"Can't believe it's been almost 15 years since I started raising you. Time really flies by."
"It's been 15 years already? Damn, I'm a full-on teenager."
----------------------------------------
"Hey, Martin, have I ever told you about how I found you?"
"Yes, Gramps," Martin rolled his eyes. "You remind me of it every other day."
"Back then, you looked so tiny and vulnerable on the side of the streets that the inner samaritan within me couldn't help but take pity. And even now, this poor old man still has to babysit you every day."
"Fuck off, Gramps. I'm perfectly capable of surviving on my own. Who found those apples last week, huh?"
"I… I… I… that was just a lucky coincidence. You just happened to stumble on them. On any other day, I would have been better."
Martin snorted. "Uh-huh. And what about that can of soda last month? Was that another 'coincidence'?"
"..."
-----------------------------------------
"Hey Gramps, what do you think is inside the inner city?"
"No idea. I was born and raised in this area. Never bothered to explore."
"I asked what you think's inside, not what you know about it."
"Why do you suddenly have an interest in the inner city?"
"I don't have any particular interest. I just asked because it was the first thing that popped into my head to keep this conversation going."
"Did you just openly admit that you enjoy talking to me?"
"Don't get too ahead of yourself."
-----------------------------------------
"Martin, this is a daily reminder that I am superior to you in every aspect."
"Are you really that insecure?"
"No, Martin, I'm just stating the obvious. I'm clearly stronger than you—in body, mind, and spirit."
"Well, old man, let's test out the strength of those old bones, shall we? I, the mighty Martin Zalchev, hereby challenge you to arm wrestling."
"Bold move, but I'm afraid of snapping your twig arms in half."
"Is that a way of saying that you're a wuss?"
"You really want to go down that road? Fine, I accept."
----------------------------------------
"No way…" Martin muttered while shaking his now sore and aching arm.
"Well, kid," Gramps said, with a glint in his eyes, "I told you. Old doesn't mean weak."
Martin shaking his head in mock frustration. "You really had to go all out on me, huh?"
"Well, you wanted to challenge me," Gramps shrugged, clearly proud of himself. "What's the point of having a Gramps if you can't be taught a lesson or two?"
Martin raised his other hand in surrender. "Alright, alright. You win. But just you wait. One day, I'll get you."
Gramps chuckled. "Over my dead body."
"One day… one day, I'll be stronger than you, and on that day, you'll regret ever challenging me—"
"Wait." All of a sudden, Gramps's smile had vanished.
His expression became serious, almost grim. "Someone's knocking at the door."
Martin immediately stopped talking, his gaze shifting to the door. Sure enough, he heard a faint knocking.
"This is never good news. Stay quiet, Martin. I'll handle this."
Martin nodded without a word.
Gramps stood up, walked toward the door, and without opening it, called out in a loud, authoritative voice: "Excuse me, yes, what do you want?"
A sharp, screechy voice answered from behind the door, muffled because of the object that lay between them, but clear enough to understand. "Saludos de los capos de la droga." Scratch that, maybe if the person on the other side of the door spoke another language, they wouldn't have understood either way.
"Excuse me?" Gramps, keeping his composure, asked in a slight warning tone.
"Anglais, anglais, il parle anglais."
Gramps's eyes narrowed. "Look mate, I'm only gonna say this once: Whatever drugs you're selling, I'm not buying. So you're better off finding someone else to bother."
Martin's heart began to pound in his chest. He could tell that this person was definitely not here with the most stellar of intentions..
And he was correct, for the next set of words he said sent a chill down his spine. "Boss has extended an invitation to all citizens of this area to join his cartel. You have no right to refuse." The voice now spoke in English, its tone colder, more threatening.
Why the fuck was a drug cartel member here? Why were they getting involved with us? Does just a simple encounter with a cartel automatically make them involved with the cartel? A million questions raced in Martin's brain, each one worse than the other.
Martin glanced at his Gramps, whose expression was stone cold. It was times like these that Martin was really grateful that he had his gramps. If he was in Gramps's place right now, he would be shitting in his pants. Scratch that, he doesn't even need to be in his place. He was having that feeling right now. And yet, Gramps had 45 years of experience in the slums, and knew how to act.
"I have every damn right to refuse. So respectfully, please fuck off." Gramps demanded.
"Is that so? You refuse the invitation?" The voice felt incredulous.
"Yeah, you heard that right. We're not going anywhere with you, or your boss." Gramps's voice carried a sense of finality.
"..."
A tense silence followed. Martin, who was fearing for his life, was staring intently at the door, trying to figure out what would happen next.
And suddenly, a loud "bang" was heard on their door as the man outside seemed to have attempted to break into their house. This attempt, although unsuccessful, instantly jolted Martin to his senses.
"Fine. Suit yourself." The screechy voice echoed with malice before the footsteps retreated.
Gramps waited intently for the sound of footsteps to fade completely before breathing a huge sigh of relief.
He turned back to Martin.
"Martin, pack your bags. We're leaving."
Martin nodded curtly, his attitude 10 minutes ago having seemingly disappeared after that nerve-wrecking encounter.
Picking up the plastic bag that Gramps had gotten the bread in the morning from, he quickly stuffed 2 dirty towels inside.
"It's not like we had much to pack into the bags anyway."
"Gramps, I'm done."
"Good, we leave now." Gramps stood up, turned toward the door, and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob.
And that was when it happened.
BOOM!!!
The door was oblitherated.
And then Martin blacked out.