The Man of Legends

by Kenneth C. Johnson

Bronx. Look like it come right out of some movie like Gladiator. Made me nervous, swallowin’ uncomfortable, y’know? I knowed that place definitely couldn’t be my kickin’ spot. I’m thinkin’ Will’s crazy. They ain’t gonna let some sorry ass like me go in there. When I got up right ’cross the street I seen they was about a hundred steps climbin’ up to the entrance from a big ol’ wide sidewalk along Fifth. Even though it’uz freezin’, lotta people’uz sittin’ on the steps, having hot dogs and coffee and shit. I’uz surprised how most of ’em’uz just regular people, not dressed snooty or nothin’. I seen blacks and Latins and Asians all different ages and all mixed in. I even saw a couple of street punks who looked just like me. I felt they’uz scopin’ me out, threatenin’-like, but then a couple just popped their heads, acknowledgin’ me. I nod back subtle, tryin’ to give off like I comed here all the time. Then I climbed up them steps ’tween the people and went through these huge-ass iron doors. When I stepped inside, my guts jumped. It’uz like in-tense! My eyes went wide as a big momma’s ass, and I whispered right out loud, “Whoa, muthafucka!”