For the first time, I’m re-posting. Will try not to make it a habit, however. There are five mini-chapters and you may visit Grown Folk Tales to get the full story. Hope you enjoy.
Once upon a time, a woman named Desperita met this fine ass man. Oh, he was the shit. Talked shit. Walked shit. Was simply, the shit. Period. Matter of fact, she thought she had a fine enough shape on her almost-forty body and a cute face, so she could be classified as the shit too. They were at their local Piggly Wiggly, which should’ve been a clear sign to Desperita then and there, for reasons that can’t rightly be explained.
Desperita was a good woman of education and acquired things like, a big ass house, where all of her furniture was fully paid for, a modest-priced car, and a fairly nice paycheck, even stocks and bonds before the market sunk a deep hole in her future savings. She had everything except somebody breathing next to her at night. Not even a snotty-nose child sitting across from her at the dinner table. She ate with Will Downing calling out her loneliness from her stereo. Oh, sometimes the pain tuckered in her long and deep. One Friday after work was one such time, when she ran up on Bootleg Man.
“Hey, there. You go right on ahead of me in this line, so you can hurry on home and get off your pretty feet,” he told her, looking at her all up and down, like the wolf did Little Red Riding Hood.
Shit, it didn’t take much to blow her lonely mind, so they got to talking. Matter of fact, they stood in the parking lot damn near half an hour, so the so-called concern he showed for her feet wasn’t worth no more shit than he was but Desperita didn’t reflect on that, even in her educated mind. She was too busy being all impressed with this new fella, who also had him some education, read books like history, philosophy, business and the like. Oh, Bootleg Man had her ’cause she didn’t run up on too many men who read philosophy. She didn’t understand it herself. Shit, she was just waiting for this one to ask for her number.
“You know what? I really enjoyed talking with you,” Bootleg Man told her but had to catch himself from licking his lips when he looked at all her fineness again and the latest model of the Volkswagen Passat she was driving. It was clean inside, which meant she was just as clean at her home he wanted to get inside and lay up in. He liked himself a clean woman, especially one that cleaned up after him while he went to his piece of a job, where he had the habit of cutting a fool and landed himself on the shit list. Any wrong move could send him in the throes of the unemployment line. He was looking out for his future and ole girl looked to be a real soft place to land.
“I really enjoyed you too. I’ll write my cell number on the back of my card.” Desperita scribbled her number on the back and handed her card over to Bootleg Man.
Shit, he was smiling when he got that card and read it. She was a vice-principal at a school for the county. A good paying and secure job, she had. Plus, she was fine. Damn! “I’ll be calling you, Desperita. I usually don’t come in here to shop but I’m glad I did today. Must’ve been fate,” he lied through his phony grin. His ass went in there all the time on foot on account of his car being broke down in his driveway.
Copyright 2011 Totsymae