Despite attempts to harsh my mellow via
Desi-Gate, he wasn’t successful for long. After nearly being captured as live
bait for the vampire mistress of all things blood sucking and joyless, Hump had
gone underground. According to Steve, he was spending most of his time at the
domicile he actually paid rent at. Also, Hump had started a new romance, one
with a lady who had three kids. This match made in Purgatory was through an old
friend of Hump’s name Mike who's an ex-con, don’t ask.
Apparently she had no job, was living on
unemployment, had three kids, and her boyfriend at the time of their meeting
was married. With Hump as her best prospect, that was sadder than any Greek
Tragedy ever written.
While he had the attitude and ego of Napoleon, he
was closer to Napoleon Dynamite. From what I had surmised, Hump could not
handle an adult encounter of any kind and make it out alive. Therefore, perhaps
dealing with children might be easier for the man.
Via the internet I had found out Polo was engaged
in a seedy affair with a burlesque dancer named Mistress Scorpio Jones. My
reaction to this was a mix of horror and just pure judgement. While I was aware
Polo liked women of the easy, sleazy variety, he was really dragging the dollar
bill through the trailer park here.
I had known Scorpio Jones and was not a fan.
Actually, I found her obnoxious on top of already being fat and ugly. So the
adjective to round this all out would be repulsive. I had known Scorpio Jones,
real name Shiree Jarvis, during my tenure as a burlesque emcee.
Scorpio was a pain in the ass on top of being a
fat ass in every way. More often than not, at venues, she had elaborate
costumes that took up most of the space in the dressing area. When other
performers protested, because God forbid the worthless lard share, she would
get into a screaming match with them. If her routines were ever rock solid I
would say the woman was worthy of her diva-tude. However, she was sink or swim.
When she was a hit, she was amazing. But then there were those times where her
costume broke or she was just a lummox onstage. Add in the rare, sexist male
audience who was unafraid to objectify and fat shame at the same time. If it
were anyone else I would stick up for them. Not this bitch.
As if that werent terrible enough, Scorpio always
ate either cake or KFC before every show. If your waistline expands and you
want to eat away your psych issues instead of taking meds, that is your
business. But when you do a Mama Cass live and in color we want you to choke on
the damn chicken bone, end of discussion.
Scorpio supported her performing career by working in a dungeon as a dominatrix. I
couldn’t understand it, but apparently some men like pain more than others. In
any event, on her facebook page, she listed her idols as Betty Paige and then
several pin up shots of her, rolls of fat going over her bikini and all. For an
instant I admired her confidence, but then she listed the number of men she
slept with at 200. That is when I accessed the nearest barf bag.
As I was digesting this fatty piece of tender
rainbow meat, I came across Benjy. One of the puzzle pieces of that motley
crew, he was nearly six feet tall and had a stream of tattoos. Much like Steve
and I, Benjy was intellectual, dorky to a fault. Educated at the Manhattan
School of Music, Benjy could play sax, clarinet, drums, base, and piano. In his
early 20s, he had toured with Rusch Hour, a “Jewish punk band” that did every
major festival.
However, during his days on the road Benjy’s
personal problems took over. One being heroin. Over the years, Benjy had been
in and out of rehab, jail, and even did a stint at the Salvation Army. During
Christmas, he dazzled the Majors by playing piano, everything from carols he
didn’t sing as a child to Beethovan. Because he was a Jewish kid in an All
Christian program, he earned the nickname Benjy the Jew.
The moniker, which was completely offensive, followed
him into the neighborhood as he gained his footing. Hump called him Benjy the
Jew on the streets to the horror of Steve, Polo, and myself. But Benjy embraced
his identity, and even has signed job log in sheets with it.
“I can’t believe he’s dating that, that thing!” I
exclaimed as Benjy and I were talking on the street. Of course, I had just
submitted a freelance article for one of my many writing jobs and was
completely fried. Benjy was in between shifts as a food runner at Friendly’s
bar. He made his living doing that as well as being Hump’s reluctant and
lackluster assistant.
“I can. Polo likes trashy women.” Benjy informed
me.
“This one is a complete trash pit. Are you aware
she works in a dungeon?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. But here’s the thing you don’t get. You
see, some women are sluts, right? They sleep with everything. Well then there
are men that are sluts. Polo is a man slut.” Benjy explained.
“But why are women slut shamed?” I wondered
aloud.
“Men should be too. I am with you. Polo should be
shamed for banging that water buffalo. Usually they are pretty skanky but they
have never been eligible to fight heavy weight.” Benjy observed.
“How did this even happen?” I asked.
Then the story unfolded. Benjy’s longtime
girlfriend, Kim, a girl who had stuck with him through thick and thin, got
tickets to see her wild ass sister Draca dance burlesque. Kim was nice, sweet,
and normal. She and Benjy were a strange combo, but they had been together for
8 years at this point. Kim had actually met Benjy through Draca, her wild child
sister who had a crush on Benjy but he wasn’t feeling it. Since that time,
Draca had decided she was a lesbian and now had a wife, Jane, who was just as
butch as Benjy if not more.
In any event, Polo had decided to go to the show,
too because he had a night off from the gay bar where he sometimes works as a
bouncer. Don’t ask. Polo went to the show and saw Mistress Scorpio take off her
clothes and decided she was everything his dreams were made of. The two then
went home and had a night of mind blowing sex. Since that time, Polo had not
left the dungeon where she worked. If anything, he was posting pictures on
facebook giving the world a play by play.
“He’s gonna die. I hope he knows he’s gonna die.”
I informed Benjy.
“Oh, not like Hump almost did. By the way, Desi
is majorly pissed. I went into one AA meeting and she was sitting there and
huffing and puffing about Hump. She kept saying he lied to her and even dropped
his full name.” Benjy told me matter of factly. “I was like ‘holy fuck this
bitch is steamed up.’”
“Isn’t that against some rule to be telling me
any of this?” I asked.
“Kind of, but she said his full name and did put
it on her sober stripper blog.” Benjy said as he pulled out his Android,
Googled, and showed me the entry.
“Holy fuck!” I gasped. We both started laughing,
and then I pointed out that there were only 20 spelling errors in the blog.
Benjy shook his head and continued, “At least Mistress
Scorpio has a drinking, drug, and food habit that are still killing her and is
a generalized cunt that isn’t robbing everyone of their fun. Give me that Jenny
Craig fail over Desi any day.”
“Well he pissed me off so much I hope the fucking
encounter gave him syphillis.” I told Benjy.
“What did Hump do?”
“He was himself.”
“Eh, don’t get mad at him. That woman and her
three kids are kicking his ass.”
“Good.” I stated. Then Friendly called to Benjy
that there was work to be done. Off my pal went.
Just then my phone pinged. It was a text from
Jake Judy. Our history had been rather complicated, and to say things were a
little interesting or always had been was an understatement. As of late, the
next chapter had begun. In my dreams, I was hoping to be the next Mrs. Judy.
The catch was, his wife had to be eliminated.
It’s not like it sounds trust me. Just hear me
out.
Jake Judy and I had a complex history that went
back years. It was complicated. Yes, complicated. First we were childhood
friends. Although the Judy family lived one town over, they were in our
neighborhood once a week visiting their cousins, the Davis’s.
Karen Davis was a shit starter as a child. There
was an incident where my sister Skipper had a bunch of patches on her back
pack. As a first grader, her obsessions were Barbie, Hello Kitty, and Kung Fu.
While it was a mish mash of things, that is what the petite, strawberry blonde
sprite loved. In any event, Karen Davis was Skipper’s friendemy.
So she ripped a Hello Kitty patch off my sister’s
book bag. Crying, my sister turned around on the bus. Karen blamed George
Welles. A chubby red head with freckles and a pigeon toed gait, he was more The
Pillsbury Doughboy than hardened criminal and woman oppressor. But Skipper was
afraid because he was twice her size. So she enlisted me. As a third grader, I
spit on him and hit him with my backpack.
George, upset, got his older brother Bobby
involved. More slight and built like a bean pole, he looked nothing like his
younger sibling. At first glance I had a feeling they might have even had
different fathers. But Bobby Wells and I soon found ourselves locking horns.
The grade school skirmish included a Fort Necessity made of back packs and pencils
used as projectiles. Finally, our burned out beatnik bus driver, Chicken, who
played oldies and probably had an alcohol problem, had enough. Frustrated, he
pulled over the bus until the conflict cooled.
The next day, Mr. Byrd, our principal looked at us
through his thick glasses. He explained, “There are two sides to every story.”
Bobby and I explained that we got involved
because our younger half was being bullied, we really didn’t know what the hell
was going on. Mr. Byrd calmly said, “They are lucky to have you, but in order
to get this solved I need the older brother and sister to step out.”
Then the truth unfolded. Karen Davis had created
this whole mess.
Jake Judy was the cousin. An awkward kid, he was
a year ahead of me in school. A wrestling star one district over, Jake had
dreams of going to one of the military academies, specifically Air Force. As a
student, Jake was also a stand out when it came to math and science. Socially,
he was an odd ball.
Jake’s dad on the other hand was very outgoing. A
former college track star who still ran local road races, Jack Judy had a
physique most working dads would die for. However, during his school days Jack
didn’t pound the books like he pounded the pavement, so he was forced to take a
job working for UPS. Jack was a nice guy and well-liked by everyone on his
route. As a matter of fact, he and my mom hit it off when it was revealed Mr.
Judy ran cross country with my father.
Both were track stars in high school. My father,
who was a year ahead of him, was scouted by West Point. However, it was during
the Vietnam War and my dad had no interest in being blown up. Although my dad
and Mr. Judy were contemporaries, he always regarded Jack Judy as a “play
baby.” Then again, my dad worked two jobs seven days a week. Everyone was a
play baby in comparison.
Mr. Judy enjoyed his job, but a tad too much.
Translated, he was all too eager to make house calls to some of the women on
his route. He had multiple who continuously enjoyed packages several times a week,
hint hint, and his truck was always auspiciously parked out front of the same
three houses. Yes, Mr. Judy was a “cat around” as my mother would say.
Mrs. Judy was a nice lady though, quite sweet and
a stay at home mom. Although she wasn’t a knock out, she was personable and
long suffering, putting up with her philandering husband. She went through
phases where she pretended she didn’t know, then she threw him out, and of
course there was counseling. Finally, one day she snapped and threw his clothes
on the lawn……
Jake was not like his father at all. More or
less, he was quiet. Always rocking a Pirates hat, Jake wore his hair in his
eyes. An admitted non-reader, Jake was a gifted math student and dreamed of
being an engineer. In sports, Jake excelled as a wrestler, winning local and
state titles. At one time, he had also been nationally ranked. Jake’s dream was
to attend Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. After high school he did just
that.
Here and there, I kept track of Jake and his
family. His father, who rented an apartment once the divorce was finalized,
informed my mom that Jake hated Air Force. Then in the next breath he was
captain of their wrestling squad. Of course there was the update where Jake was
graduating and did not want to go to Iraq or Afghanistan. This threw me for a
loop. It’s like being a lifeguard and not wanting to get into the pool.
Jake then dropped me a line when he married his
wife Jaci. Apparently, the two had met at Air Force and had been college
sweethearts. Much like his mother, she wasn’t terribly beautiful but seemed
nice. I went to her facebook. There were people remarking that she didn’t let
her platoon swear and punished them when she did. Jake had married the fun
police.
Then again, it struck me as weird that Jake was
getting married at all because his woman skills were a big zero. Yes, Jake was
an oddball. When we were little, he often tapped me on the shoulder and ran
away. Looking back, this was a stunt to get my attention but it more or less
annoyed me. Jake also tried to ask me stupid questions about his summer reading
knowing I was a supreme dork and loved books. I would answer his questions and
of course the entire time he would stare into space. Once I suggested he
actually read the book. This was an idea unheard of.
Of course add in that Jake had borrowed a pen of
mine once for some reason. Next thing I know he’s knocking on my door. My
mother answered. There was the awkward, brown haired lad with a Pittsburgh
Steeler’s hat on. He said, “Mrs. Brucker, I borrowed a pen from April and I
lost it. So I got her a new one.”
“Thank you, Jake. I will be sure that she gets
it.” My mom replied trying to search for words.
Standing on the top of the landing, witnessing
this exchange, I thought it was the odd just like everything else Jake did. “What
was that?” I remembered asking my mom.
“What in God’s name makes that boy think he has a
chance with my daughter?” My mother asked, throwing the question out.
“What are you talking about?” Now I was confused.
“That boy really likes you. But he’s too short.”
My mom informed me making a declarative statement but then dismissing it. Of
course nevermind that she was barely five feet tall herself.
“Mom, he’s weird. He doesn’t like me. Guys don’t
talk to me.” I said, filling my mother in on the fact her daughter was the Dork
Queen. High school musical, public access television, and then add in local
paper and literary magazine don’t exactly put you on the list for the best
parties.
“Sweetie, he likes you. Boys like you. They are
scared of you because you are smart.”
“Mom, they only want girls who put out.”
“Eh, but those girls get old. You also scare them
because you are sort of aggressive.” My mother said. “Stop biting their heads
off so much. No man wants a man hater.”
“But you were a member of NOW in college.”
“Yes, and then my boobs started to sag and I
wanted my bra back. Saggy boobs makes a screaming woman even uglier.” She fired
back and then exited.
File under priceless.
I hadnt thought of Jake until I did a show in the
city and he popped up. At this point, Jake had left the service. He was living
in Inglewood working as a civil engineer. Harriet, his sister, was a doctor and
engaged to the son of a Jordanian diplomat. As for the youngest, Marga, she had
dropped out of college and was living in an apartment with her boyfriend
“trying to find herself.”
When I brought up Jaci and the fact he had gotten
married just because it was the last update, Jake made a face like I had told
him the test results had come back positive. His wedding ring was missing in
action. It appeared Jake and Jack Judy were more alike than I originally
thought. My mother even echoed with the sentiment, “He’s a cat around off the
old block. Watch out, there might be a black sedan slowing down with a bullet
coming out of the window in your near future.”
Despite my mom’s warnings, I had other plans.
Jake and I were calling, chatting, and texting on the regular. He wanted to
know if I wanted to catch coffee at some point. As the conversations got
deeper, I said yes.
We got together. At that point, Jake, who had
grown into a handsome man with chestnut hair and a broad smile, told me his
tale of woe. His wife, Jaci, had been a fun loving girl upon first meeting.
Like him, she was a math and science whiz. However, she was always “down with
Jesus” as Jake explained.
Jaci came from a family in Northern California
with a father who was a lumberjack and a mother who was morbidly obese. Her
parents had met in high school and got married, never going to college. Jaci’s
oldest sister got pregnant in high school, dropped out, and was dumped by the
teen dad who would later turn into the dead beat dad. Her second sister joined
the army and did well for herself. The third sister was a lesbian, which cause
Ma and Pa to disown her. And then there was Jaci.
She studied hard and got into Air Force
determined to make something of herself. In her mountain church in the Ozarks
as a child she had gotten the message. As an adult, she had been religious.
During her cadet days, she punished the plebes under her for swearing and other
ungodly language. Now she wanted to become a minister. Jaci attended divinity
school at Yale, and God spoke to her. Translated, she had to be pure renewing
her virginity. This meant no more sex with Jake.
Jaci explained to Jake that “Even Abraham had a
concubine. Where do you think Islam comes from?” So as she renewed herself for
God, Jake was welcome to have as many concubines as need be as long as there
was no emotional attachment. The story seemed flat out insane but I had heard
crazier be true, and I had grown up in an area with religious cults. Plus Jake
Judy in my experience did not lie.
As we chatted into the night my heart flew. I
really liked Jake. During the IM, he was talking about being “So sick of Jaci
that I just want to leave. Fuck her, fuck her God, and fuck her faith. I am
getting a Goddam concubine and leaving her ass.”
“Sounds like a real drip.” I said. Then Jake
signed off. Apparently Jaci walked in the room and he didn’t want the drama.
During our next outing, dinner and a movie, Jake
confided in me about why he had left the Air Force. Apparently, he had been on
an Air Craft carrier during his time as an officer, and had gotten sea sick. I
remember thinking how on one hand he sounded like a wimp, but I also knew
through experience, as someone gets sea sick, that it’s a real joy kill.
After that date, Jake kissed me. It was a long,
thrilling, forbidden kiss. An hour later, I found myself facebook stalking Jaci
Judy. Not saying I am proud of the low road I took, but I was a woman in love.
Jaci no doubt was something else. Inside an army base where she was apparently
visiting her uncle she had on a skimpy little number and was posing
seductively. Then there were the weird Bible quotes. After which she tagged
over 100 photos of her husband in a day, only three of which he was actually
in. One was even of a washing machine. Wow, this woman was nuts. Jake had to
get away and fast.
The next morning, after paying my rent, I saw
Steve outside The Club. Sucking down a cigarette, this spider web tattoo in the
inside of his elbow, he straightened his arm.
“Rough morning, Sir Steve?” I asked.
“You have
no idea. I am waiting for food for this establishment. Hump is upstairs doing a
remodeling job. Benjy is supposed to be helping him and is late. Hump insists I
didn’t order enough spackle or whatever the fuck he throws down.” Steve said in
an agitated tone as his puffed his cigarette.
“What the hell is spackle?”
“Hell if I know. And Polo is in love with a
psychotic wildebeest who works in a dungeon. What about you? How is the
wonderful world of April Brucker?”
“Nothing that exciting.” I replied. “Except I saw
Polo’s picture with his new squeeze.”
“I hope he hides his food because that bitch is
gonna eat him outta house and home.” Steve snipped.
“What about Hump? Shouldn’t he be minding his new
stepchildren?” I asked.
“Oh that mess. The girlfriend of some ex-con Hump
knows fixed them up. It was one bad date.” Steve told me.
“Dear God.” I uttered.
Just then Benjy arrived. Taking center stage, he
announced, “Listen, Lady and Gent! I apologize for my tardiness in this
endeavor! Kim and I had a huge fight last evening and he had makeup sex for
several hours. We then had a cuddling session where I fell asleep and actually
strangled her. She got scared, tried to call the cops, and then told me this is
the third time I have tried to strangle her in my sleep. So I promised her I
would go into a sleep study, and then we had even more makeup sex-“
As Benjy rattled off his night Steve put his hand
up to stop the disaster. “Just go upstairs. Hump is pissed off enough.” Steve
informed him, exasperated.
“If he
gives you shit remind him that he stuck his dick in Desi.” I replied.
“Oh I will if you don’t. That girl is annoying
and ugly.” Steve opined. “I was sitting next to her and this writer’s thing and
she just kept talking about this woman who she took in that tried to burn her
house down and I was looking out the window. Jesus fuck, she’s so mental she
would drive anyone to commit arson.”
Just then my phone pinged. Jake. I texted back.
He texted back. “And who is she texting?” Benjy mused.
“No one.” I told them.
“It’s someone.” Benjy insisted looking over my
shoulder. Then aloud read, “Your wife seems like a crazy bitch.”
“It’s not what it sounds like.” Then the story
came out. Yes, I was dating a semi-married man. It was complicated.
“Wow.” Steve said as he lit another cigarette and
was simply silent. Benjy just started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“As compared to you, Polo is fine with his KFC
eating white trash wafer.” Benjy explained.
Seconds later, Hump thundered down the stairs. “Where
the fuck is the spackle! I told you I needed more spackle!”
“More cowbell!” Benjy exclaimed, referencing the
Christopher Walkin skit on SNL.
“Where the
hell have you been? I told you I needed you an hour ago!” Hump was less than
amused.
“He and Kim were having makeup sex and lost track
of time. Have a heart.” Steve said, trying to add levity to the situation.
Despite his small stature, Hump was huffing and puffing. Although he was over
six feet tall, I felt the fear emanate from Benjy.
“And we were hanging out with Polo last night and
his gal pal. She’s fat and ugly. You should see her.” Benjy offered.
“Polo has
been working all those hours as a bouncer at the gay bar. He needs a girl like
that on his arm. With that mustache people are starting to wonder.” Hump
surmised using logic of the great philosopher Archie Bunker.
My phone pinged. Jake. “Is that your married
boyfriend?” Benjy asked, because he had no filter whatsoever. Steve laughed
again, and Hump turned in my direction curious. I smiled as if my hand had
gotten caught in the cookie jar.
“Look,
stop making it out to be what it’s not. His wife gave herself to Jesus and
won’t sleep with him. She said he can have concubines.” I explained.
“Damn that line is good. Later, I am going to
Friendly’s and am using that.” Steve suggesting, smiling.
Well, maybe she won’t sleep with him because he’s
a fucking dog.” Hump surmised, delivering his findings as if he had gathered
them via university study.
“Hey, at least the last place I stuck my dick didn’t
have a sober stripper blog riddled with spelling errors.” I chided.
“Then don’t make it a classic ‘men are dirt’
moment. You recruited this floating turd ball yourself.” Hump fired back.
Steve just kept laughing, and Benjy kept yelling,
“Zing!” after each insult.
“While I
would love to stick around, I have to go talk to Jake. At least he isn’t going
to make the egregious error of trying to keep me prisoner.”
Egregious. Hump looked confused. “It’s a big
word I know, especially since your knuckles drag so often that they bleed.” I
said, bitch smile flashing all over my face.
I waved and departed. Fuck him.
An hour later, I got a call from Jake’s phone. He
had promised me tickets to the Yankees, so I was stoked. Instead, it was a
female voice. “I don’t want trouble, but I have to know a few things.” She
said.
“Who is this?” I asked puzzled as to what was
going on.
“Are you fucking my husband?!” She asked. It was
a tense whisper, one where the person on the other end of the phone was perhaps
gripping a weapon to either use on themselves or the person on the other end of
the receiver.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Just answer my question.” She commanded.
“Jaci?”
“Yes.”
“Look, he said you were in Divinity School and
found Jesus. Jake insists you let him have concubines.”
There was a silence on the end of the phone. “YOU
ARE A FUCKING LIAR! STAY AWAY FROM MY FUCKING HUSAND OR I WILL KILL YOU, YOU
BITCH!!!!” After that, it was as if the Exorcist entered her body. I hung up
the phone horrified.
As the shock washed over me, I felt a ball of
vomit in my stomach. I was now officially the other woman, the least liked
person in the universe by pretty much everyone. The only people less redeeming
were rapists, murderers, pedophiles, and New York City landlords. I sent Jake
an angry text telling him he could go fuck his wife and then fuck himself. I
was done.
The anger stayed with me mixed with the guilt.
Time and time again, I had my heart broken. At this point in my life, I should
have been used to men and their bullshit. To clear my head, I found myself at
Hudson River Park. My social media lit up on my phone. Jake announced that he
and his wife were “stronger than ever” which made me want to barf. Everyone had
been correct, especially Hump. God I hated my life.
I sat on the bench and tears rolled down my
cheeks. Just then I heard a voice, someone trying to sound like the Hunchback
of Notre Dame whisper in my ear, “Why are you crying, Princess?”
I yelped in utter horror. Turning around, I saw
Hump standing there laughing his head off. Now I was just plain annoyed. As my
face grimaced in plain rage at having my self-pity interrupted, Hump continued
to amuse himself at my expense by laughing even harder.
Finally, when the words came out I asked, “What
the fuck?”
“You were crying and I didn’t want to see you
cry.” Hump replied lighting a cigarette. “A crying woman is one of the most
depressing sites in the world for a man.”
“Let me cry alone.” I commanded. “Besides, Desi
needs your dick in her mouth.”
“Oh, so speaking of dicks it was the married
dickhead you were dating?” Hump guessed. When I didn’t reply, he responded, “I
knew it!”
“I’ll be fine. Desi’s waiting for you.”
“Just stop that now. Stop that shit now. She’s
not here. I’m here with you as your friend. So you can’t be mean to me, okay?”
Hump instructed.
Hump calmly stated, “You all went to college and
might know some big words from books. I didn’t. The words you use go over my
head and there are times you enjoy a laugh at my expense. Steve went to a
thousand colleges, Benjy went to Manhattan School of Music and then you went to
NYU. I barely graduated high school, install air conditioners, and put up dry
wall for a living. So I must be stupid, right?”
“I never said that.” I snapped. Now I was even
more agitated.
“No, but most of you wouldn’t know your way out
of an alley. Steve never has enough supplies for his business. Benjy is my best
friend, but sucks as far as a helper goes. I did a job for a guy and sent Benjy
one day. He put the cabinet in backwards and then the dude demanded his keys
and deposit back. As for you, men suck. Men suck. Maybe it’s because you have
never had an actual man in your life. You have just had these idiots time and
time again and that’s your bad decision. It’s not your shit generalization.”
Hump eloquently stated, delivering a smile of victory.
I said nothing, but continued to sit there
shocked as Hump lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Doesn’t feel good to be
judged so hard now does it?” Hump asked.
“I never meant to….”
“Say facetious things to him…..”
“Facetious is a good word. A big word but a good
word. Where did you learn it?” I asked.
“Anyone can say big words, not just you. But you
must remember, sweetheart, the tongue is the tool of all sin.” Hump cooed,
delivering the final knock out punch. I never realized the man was so well
spoken. He was also absolutely right about everything, from Jake Judy to the
way I judged him.
“What book
is that from? That’s a good quote.” I asked.
“The Bible.” Hump informed me matter of fact. I
sat there even more shocked as he added. “Yes, I know the Bible.”
“I’m sorry I…”
“Apology accepted.”
Just then I looked out on the water. I had
remembered on one of our outings Jake mentioned one reason he didn’t last in
the Air Force was he couldn’t stomach being on an air craft carrier. I
mentioned this to Hump laughing. Hump didn’t laugh back. Instead he just shook
his head and responded, “Your friend is full of shit. Air craft carrier boats
don’t rock.”
“How would you know?” I asked.
Hump said nothing and lit a cigarette. In the
next breath he changed the subject. He asked, “It’s late and I think we are
both hungry. Would you like some dollar pizza, my treat?”
“Sure.” I said.
We ended up yacking it up about life and it
turned out Hump was much more intelligent than I gave him credit for. He knew
all about dogs and revealed that he was a pitbull owner at one point, but had
to give up his dog when his new building wouldn’t let him have pets. As I
chatted with Hump, I felt we connected which was nice. However, it also scared
the living crap out of me. I told myself my senses were off because of all I
had been going through.
Either way, I told myself he was just a friend
like I always had. But in the back of my mind, I suspected this wasn’t all the
universe had in mind for our story.
