Skip to main content

Giving Shit

By eight o'clock Edward Julian Watson had slept off his plane ride and he had watched The Facts of Life. When 227 started, Edward Julian Watson decided he did not want to sit at home for the night.
No, not at all, he thought.
He drove his blue Datsun over to Maple Street and called on Becki.
The negro woman, who owned the house, opened the door and said, "No visitors allowed upstairs after nine pee emm." She went upstairs herself to inform Becki of her visitor, raising her green skirts and leaving the door closed on Edward Julian Watson.

"It is going to be hot tomorrow." Edward Julian Watson made small talk with Becki.
But he was thinking of other things. Like about the lunch he was having with his mother the next day. And how much he did not want to go.
And Becki was sitting on the porch next to him just sighing. "Edward...I tell you all the time I avoid weather reports, so I can wake-up each day surprised. Why do you insist on telling me this news all the time?"
And although he did not care for the tone in Becki's voice, he asked her anyway," Would you like to come to lunch with Mother and I again tomorrow?"
"Alright," Becki said, "but can we go get coffee now?"
Edward Julian Watson was suddenly tired again. He looked up to the night sky. He thought the clouds surrounding the half moon looked like a witch and her one eye.
He sighed. "All right."

"You remember Becki, Mother." Edward Julian Watson let Becki slide into the booth first.
Becki rolled her eyes at Ms. Watson. "Lillian, I have brought you a book. I think you will like it."
And Becki did an almost-fantastic job of keeping Edward Julian Watson's mother occupied. That is, until they were waiting for the bill. His mother suddenly turned on him. "Edward, you were joking about selling the television business, I would assume?"
"No, Mother. I am not joking."
"This is just another ridiculous idea-"
"Mother, you have no say in the matter-"
"I have plenty of say. My money is what got you started in the television business. And a lot of it."
"I do not recall you signing anything." Edward Julian Watson was almost sneering at his mother.
"Just your life insurance policies, do not forget those, Edward." Lillian replied.



Comments

The Juicer said…
A blog with a differece.

Very cool :)
mig bardsley said…
It sounds as though Edward Julien needs to look out!
Queenie said…
You will need to yell it louder, if you want him to pay attention.
:)

Q

Popular posts from this blog

The Village Itself

Across the road from my home is an apartment building. It is made of brown brick and has three stories. It also has plenty of windows I often forget about while I go about my daily and nightly routines. I also forget my curtains are white, lacey and see-through scraps purchased from an aisle in Wal-Mart. Fifteen apartments. That may all house people with binoculars. It was the muggiest night this past summer had owned. Brenda was down for a visit and when she comes, it usually means a night spent over on my couch for her. Brenda lives in another town. It was one in the morning, no sleep to be found between the two us. We sat slouched on my front porch trying to capture the occasional breeze offered, sucking it deep into our lungs, praying it would cool us down. Our glasses of Pepsi sweated warning us how warm the drink would taste in our mouths. "Tilly! Tilly!" the shout sat our spines straight as we looked across the street to the where the sound was coming fr...

Rosy Cheeks

My son's circle and lined wall, created with the permanent red marker, became something he liked to show-off. I guess the other kids who come here liked it, too.   I guess he wanted to show-off more. That is one of the many hypothesis I have about how the Map of Africa came to be. I just keep hoping my kid is some kind of odd little genius.  On the morning I discovered the map of Africa, I was not speechless and I could breathe. "What is this?" I demanded. And loudly. My son shrugged his shoulders. "I like it. It's nice. Took a long time." He had chipped paint off the wall. His walls are white. That morning, it was discovered his room used to be beige.   And it was starting to look like a room in an abandoned house. I thought to myself that maybe this look would be the in thing  20 years from now and he could make millions. He could be a visionary. It was a good enough excuse for me to leave the room. I used it...

..What Are You Waiting For?

She had a real calm smile; it took its time creeping up into her eyes. And there she was looking up at me. She was sitting, right down there on the sidewalk, up against the wall of the bank. Her hand was wrapped around a red pen; buried into a magazine. And I was walking by her. Her eyes were brown. I did not smile back at her. One can never be too sure about anyone who is downtown. A few days later; it was grey and chilly, and I saw her again. With the same simple smile; this time growing into recognition. She stood just inside the entrance way of the video store, ducked, despite the fact she was barley five feet tall and the doorway was at least ten. Funny girl, I thought. Her smile passed by quickly, and then she bent her head down, to the inside of another magazine. She took a long, lipstick drag off a cigarette. "What are you doing?" she asked, when I was passing by her a day and a half later. And I stopped my step, for I was truly stumped. I looked down at my br...