The Piece

His life had always been a struggle. A lot of his anger stemmed not just from the hardships of poverty, but the ignorance of racism. He was not without his own prejudices, but people like the Irishman up the block really got under his skin. He'd fought hard to be successful, to give his wife and son a better life than the one he had growing up, but time had gotten away from him. His boy, now a man really, spent more time out than home, usually with his new girlfriend. Why hadn't they met her yet? That boy was drifting apart from his parents, and the silence left by his absence was deafening.

Tonight was different, though. As George walked in the front door, he was filled with nervous anticipation, and a burning smell. Was that beans? Again?

“In here, George!” called his wife from the kitchen.

He made his way slowly down the hall, as he had so many nights before. Tonight was a special night, one of those life-changing nights. He remembered the night his father died, and the night he joined the navy. He remembered the night he proposed and the night his wife told him she was pregnant. He remembered their first night in this dilapidated home in Queens, and he expected he'd remember their last night as well, just as he remembered the night they left Harlem.

He watched her waving a newspaper at a smoking pot on the stove. The years had given her as many pounds as it had taken hairs from his head, but she looked lovely in his eyes. Also appealing was an apple pie cooling on the table, certainly a better option that Thursday night's usual meal of fried fish and burnt beans.

“OW!” he yelped as he reached for the pie and a spatula cracked across his knuckles.

“Not until after dinner!” she admonished.

He held his tongue. Any other night, her rebuke would kick off a bout of verbal sparring, shouting not so much for the sake of anger as to break that damned silence. Again, this was a different night, a special night.

“Baby, I think we can go out to dinner tonight,” he boasted, “Maybe I'll take you to that gourmet place you been wanting to try.”

“But you always said it was too expensive; it's not nice to mock me so. Unless...”

He smiled. Fate had indeed forced them to be frugal, but a car accident offered salvation. $3,200.00 didn't seem like much of an insurance settlement at the time, but investing in a dry cleaning business may have been the best possible thing he could have done with the money.

“Profits are through the roof this quarter. Not only are we turning a profit, not only can I pay back the bank loan, but we got enough to move out of this dump! I'm thinking something as far away from the ground as possible; the sky's the limit! How does a deluxe apartment sound?”

She hugged him tight, then broke the embrace and rushed to the drawers. Grabbing a knife, she cut a piece of apple pie and put it on his plate.

Finally!” he said.

Inspirational Hat Tip: Rey.


Blogger b13 said...

Stop it you troublemaker ;)

8/15/2008 12:15 AM  
Blogger b13 said...

Oh, and this sounds like the prequel to The Jeffersons.

8/15/2008 12:18 AM  
Blogger b13 said...

HAHA... just read Rey's and I see what's going on... LOL you guys are too much ;)

8/15/2008 12:25 AM  
Blogger Darrell said...


Meet the Flintstones.

The gentleman in orange with the blue tie, that's the man of the house, Fred. His job at the quarry is demanding, but it pays well. The Flintstone home enjoys all the amenities, such as a pterodactyl record player and a mammoth vacuum. You might say that they're quite the modern stone-age family.

They're from the town of Bedrock, not a metropolis by anyone's standards. Still, the Flintstone family has lived here for generations. Details of the family's ancestry might fill an entire page right out of history.

This evening we'll be out and about with Fred, his wife, and the Rubbles, the family down the street. The Flintstone sedan is roomy enough for everyone to travel comfortably ... and quickly, thanks to the courtesy of Fred's two feet. While making the scene with the Flintstones and their friends, one can be sure of a yabba dabba doo time. Or, at least, a dabba doo time. At the bare minimum a gay old time will be had by all.

8/15/2008 2:16 AM  
Anonymous MCF said...

Reading B13 take 3 comments to figure it out made it ALL worth it. ;-)

8/15/2008 9:32 AM  
Blogger b13 said...

Don't make me delete my own comments ;)

8/15/2008 2:40 PM  
Blogger Rey said...

Awesome. I saw where you were going in the first paragraph but I had to stay with the ride, how you'd drop in the song refs and the show refs. Excellent

8/15/2008 4:00 PM  
Blogger MCF said...

Thanks. I pretty much had my ending song reference first, and worked backwards. :)

8/15/2008 9:03 PM  

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