Hearin' Things

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The following Monday in class, the teacher had something important to tell us, usually stuff like this weren't important to me.

"There will be a father-daughter dance the Friday after this one, ladies ask your daddies for a dance. Two dollars for two tickets."

Heck no, I ain't asking Donnie to this thing, if my real dad was still alive I would ask him in a heartbeat. The only "dad" I have is Donnie. And if Mom found out, she would force me and Donnie to go. I repeat...heck no!

On our way out of the school, me and Vicki were talking about the dance.

"Going with your dad?" I asked.

"Yep, and it's gonna be fun. Going with Donnie or no?"

"Nope, and y'all can't make me, because there are black, Hispanic, and Asian kids in this school, secondhand embarassment for them, and Donnie's a piece of work to deal with."

"Yeah, he's a human pile of shit."

I laughed.

"It's like every day, I keep hearin' things from him about how the black people are dogs and gangsters, how Asians only work in nail salons and wanna take over the world, and Hispanics only clean houses and smuggle shit including themselves in America. He blames the Japanese for his broken TV."

She laughed.

"It's all just stereotypes, he's gonna think that everything he sees on the news is true. Why did your mom marry him anyway?"

"Because she thought he was nice, he's not."

"I told you if he hurts you, I'll find a way to help."

"I know, you say it and Buddy says it too, I'm ok."

As we got on the sidewalk, Donnie pulled over beside us.

"Hey Birdie got off work early today. Wanna ride in the truck?"

"No thanks, I wanna walk home."

I kept walking but Donnie kept following us.

"Pretend you don't see em Vick."

We kept walking for a minute, Donnie trailing behind us until he snapped, he pulled in front of us on the sidewalk and slammed on his brakes.

"Get in this truck, both of yinz, now!"

We got in the truck, me on the passenger side and Vicki in the back.

"Ain't no sense in me trailin' behind y'all."

"You chose to trail behind us like a priest in a white van while I wanted to walk home."

"I wanted you to save your strength so you can help your mother make dinner tonight, I requested pork chops, homemade mashed taters, and canned corn."

"Dessert?"

"No dessert, unless you wanna make it, your mama bought a box of chocolate cake mix when she went grocery shoppin' yesterday evenin'."

"Chocolate cake won't hurt."

"Anything interesting happen today Mr. Barksdale?" Vicki asked.

He chuckled.

"Yeah, you better believe it too. I delivered food to this convenient store, family owned by Indians, not the savages with the feathers in their hair, the Indians with the phone scammer accent and uh...spicy rice lookin' shit, anyhow, I couldn't help but notice the prices in their inventory, almost two times as much as the American stores have, like $2.50 for each soda beverage in the freezers, that's bullshit. Wish they could they take their prices to their own damn country...and I was always thinkin' the Jews were the greedy ones."

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