ARE YOU FREAKY DEAKY Book 1 (Erotica)

30. Retrospect

Five Years Ago...

"Goddamn it! Don't drop my shelf!" I told the short, stocky white boy who worked for Hermit's Furniture store. "I paid a thousand dollars for that case. I need my case. Damn it watch my gahdamn walls!"

He rolled his eyes, mumbling and I rolled mine, bitching. "I don't care about you huffin' and puffin' like you're a Backwood cigar. Listen, man. Set it over there by the living room sofa. What? I paid for the assembly and the delivery, and you're going to give me $75 worth of delivery service

cracker boy now hop to it!"

Jesus!

Good customer service was hard to come by these days, especially when you're black and a woman. And add the third strike for being a black woman.

He looked at me like he wanted to fight.

"Ma'am, it doesn't look right over by your sofa."

The nerve of this creepy asshole! "Do you pay my bills?" I spat nastily.

Ugly with Coke-bottle glasses, the kind that made his eyes look like marbles, he left my shelf alone, wiping off his finger prints with a rag. And he had some big ass fingers. "Well, who would want to?"

I tucked my chin back. "Don't get smart, do you pay my bills?"

"No, Lady!"

My hands rose to my hips the same time my brows rose.

"Watch your tone of voice in my house..."

"I'm grown," he responded. What man argued with a woman?

I started shooting from the hip. "Are you fucking me?"

He gave me the once over, smacked his gum, rolled his beady eyes, sashayed over to his power drill by the end table and said, "I don't do fish," more sassily than Halle Berry in Cat Woman.

"Well don't tell me what looks good in my house. As a matter of fact get out, your services are terminated, thanks for bringing my shelf."

"What about my tip?"

I snatched up my huge purse, took out my wallet, turned my back to him so he couldn't see me shuffling through my cash.

I was funny about my money, and when I was done scribbling with my pen I turned, smiled, walked up to him andhanded him a note.

He read it out loud. "Tip for the day, I need to get some Oxy pads to terminate the oily pimples all over my face. What is this? I said a tip, not a tip."

"Ok, you can leave now." I was pushing him out the door, and his body odor wasn't making things civil, either. "You sound Chinese, same thang, same thang," I went on, trying to sound Asian.

"...Repeating the same things over and over, I asked for a tip, not a tip, confusing me, guy. Have a nice day!"

I gave him a huge shove and slammed

the door behind him.

He called me a "Bitch," and left after cursing through my door for about thirty seconds.

Anyways, I didn't feel up to all that today.

White people were crazy anyways.

Yea, baby.