Classic rock one shots and imagines [requests closed]

John Fogerty #2

PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU CONTINUE

This is just a quick disclaimer, the n-word is used in this one shot. I have written another period-piece with John based in the 1930s, and the use of the word was used frequently in this time, especially in the deep south where the story takes place. I have used it three times in this one shot, however, it is not intended to offend anyone in any way.  My pure intention is to right a terrible wrong that simply exists in our world. I hate this word with a passion, but I saw no fit way around it if I was to bring attention to the issue at hand. However counterintuitive that may seem, I hope that everyone understands my reasonings behind my actions. 

Read at your own discretion, and please enjoy the story. 

~~~~~~~~~

One day, he lost his shoe. 

As usual, I watched him out the window. He had only made it about half-way down the path, with dust flying and settling in his wake, before an overturned sneaker lay off-centre on the dirt path came into focus. 

I felt mad at him that day. 

There was no real reason behind my anger, it simply existed, and it was strong enough to draw me away from the window. 

I slid my feet into the kitchen and was immediately greeted with the warm smell of hot biscuits. I offered a small smile to Minni, my family's housekeeper, as she came into the kitchen from outside.

"Good afternoon, Miss (Y/N)." She nodded to me. 

"Afternoon, Miss Minni." I replied, moving to sit up on the counter. 

"Get yo tail of the counter," Minni flicked a bunched up hand towel at my leg. "It ain't lady like, nor respectable to be sittin' up there like that."

I laughed mischievously as I slid off the counter, earning a side glare and a shake of the head from her. 

"How are you today?" 

"I'm just fine." She bent down to pull the biscuits from the oven. She set the pan on the stove top, then stepped away to wipe the sweat from her brow. She blew out a small breath of air and started fanning her hand over her face:

"Warm out today."

"Mmm-hmm." I nodded. 

"S'warm yesterday."

"Yes, ma'am, it was."

Minni dropped her hands to her sides and looked up to the clock on the wall. 

"I reckon yo daddy'll be along any minute." She said. "It's 'bout five o'clock. You best go an' meet him."

I leant forward to look at the clock on the wall, confirming her statement. I pushed off the counter and headed toward the screen door. 

"Are you staying for supper, Miss Minni?" I asked. 

"I don't think so, (Y/N)." She sighed. "Cal's gettin' to be a right handful."

"Lord, help us." I smiled. 

"You ain't kiddin'. I'd like to turn that youngin over my checkered apron as many thangs as he's been gettin' into."

Letting out a little chuckle, I pushed myself out the door, down the porch steps, and into the yard. 

Minni has been my family's housekeeper for as long as I can remember. Heaven knows how she keeps up with four children of her own and a two-year-old grandchild only to show up at my house nearly every day of the week. She doesn't have to look over me as much anymore, but I suppose after having to do it for so long, she still finds herself watching the little things I do.