Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“No. I don’t want to come into work today and slang some guts. I want the money though. Can I just file some paperwork or some shit? If I get a papercut, maybe I can apply for worker’s comp.”
“I’m not callin’ you about work, asshole. I’m callin’ because English is having an outside dinner party next week, and we wanted to invite you, before I forget. I know how busy you get, runnin’ around smokin’, drinkin’ and screwin’ different women every night of the week and all.”
“You sound jealous!” He cackled.
“Jealous? Why would I want to end up being the seventy-year-old in the bar that women complain about hittin’ on them, trying to pick them up after popping a Viagra pill? That’s exactly where you’re headed. Receding hairline, run-down church shoes, pot belly and all. Single and alone.”
“Ain’t my fault you decided to tie yourself to just one vagina for the rest of ya life. I tried to stop you, but you were too far gone. English is havin’ a tea pah-tee, you say?” Legend said in a faux British accent, then burst out laughing. “Will she have Earl Grey, my good man? If not, what the bloody hell?!”
He heard a loud groan on the other end of the line, and all that did was stoke his fires of amusement.
“It’s just a nice get together. Family and friends. A way to end the summer.”
“That’s called a picnic. No need to call it an outside dinner party. Try and fancy it up. So, English asked me to come, huh? She misses a mothafucka,” he stated smugly as he jammed his hand down the front of his pants. “I knew she loved me. She can’t get enough of me.”
“You’re not her favorite person, Legend. She just tolerates you. She thinks you’re batshit crazy. I refused to lie to her, so I didn’t disagree. In fact, we looked up the word insane, and there was your picture.”
“Man, you’re outta your mind. Your woman loves tha fuck outta me, man. In fact, had she met me first, you’d be the one gettin’ an invitation to her little funky ass shindig, and we’d have ’bout three or fo’ babies right now. You must not be layin’ that pipe right, ’cause a mothafucka like me would keep her ass knocked up, twenty-four-seven, ya hear? Back-to-motherfuckin’ back. Consecutive like a prison sentence! BAM BAM BAM!!! Look at all dem babies! Gotdamn!” He hooted and hollered, laughing his ass off.
He always enjoyed how irate Axel would get when he’d say things like that about English. He didn’t mean the majority of them, but Axel was so easily annoyed about such things, it was hard to resist. It made his day.
“You keep fuckin’ around, saying shit like that, and see what happens. The only BAM! BAM! BAM! Will be from my gun jammed in your ass. Not everything is a joke.”
“…You’re right. But your face is. You look like Janice from the Muppets.”
“Are you coming or not? It’s being catered, so she wants to know how many people will be there.”
“I can come through. Should I bring anything? Like some actual real fun and excitement? All English does is talk about old, musty ass books, and your idea of fun is finding a missing eyeball embedded in a mattress. Y’all some boring asses…’specially since my godson arrived. You takin’ this father shit too far,” Legend teased.
“Just bring yourself, and some class. I know the last request is a tall order.”
Axel abruptly ended the call, causing Legend to roar with laughter.
He turned back to the computer, burped, and set his beer down. After cracking his knuckles. He typed in a few local community college names and continued his research.
Maybe Melanie was right. My little sister sometimes is, every now and again. She probably knows me better than anyone, besides Axel and Caspian. Maybe I should at least look into getting into a college, or some type of program. Let me see what types of majors they have. There might be somethin’ for a mothafucka like me after all…
…A few days later
Legend coughed into his pillow, then turned to the other side of his bed. As he flung the sheets off his body, the lingering scent of dragon blood incense filled his nostrils. He sat up, reached for the cigar he’d started smoking earlier and lit it again, taking a drag.
Another damn dream…
This was the fourth dream he’d had of his late history teacher. Mrs. Florence. She didn’t say anything. She just sat there, staring in disdain. He managed to free himself from the nightmare, and wake up. Axel had seen her first in his dreams, and then, she’d come to him.
He and Axel had gone to school together, and Ms. Florence was their history teacher—his favorite. Something about her made the students listen. He loved her, and didn’t realize how he felt about her until she was dead. When she died, he fell to his knees and cried. He hadn’t cried like that about anyone since…