... ..prince ....January 24, 2004   The loin was tasty, but toxic.  So there I lay upon my bed, recovering from petulant pork syndrome, when the doorbell rang. "Go away," I yelled. The doorbell rang again. "Open the goddam door, man.  It's cold as a witch's tit out here." The voice belonged to my young friend and occasional student, Geoff;Don:Rick! Jefferson.  I slid from my sickbed, stumbled to the front door, and peeked through its small window.  I could see the top of Jeff's unsculpted afro.  In his arms was a baby.  I opened the door. "Man, what the fuck is wrong wit'chew?  You whiter than David Duke."  Jeff stomped his ridiculously large, half-strung Nike high-tops on the porch tile.  He looked at me as though he were a blackbird and I was Suzanne Pleshette.  "Come in, Jeff.  I've been sick.  Food poisoning, I think.  Who's your friend?" I hadn't seen the boy in several months and he had grown a couple of inches.  Through the closing door I saw an empty stroller. "This here's my baby brother.  Name is Ampersand.  I was showing him the neighborhood, you know, giving him a taste of the great outdoors.  I figured you'd want to see him." "Indeed, " I replied.  "Hand him to me while you take off your coat.  How do you spell his name?" " &." "Like the Artist Formerly Known As?" "Man, I think you still sick, ravin' like a lunatic and shit.  What the hell you talkin' bout?" "You know...Prince.  Is your mother a big Prince fan?"  Jeff threw his coat on a chair and grinned.  "My mother never leaves no prints.  She all the time wears gloves." previous..|..current..|..archives..|..1st quarter index..|..next

©  2004 by the beastmaster