over, I sat down and tried to think of one happy thought. Tertiary leprosy, I thought. I can be grateful I don’t have tertiary leprosy.
9:45 p.m. A busy day. Five weddings and two adore ceremonies. My tips have gone way up since Toby’s been so emotionally on edge (and, embarrassingly, a bit weepy). Clients must assume the darky is sniffling at their happiness. I appreciate the extra income and have noted it in the column headed “Reasons Not To Commit Suicide.” So far, my list is not very compelling.
WEDNESDAY, July 13 – Carlyle and I have decided to expel Stoney from the Upts gang. We have notified her of this decision via official e-mail. We also informed her that she is no longer permitted to wear brown. Knowing Carlyle, he could not have been the brains behind the balloon assault. Therefore, I’ve decided to overlook his participation in that outrage. I’ve also persuaded him that the vandal currently sabotaging Upts graffiti could only be gang turncoat Stoney Holt. For these treacherous acts, Carlyle has vowed to exact a terrible revenge.
Carlyle continues to be the blackest of Winnemucca’s faux Negroes. Apparently Dr. Quentina Freep regards his impulse toward race reversal as the least alarming of his numerous mental disturbances. She even commiserates with his desire to be black. After all, what has being white ever done for him? She advised his foster parents to play it cool and wait for “this phase” to pass. In the meantime, she has lent them a cookbook of soul food recipes. I hope it’s a good one. Carlyle has invited Toby over for dinner tomorrow tonight.
THURSDAY, July 14 – New depths of despair. This morning I received a copy of a libelous e-mail that “Heart of Stone” had sent to Uma. It read: “Yo Uma! You may be interested to know that a friend of yours (a certain N.W.) has a serious problem with chronic bed-wetting and thumb sucking. The big baby told me he has the hots for you. –A friend.”
Damn. I can’t believe she did that. She must really hate my guts. Sure, we had a disagreement, some hot words were exchanged, but I never thought she’d stoop that low. I mean, we were friends for a long time. I was the victim of a fair amount of social ostracism just from hanging out with her. Now, I don’t know what to think. Things are really spinning out of control around here. At least now I have Uma’s e-mail address, not that it does me much good. I wonder who Stoney got it from?
Well, I can never face Uma again–that’s for sure. Don’t know what my alternatives are. Can’t really think straight at the moment.
11:35 p.m. Well, I made it through the day. Still among the living and non-incarcerated. Toby saw Stoney downtown on his way to a wedding. She was dressed entirely in brown. Now I know what the expression “saw red” means. My entire field of vision turned blood red when I spotted her. Swept by very violent impulses such as have landed many hapless dudes on Death Row. Good thing Toby’s tight clothes limit his pocket capacity. Even access to a sharp pencil could be dangerous when that chick is encountered. As it was, we looked the other way and ignored each other.
Didn’t feel very social, but went to Carlyle’s house for dinner. Another rude shock. The Mrs. Greene who is his latest foster mom is the very same Mrs. Greene who was my third grade teacher. Somehow I never made the connection. Of all my teachers back then she’s the one I would have picked to be my mom. Now Carlyle’s living out my childhood fantasy. She looked exactly the same and seemed to recognize me despite my Tobification. She said “Hi, Noel!” and gave me a very motherly hug. She even exuded that nice chalky vanilla smell like The Ideal Mother. Mr. Greene was there too and seemed equally nice. He used to be a software engineer, but now repairs slot machines at all the casinos in town. Hard to believe he goes to bed every night with Mrs. Greene and probably fools around with her
9:45 p.m. A busy day. Five weddings and two adore ceremonies. My tips have gone way up since Toby’s been so emotionally on edge (and, embarrassingly, a bit weepy). Clients must assume the darky is sniffling at their happiness. I appreciate the extra income and have noted it in the column headed “Reasons Not To Commit Suicide.” So far, my list is not very compelling.
WEDNESDAY, July 13 – Carlyle and I have decided to expel Stoney from the Upts gang. We have notified her of this decision via official e-mail. We also informed her that she is no longer permitted to wear brown. Knowing Carlyle, he could not have been the brains behind the balloon assault. Therefore, I’ve decided to overlook his participation in that outrage. I’ve also persuaded him that the vandal currently sabotaging Upts graffiti could only be gang turncoat Stoney Holt. For these treacherous acts, Carlyle has vowed to exact a terrible revenge.
Carlyle continues to be the blackest of Winnemucca’s faux Negroes. Apparently Dr. Quentina Freep regards his impulse toward race reversal as the least alarming of his numerous mental disturbances. She even commiserates with his desire to be black. After all, what has being white ever done for him? She advised his foster parents to play it cool and wait for “this phase” to pass. In the meantime, she has lent them a cookbook of soul food recipes. I hope it’s a good one. Carlyle has invited Toby over for dinner tomorrow tonight.
THURSDAY, July 14 – New depths of despair. This morning I received a copy of a libelous e-mail that “Heart of Stone” had sent to Uma. It read: “Yo Uma! You may be interested to know that a friend of yours (a certain N.W.) has a serious problem with chronic bed-wetting and thumb sucking. The big baby told me he has the hots for you. –A friend.”
Damn. I can’t believe she did that. She must really hate my guts. Sure, we had a disagreement, some hot words were exchanged, but I never thought she’d stoop that low. I mean, we were friends for a long time. I was the victim of a fair amount of social ostracism just from hanging out with her. Now, I don’t know what to think. Things are really spinning out of control around here. At least now I have Uma’s e-mail address, not that it does me much good. I wonder who Stoney got it from?
Well, I can never face Uma again–that’s for sure. Don’t know what my alternatives are. Can’t really think straight at the moment.
11:35 p.m. Well, I made it through the day. Still among the living and non-incarcerated. Toby saw Stoney downtown on his way to a wedding. She was dressed entirely in brown. Now I know what the expression “saw red” means. My entire field of vision turned blood red when I spotted her. Swept by very violent impulses such as have landed many hapless dudes on Death Row. Good thing Toby’s tight clothes limit his pocket capacity. Even access to a sharp pencil could be dangerous when that chick is encountered. As it was, we looked the other way and ignored each other.
Didn’t feel very social, but went to Carlyle’s house for dinner. Another rude shock. The Mrs. Greene who is his latest foster mom is the very same Mrs. Greene who was my third grade teacher. Somehow I never made the connection. Of all my teachers back then she’s the one I would have picked to be my mom. Now Carlyle’s living out my childhood fantasy. She looked exactly the same and seemed to recognize me despite my Tobification. She said “Hi, Noel!” and gave me a very motherly hug. She even exuded that nice chalky vanilla smell like The Ideal Mother. Mr. Greene was there too and seemed equally nice. He used to be a software engineer, but now repairs slot machines at all the casinos in town. Hard to believe he goes to bed every night with Mrs. Greene and probably fools around with her
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