Day CLlV

Oh mon!

     I began to sell ladies tops to boutiques, mostly mom and pop, stores. The job was to cold canvass the streets, walking into stores; introducing myself, and making a pitch for my goods. It was cool, I sold them stuff that helped them make money, and in turn I made some too. It was a good business, and so I left the warehouse.

     One day before the holidays I ran into Rich, a Jamaican I used to know in the Air Force, he was standing in front of his shop puffing on a butt.

     “Damn, lookey hea…Rich, is that you, bro?”

     “Hey mon, watta da…damn, an am again, mon.

     “Watcha doing smoking out hea? Thought you quit?”

     “Yea I did mon, but ya na biz will make ya light up. Anyway mon, I don’t want to smoke inside, this shit gits ona merchandize, and dat’s bad fo biz, so I puffs em out hea.”

     “Yea I can digit! So watcha got hea?”

     “Oh mon I met this dude, and he makes these really hot chick’s dresses, mon,” he said as he pointed to his window.

     “So ya gotta sto, uh”

     “No mon, it’s just foda holidays. Then I’ll see if it’s worth sticking around fo, ya na. Da place was empty, and I convinces da landlord to rent it tamee foda holidays.”

    “So how ya doing?”

     “Not bad so fa.”

     He had met Leo, a guy who was making beautiful young ladies' dresses, really glammed up stuff. So Rich, not working at the time, got the idea, found an empty store, and followed up on it.

   “Just for the holidays, uh…Ida na young, man.” The landlord had said.

   “So watta ya got ta lose, mom, it’s only a coupla months. Times are bad, ya want it empty?”

    Rich was always a fast talker, and so he got the landlord to rent it to him. He gave in, if only for the holidays. Rich didn’t glam it up it or anything. He just cleaned it up, washed the windows, and filled it up with the dresses, which he sold for cheap. He couldn’t get enough of them.