Day CCVIII

What Luck

     “Ida na why I twusted im, but Sunday we dint has nathan tadoo, ya na, so I decided ta goes on out da an take a looky see. I took me old lady out da, and when we saw it, da bitch couldn’t stop laffing, man. He hee heee…Ah ha ha ha ha…Oh who who who she went, Oh Ida neva eva wuda thunk I’d see da day somebody dooning yooo!” He mimicked her as he told me the tale.

     “Weally!”

     “Fo weal man, it wuz like she was enjoying it, ya na…so, I don cut da hoe’s ass loose man. Threw haw ass out, dude! Ta tink I wuz even tinking a hooking up wit haw…poimanently, legal an shit, man. I musta bin out my facking mind, man. A bitch is supposed ta has ya bak.”

     “Yea if she don’t, she ain’t da one, man.”

     “Fo real, man.”

     “So wat up?”

     “It’s a facking swamp ona Joisey sho, man. Takes ya two hours ta git da too.”

     “Wow!”

    “Dat mofo told me they wuz developing da site fo condos, an shit, boot it toins out ta has bin a facking lie, man.”

     Soon after the break up with his girl, Trump and company started plans to develop Atlantic City, and the developers paid him a ton of money for his piece of crap, swampy real estate. Indeed a rabbit’s foot up his ass.
It was enough to make me want to light up, and I found my hand reaching for my emergency smoke, but I pulled back. God only knows why some things go well for some, and for others not.