George was busy printing out lottery tickets as I walked in Fat's.
"These lottery people are crazy!" he exclaimed to me after it had slowed down some.
"Dad always says the lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math," I replied.
George laughed and laughed.
"You know? That is kinda true!" he told me, grinning.
"Do you still see Pookie?" I asked George.
Pookie was George's long time girlfriend. She is the only overweight crack addict I have ever met.
"She in jail," George replied and I felt terrible for asking.
George continued on to tell me his mother has been asking about me. Mrs. Jones, despite her age, is one of the best southern cooks I have ever encountered.
"Tell her I send my love," I told George.
"She will love to hear that."
I finished my coffee and headed home. I love these little routines like going to Fat's everyday. I didn't realize how much I have missed George till we got reacquainted.
2 comments:
Sir:
That is wonderful news on several levels:
1. The happiness you are feeling at being able to "hang out" with your friend again. That is wonderful to hear in your writing.
and
2. That George's mother is also asking about you. She is a very nice woman and a friend as well.
I am quite pleased you have reformed those relationships as they nourish your soul and benefit your mind and spirit.
Perhaps sometime soon, you will go over with George and have dinner with him and his mother.
PipeTobacco
Sounds like George is doing well. I am glad you guys get to visit (-:
I like your Honest Scrap award.
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