True Grit
REMINGTON GRAVES
I came home from work on a Sunday night to find one of my neighbors walking to and fro and carrying a few boxes. She approached me quickly, after she caught me on her radar and gave me no opportunity to run.
“Do you live around here?”
“I do.”
“My name is Gritella, nice to meet you. I’m sorry I look like a wreck, I’ve been cleaning my condo all day and, well…never mind. You are?”
“Exhausted and ready to throw myself atop my living room couch.”
“Hey, you’re funny. I meant, what’s your name?”
“My name is Alien Vacuum.”
“Nice to meet you, Alien.”
“Say, you mind giving me a hand with a box or two? I promise, they’re not too heavy. I promise I won’t murder you or anything.”
“Well–“
“Oh, c’mon, it won’t kill you. You some kind of musician type or something? All those tattoos, wow. I bet your wife must think they’re sexy.”
“I’m not married.”
“Oh, okay. Any kids?”
“Sheesh, lady.”
“Oh, wow, listen to me…ha, ha, I’m so sorry. You know, my mother always said I had a nose longer than my hair.”
“Good head on her shoulders.”
“So, what do you do?” She said as she walked in front of me through a narrow walkway amidst tall bushes.
“I am a tattoo artist. What about yourself,” I asked feigning interest.
“I have three or four jobs. Depending on your definition of the word job, I guess.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Stop that, sir. You’re kind I can tell.”
“You can tell how?”
“The spirit. The spirit told me just now.”
“Oh, goodness.”
“What?! Don’t do that. What do you mean by that?”
“You’re a nut case.”
“I am offended, Sir.”
“No, you’re not.”
“True, ha, ha. How can you tell.”
“It’s obvious you get it all the time.”
“Oh, I like you, Alien. I can already tell, we are gonna be great friends,” she cackled turning the knob on her front door.
“I should drop these boxes and make a run for the hills.”
“You are hilarious. Oh, my gosh, you should feel blessed I’m letting you in my home.”
“Yeah, blessed is what I feel at this moment,” I said walking in and observing the white walls, the white coffee table, white napkins on the dinner table, white carpet…
“You okay? You look scared or nervous or something.”
“So much white…it’s a bit odd.”
“Really? Why?”
“What are you hiding?”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re a “woman of god” now and you think you were a dirty person, correct?”
“Oh, my word…that’s like…I’m gonna cry. How did you know? I mean, how can you tell? I was addicted to pornography. And my last boyfriend, well, I was crazy about him and I almost did threesomes to make him happy and stuff.”
“Just a lucky guess.”
“I don’t believe in religion, I only believe in–“
“A relationship with your lord and savior Jesus Christ.”
“Are you a Christian also?”
“Not even close.”
“Have you read the Bible?”
“I have.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What did you think?”
“I want my money back–and it was free.”
“Oh, you just need time to feel the spirit work its way in you, that’s all.”
I did my best to get teary-eyed and sat up straight on her white, velvet couch and said,” I didn’t want to say anything but…”
“Yeah?” She said leaning in mouth slightly ajar.
“I do feel something. It started right before you walked up to me.”
“Nooo…really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Woah, describe it to me,” she said biting on her index nail.
“Well,” I said standing up and rubbing my belly, “ I think I need to take a shit.”
“Huh!?”
“Good night, Griselda,” I said closing the door behind me.
“It’s, It’s Grit–“
∞