Friday The Last Work Day Of The Week
Ralph was in his truck, windows down, enjoying the cool evening breeze. Then he heard music. Loud music. From Dorothy’s house.
But not just any music. She was blasting “Pony” by Ginuwine.
Ralph eyes went wide. “Oh no. Hell No, no, no—”
Dorothy came on her porch in “club attire from the early nineties”—a tight fit tracksuit (unzipped dangerously low), skecters shoes, and you wouldn’t believe she had on a different bonnet black and white leopard print one.
She started dancing. On her porch. In broad daylight. Looking directly at his truck.
Ralph called Keisha laughing:
Ralph: “BABY! CODE RED! DOROTHY PORCH!”
Keisha: “What’s is she doing?!”
Ralph: “I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT!”
Keisha came running out and saw Dorothy in mid-dance. Their eyes met.
Dorothy froze like a deer in headlights, then turned around and slapped her butt and started walking inside and tripped over the hammer she left behind from trying to fix her railing.
One of her skecters shaping shoes came off. She left it on the porch with the music still playing.
Keisha walked over, turned off Dorothy’s speaker that was on the porch, picked up the shoe, and knocked on the door.
Keisha: “Ms. Dorothy, you forgot your shoe.”
“Ms. Dorothy, I know you’re there. I can see your bonnet shadow through the blinds.”
“I’m leaving this shoe right here. And I’m also leaving a note with my cousin Tasha’s number. She’s a therapist. You need to call her.”
Dorothy: (from behind the door) “I don’t need therapy! I need Ralph!”
Keisha’s eye twitched.
Keisha: “Bit…..No Ma’am, Ralph has a FAMILY. Two kids. A wife with curves to kill. A 401k. What you NEED is to act your age!”
Dorothy: “Age ain’t nothing but a number little girl!”
Keisha: “That’s what people say when they about to catch a case! You’re fifty-two years old, doing TikTok dances in platform shoes! Your back gonna give out before Ralph ever gives you the time of day!”
Ralph had gotten out of his truck by now and was standing next to Keisha.
Ralph: “Ms. Dorothy, respectfully, I don’t like you like that you gotta stop.”
The door cracked open slightly. One eye and part of a leopard-print bonnet appeared.
Dorothy: “But… we have chemistry.”
Ralph: “No ma’am, what we have is a property line and you keep crossing it.”
Dorothy: “I just want you to notice me!”
Keisha: “NOTICE YOU?!” “Woman, you’ve been engine-revving, hammer-banging, and dancing across your damn porch for three days straight! A blind and deaf man would notice you! Everyone on this street notice you! NASA probably noticed you from one of their satellite in SPACE!”
Dorothy: “So… he does notice me?”
Ralph: “Hell naw. This cannot be real.”
Keisha: “You know what? Mr. Fred!”
Mr. Fred, who had been watching from his porch eating his cheese danish, perked up.
Mr. Fred: “Yeah?”
Keisha: “Can you call her son. The one in Atlanta. Tell him his mama out here acting a fool and needs a wellness check.”
Dorothy: “NO!” “Don’t call Junior! He’ll put me in a home!”
Keisha: “Then get your MIND RIGHT!” “No more revving! No more banging! No more dancing! No more anything that involves my husband, you understand?!”
Dorothy nodded, looking like a scolded child. In her leopard-print bonnet.
Keisha: “And for the love of God, invest in some curtains that aren’t white! Nobody wants to see your shadow show!”
That night, Marcus and Keisha sat with their garage door open, exhausted.
Ralph: “You think she’ll stop?”
Keisha: “Probably not. Women like Dorothy don’t stop. They just… find someone else to do all that crazy stuff to.”
Ralph: “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Sure enough, they looked over at Dorothy’s house. The lights were off, but they could see the glow of a bright blue screen through the window.
She was probably on Amazon, ordering props for her next performance.
Or maybe looking up “how to win a man who’s taken.”
Ralph phone buzzed.
Unknown number: “I’m sorry about today. Tomorrow will be better. I promise. 💕”
He showed Keisha.
She stood up.
Keisha:“That’s it. I’m getting a restraining order.”
Ralph: “HOW baby, we can’t prove anything. She’s technically not doing anything illegal.
Keisha: “Being annoying and delusional should be illegal! Dancing to Ginuwine ‘Pony’ in a bonnet at HER AGE should be ILLEGAL!”
In Dorothy’s window, the laptop screen glow disappeared. The house went completely dark.
But they both knew she was in there.
Planning.
Scheming.
Adjusting her bonnet.
Getting ready for whatever unhinged thing she’d come up with next.
TO BE CONTINUED……..