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“I’m gettin’ ready to head over to your Aunt Brenda’s house to help finish up cooking. Everyone’s meeting over there to exchange gifts and have breakfast.”
“I thought e’eryone usually got together for Christmas dinner?”
“This year we decided to have a breakfast instead of dinner, so this way everyone gets to have the rest of the day with their own families. And we won’t have to worry about anyone getting drunk. ’Cause you know how your aunts and uncles get when there’s booze around.”
I laugh, knowin’ them lushes would drink toilet water, if it’d get ’em drunk. “Ma, you know like I do, breakfast or not, they gonna come strapped wit’ flasks.”
She laughs. “And you’re probably right. But I got something for all their asses. I’m gonna be checking bags, coats, and pocketbooks as everyone comes through the door, and confiscating anything that contains alcohol in it.”
I join in her laughter. “Sounds like it’s gonna be a full house.”
“You got that right; close to forty. Your cousin Dana and her family are here from Hawaii. And Brian and his are in from London.”
“Wow, I haven’t seen them in years,” I say, sittin’ up in bed. Dana ran off to the army at eighteen, retired at thirty-eight and has made her home in Hawaii. She’s married to a retired army captain and has four children. Her brother, Brian, is also retired from the army and has lived in London for almost ten years with his wife and six children.
Between my moms’ four sisters and her three brothers, she has ’bout twenty-two nieces and ten nephews. And nine of ’em popped outta Aunt Brenda’s box. Then there’s like forty-seven great-nieces and nephews. Although most of ’em no longer live in Jersey, it’s still too damn many of ’em; especially for a muhfucka like me who ain’t used to havin’ a buncha kids and noise around.
“Are you coming over? Everyone’s been asking about you, and they’d love to see you.”
Hell no! I ain’t beat for all them muhfuckas so early in the mornin’. The last time I went to a family function, Moms’ sister Ella got pissy drunk and snatched off their other sister’s wig, then tossed it into the punch bowl. Man, listen…Aunt Betty was hot! She turned ’round and tossed her drink in Aunt Ella’s face, then they got to cursin’ each other out, airin’ out each other’s dirt. By the time they finished, we knew that Aunt Betty used to sneak outta the house and fuck white men on the railroad tracks for money when they were growin’ up, and Aunt Ella had four abortions. And two of ’em were ’cause she was fuckin’ their sister Lanette’s husband for almost four years. Uncle Benny almost shitted in his drawers when she spilled the beans. And Aunt Ella’s husband, Larry, jumped up and started hookin’ off on Benny. They tossed Aunt Betty’s crib up.
“Tell e’eryone I said hello, and that I send my love. But, I’ma haveta sit this one out.”
“Boy, and you sat last year’s out as well.”
“Yep, I sure did,” I say, laughin’. “Just make sure you pack me a plate.”
“Yeah, I’ll pack you a plate alright, smart ass. Are you stopping by tonight for dinner?”
“And you know it. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Well, then, I’ll see you later on tonight. Love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say, smilin’. I get outta bed, take a piss, then jump back in bed ready to go back to sleep. But the phone keeps ringin’. Falani calls, then Maleeka, then Electra, then Vita—all of ’em hittin’ a muhfucka up to bring holiday cheer. By the time I get off the phone, I have invitations from all four hoes to come through for some pussy. My cell rings, again. Fuck! I sigh, pickin’ it up off the dresser and glancin’ at the screen. I accept the call.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” Cherry cheerfully sings into the phone the minute I answer.
“Same to you,” I say, yawnin’. “How you?”
“Horny as hell,” she says. “I need another dose of that good stuff.”
I laugh. “Damn, you feenin’ like that?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on with me. Ever since you left, my kitty box has been purring for that long, chocolate bone.”
“Yeah,” I say, slippin’ my hands down into my basketball shorts. “What kitty wanna do wit’ it?”
“She wants to sit on it, ride it. Fuck it ’til she weeps and aches.”
“Oh, word?”
She moans.
“Yo, stop that ’fore you get my dick hard.”
She laughs. “Oh, it’s not hard?”
“Nah,” I lie. But the shit’s rock solid. I squeeze it. “But if you keep talkin’ slick, it will be.”
