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“I’m blind,” Coretta announced as she shuffled over with the help of her latest aide. “I can’t see anything.”
“That’s what blind means, bitch!” Zeb barked at her.
Coretta was once a looker. I’ve seen photographic proof. I know it was true. These days, though, she’s a tiny, saggy lady wearing a red wig and giant sunglasses. I had no idea what look she was going for with her flowered pantsuit, but I assumed fashion was harden when blind.
After Zed’s insult, Coretta waved her hands around, trying to locate his face. Even knowing she wanted to slap him, he helpfully moved within range. The crack of her palm against his cheek made the aide flinch. Zeb only laughed.
“You’ve still got it, you hag.”
“I’m blind,” she snapped back.
I was about to walk away when Coretta reached out for me. “Ike, the quiet child, are you still here?”
It would have been so easy to sneak away. After all, she’s blind, which meant she couldn’t see. But I’d always had trouble telling women no. Likely, my ballbusting mom and psycho sister broke something in me early on.
“I’m here,” I said, getting closer and assuming she’d slap me next.
“You’re such a big, strong boy,” she murmured and patted my shoulders and chest in a way that felt a little pervy. “I might be blind now and unable to see the man you’ve grown into. But my eyes worked just fine when Zeb was young. Trust me that he was always a scrawny, rat-faced fucker.”
“Only thing I fucked was your ugly ass,” Zeb spat and got in her face.
“Is that tiny-dicked man eyeballing me?” she demanded.
When her silent aide did nothing more than look ready to puke, I helped OG Meemaw out by grunting affirmatively. Coretta’s hand cracked against Zeb’s face again. This slap led to him referring to her as “a dried-up whore.”
She then claimed her pussy was plenty juicy and added, “Might need a squirt of lube first, but my pussy will get the job done.”
“Oh, I’ve got your lube,” Zeb replied, making clear where this hate dance was headed.
Glancing at Coretta’s aide, I figured she was around my age and pretty. If I were like my Mercer cousins, I’d be talking up this single woman and trying to get laid.
Except dating rarely interested me. Sure, I enjoyed sex from time to time. But dating might be the most excruciatingly boring shit I’ve ever attempted. Probably because I never learned to chitchat with anyone.
What was the goal of dating anyway? To talk to a chick so she’d want to talk to me more until we eventually fucked? Then what? We’d talk more?
Why shouldn’t I just hook up with a biker slut and then go talk to people I was actually friends with?
So rather than hit up that aide, I opened my moonshine jar and smelled the sweet booze.
“It goes down smooth,” Zeb explained while taking a break from glaring at Coretta. “But that shit’ll burn you up. Be careful, pussy. You probably can’t handle the brain heat.”
“It’s butter pecan,” I muttered.
“I slipped some turpentine in it.”
“Don’t kill my grandson,” Coretta snarled and reached out to tug at Zeb’s hair.
“He’s your great-grandson,” Zeb corrected as he enjoyed his hate-flirting. “You have others. It’ll be fine.”
Coretta defended my worth by grabbing Zeb’s balls. At first, I thought she’d tear them off. Then, I realized her ball handling was part of a weird birthday gift that would lead to two very old people grunting and worrying about lube.
Taking my butter pecan moonshine, I walked around the homestead and grunted hello at people. Finally, I found a quiet spot in the woods located on our property and tried the booze. Zeb wasn’t kidding about it going down smooth. The jar was empty within minutes.
I sat against a tree for what felt like forever. My life didn’t have to hold meaning. It just had to be agreeable.
Most people never accomplished anything big. They were lucky to be surrounded by people who gave a shit. A good meal, a hard fuck, and a hearty laugh were all anyone needed to enjoy life.
I truly believed that until I stumbled upon the pixie in the woods. The moonlight shined on her blonde hair as she moved silently through the trees.
