he wouldnt recommend it
but then on the other hand . . .
he wouldnt recommend walking into
a grocery storethe Produce department standing
among discerning women who are selecting fruits and vegetables for their
families still gassed by the passage he read
as he entered . .
. . “How was I going to
execute my orders with you hanging over me all hours like – like . . . some . .
. sleepless fucking corporate ogbanje? I had to get rid of you and run dark
because how else was I going to do my job?”
“That doesn’t explain the elevator.”
“You need the elevator explained
to you?” Whiplash swift she grabbed my arm. She split her thighs apart and sat
back further against the bench, pulled my hand in and pressed it tight against
the damp heated mound of her cunt. “You need this explained? I wanted
to fuck you, Veil. I still want to fuck you, and we
only just got done. Feel --”
She gasped as I slipped fingers
inside of her. She pulled harder on my arms, got me close, made an urgent noise
in my ear. In my lap, my prick heard it and responded as if trained to the
sound. It tightened stealthily but steadily back towards erect. Our mingled fluids
had left Madekwe slick and open; it was easy to work my fingers deeper in,
rubbing soft circles with the tips. I felt inside her clench and flutter
involuntarily.
an Asiatic woman across from him
handled a large plantain You
gotta be fuckin kiddin me he was grateful he didnt have to address
anyone his voice felt hoarsecramped in
his throat
in Express Check-Out he recognised
that the cashier was pulled up to the front understaffed
a Produce guy Greg he was wearing the departments green apron rather
than the red one cashiers wore
aimlessly he wondered if Greg was
a Greg or a Gregory
he seemed aptly namedseemed gregarious
he flaunted his Produce abilities
though likely to mask his flailing and floundering at the scanner and cash register
keys cant handle melons and bulk waxed
cardboard containers and suddenly be expected to use fine motor skills
Afternoon Greg
Good afternoon, sir he said as he began pulling his plastic-bagged vegetable purchases towards him
Pressed into service huh
That’s one word for it he smiled unevenly
the countertop scanner decided not to cooperate the plastic evidently obscured the bar
codes Greg had to peel the bag down frustration not
deep beneath the surface ceased furrowed his brow his smile began to dissipate
Technology Greg ya got to love it I dont
Yeah he grimaced neither do I he fumbled with a 1.75 liter of Black Beam firm plastic a change up from the flaccid vegetable
plastic it toppled
onto the scanner Greg snatched it up and
handed it to him he bagged his purchases
in a cloth bag hed sling over his shoulder and walk home
Greg exhaled noisily
Much longer up here he asked
Greg rolled his wristlooked at
his watch Another twelve minutes an I’m
back where I belong he looked up to the
monitor That’s nineteen thirtyone.
as he entered the amount on the check
he prepared he mused Good year Year my father was born
taking the check from him looking at it Greg said I don’t know, Joe. got his name off his check – at
least that was smooth Don’t think I know a soul who was born in the Thirties. Would you like
your receipt?
Yes please Greg he always took his receipt and looked at it
before he left the store a good forty
percent of the time the scanner entered errors
he was convinced the errors were
corporate practise a lot of people didnt
take their receipts and then they really
didnt know what they paid particularly if they were doing a weeks shoppingdozens
of items he never bought more than he
could carry over his shoulder the two miles home
Thank you for shopping with us today,
Joe.
Yabetcha Greg
with Thin Air in hand going to reread the sex he stymied as he walked
in he took a look at his receipt
Nineteen thirtyone was definitely
an error
the Beam was twentyfour ninetyfive
alone
Bingo Greg fumbled
free Beam
free Beam
he wouldnt recommend it
but then on the other hand . . .
0017, Monday,
24 6. 19
1459, Monday,
1 7. 19
ogbanje term in Odinani for what was believed to be
an evil spirit that would deliberately plague a family with misfortune. . literal
translation in the Igbo language is “children who come and go.”
