Attending a conference in Mississippi. Went to a “honky tonk” bar with others of the conference for a night of Karaoke. Sang Johnny Cash “Jackson” because I was so ready to get back home. The locals enjoyed our performance. Getting in the car with a coworker, a older gentleman accosted us. “The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice” Key in hand.. pushed around the meth induced gentleman. Backing out of parking lot. He proceeds to expose himself to us. Rapidly moving his tongue back and forth, while summoning us to get out of the car.
A late night at a house party after a graduated college, with fellow alumni. A guy I met that night, he said he was a Pastor. We talked for awhile. He had a nice smile. He was interesting, he seemed…different. He said that parties weren’t his scene, because he was a “Man of the Cloth.” He drank from a Sonic cup. He promised it was just strawberry limeade. I went to the restroom. The whole house was dark, the only lights came from the strobe lights and the TV playing familiar songs and music videos. I walked out of the restroom and was suddenly pushed back in. It was him. He reeked of alcohol and strawberries. I fought in the darkness as he searched for parts of my body that were invisible. He tried to cover my mouth. I slapped him. He laughed. I screamed for help. It was almost too late. I caused a scene. He was asked to leave. He left. He was an ImPastor.
I’ve been known to take my coffee the way I like my men: Strong. Milk. Extra sugar. Hold the coffee. That has always caused a reaction from all the barristas giving their opinion on how my coffee should be. Growing … Continue reading →