Troy Burroghs, and the Cake

I was in a little town I call, “Somewhere in North Dakota,” outing with a few friends. I guess they were supposed to have been friends, they were supposed to be—but! I took a picture of Johnny and Johnny. I asked them to take a picture of me, but they wouldn’t, I’m not sure why and I left it at that for the moment—a forever moment. I guess it didn’t matter all that much, I noticed I didn’t have any film in the camera anyhow, so all the better, and I got to see what they were made from, or out of.

Then I noticed a store nearby, saw the roof of it to be frank, over the trees somewhat, and as I walked towards it, I discovered I was walking the wrong way; in any case, a black man came walking by me wanted to help me, and I said:

“No need to, “not sure why those exact words came out, but they did. Perhaps I was mad because Johnny and Johnny didn’t take my picture with my camera that didn’t have any film; perchance a delayed reaction, a little Post Traumatic Stress, I hear so much about that nowadays.

He asked for a Chesterfield cigarette, and some candy: yes, yes, we’re still on the black man, he now wants a certain cigarette brand and candy; as if I’m the store I was headed for before I went the wrong way. He was on his way to his mother’s house he said, and asked if I wanted to go with him. I got moving, in motion as he was talking, I thought maybe he wanted my Dobbs hat, but now that I think about it maybe it was my wife he wanted. She wasn’t with me though. Who knows what people want, you can’t read their minds. I once asked a black man:

“…why do you date white women?”

I mean there are a lot of black pretty women out there, I’ve dated a few. And he said,

“They’re easier…!” I was in shock, I didn’t ask: easier than what, because I was still trying to figure out if I was going to get into a cockfight or not over this. Anyhow he didn’t have blood in his face when he said it, it was just down to earth honest to gosh truth. So I left it at that.

At this point, I decided to forget the store, and went into the restaurant. I asked for a coke and coffee, I like drinking them at the same time. Sometimes they bring the coke back without the coffee, and it gets me mad, irritated, you see I know what they are thinking, but they are not taking the time to think what I had asked for, rather they have interpreted my little sentence to mean what they’d like it to mean, thinking how can a person drink a cold and warm drink at the same time, it’s possible, I do it all the time. It is like the trinity, no big thing to figure out if you got a big god; hard things to figure out if you have a little god. Besides all this other talk, a coke and a coffee is just that, no more, no less. I didn’t say one for today, the other for tomorrow: oh no, I left it up to their brains to digest. But, and this is a not too good but: this time she had it together, and she brought both at once. Awa! a bigger tip she wants I thought. A friend of mine was in the café, asked where I got my hat: I thought: what is the big deal with my hat today, I told her not to make a fuss about the damn hat. That I didn’t get the Chesterfield cigarettes I had planned on either (she didn’t know what I was talking about). She didn’t listen to me she was only for herself doing something with her face. Then she said,

“Could we eat at McDonalds?” I was thinking she was with the black man, that wanted that cigarette, but I guess not.

“Decisions, decisions that is all I make all day. I do not care if we eat at Porky’s or McDonalds, or whatever.”

She looked at me now. She said,

“Ok lets eat here, I want some cake,” and so we ordered some; I really prefer pie to cake, but to keep the peace, I said ok, and we got the cake. Then out of the blue, she said,

“You have to eat some if you want to ride my bike.” Well, first of all I do not like cake, second of all, I never knew she had a bike, and could care less if I got a ride on it, I was supposed to get back to my camp site, and wasn’t sure how she got into the story in the first place, perhaps she snuck into my dreams, and third, she could stick the bike up …can’t think of where, but you get the picture, any old place.

“Well, Troy,” she said with a smirk, “are you, or are you not, going to eat this cake with me?” I thought I have only one of those alternatives, how lucky I must be. She pointed to the cake; I picked it up and shoved it in her face.

I bet she was thinking those white guys are real jerks, being a black woman. But I know one thing, she didn’t go looking for that black guy.

Dream Writing: 4-2002/Revised 11/13/2002; re-edited 12/28/2005