A new blog series from the Abby Normal mind of Stan Lerner
Richard Skinner’s partner, Larry Jacobs, an athletic black man in his late thirties, sat in, what could only be described as, a lavishly appointed kitchen surrounded by bills. One after the other he opened the horrible white envelope’s and shook his head in disgust.
“Damn that woman can spend money. Bloomingdale’s, Barneys, Tiffany, Gucci, five hundred channels?” Larry was in the middle of saying out loud to himself, only to have his thought interrupted by the entrance of his wife, Chenoa, dressed head to toe in Gucci—revealing a body so hot that it made fire jealous!
“Ta Da! Do you like it?” asked Chenoa doing a spin. “It’s right off the runway in Paris.”
“Baby you look fine, but I think you look great in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“You want to put this body in jeans and a T-shirt?” asked Chenoa gesticulating with her hand along the length of her fine curves. “You know what baby? Maybe you just need it a little less so you appreciate it a little more.”
Larry felt his resolve melt like ice in a microwave. “Baby I appreciate it,” he pleaded pulling her to a seat on his lap. “It’s just these bills, I mean do we really need five hundred cable stations?”
“Would you rather have little Bryant home watching cable or out running the streets?” asked Chenoa with just the right mixture of sass and sex in her tone. “Besides, I’ll be able to help out soon.”
This news raised Larry’s brow. “Oh really now?”
“I will. I’m working on something.” Chenoa ran her finger down the side of her man’s face. It wasn’t so much different than the guitar she learned to play as a teenager—just pluck the right strings and it would play any tune she wanted.
“Honey, buying five hundred lottery tickets a week isn’t a plan,” quipped Larry, lowering his voice to the end of its baritone range.
“I’ve got something even better than that. I’m going into business with Mona, but I can’t say what. It’s a surprise and don’t you tell Richard.” She punctuated this warning with a sharp jab to his chest, and then quickly closed in with a deep open mouth kiss and some ear bighting for good measure.
Larry had completely forgotten about the family’s financial problems at this point and was in the process of one sweeping arm gesture needed to clear the table of its paper clutter when their eight-year-old son Bryant walked in dressed in head to toe Tommy Hilfeiger.
“Knock it off you guys, the stores open in twenty minutes.”
Chenoa jumped off of Larry’s lap and pulled him straight to his feet, still in an “almost had sex” daze. “All right baby, I got five new credit cards this week, let’s put them to work. Chenoa leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Than we’ll come home and you can put me to work.”
Through the haze of his raging testosterone he was able to understand the important implications of his next words, which he needed to choose, oh so carefully.
“Let’s go,” he managed to say loudly and with considerable enthusiasm.
—
Thankfully, Josh had spotted a couple of prime parking spaces still vacant in the parking lot closest to the movie theater.
Richard checking to see that the coast was clear flipped an illegal u-turn, hardly noticing the truck he had just cut off as he pulled to the gate at precisely the wrong angle to easily pull the ticket. Continue reading CROOKED COPS EPISODE 3 →