Old Man Beale didn't give a good goddamn if me and Cloda was "an item." "Just keep it off the midway," he told us. Come Christmas, in winter quarters, we was still together, despite her old man trying to kill me with tent-hook back in Ohio. Old Beale wanted us to sit on his lap for the Santa picture, like he always done, but Cloda wouldn't and I don't blame her. "Just take the picture," I told the guy and he did. Even if she goes back to her old man by New Years I'm keeping the picture. We look good together.
No comments:
Post a Comment