African Americans -- Louisiana -- Gretna -- Fiction; Short stories, American
There was no response to her question. Gussie was sound asleep in his
chair beside the stove. She decided that it was best not to wake him
until after the refreshments were served. Then when everybody was ready
to leave, she would call him and give him the quilt to take home to Aunt
Fisky.
Carmelite took a knife from the safe drawer and tiptoed over to the table
to cut the cake. The plate was empty. Nothing on it but a few scattered
crumbs to tell that just a short while before it held a splendid duck-egg
cake.
Could she believe her eyes? There was only one person to suspect, she
told herself. And that person was Gussie. Nobody else had been in the
kitchen since the cake was put on the table to cool.... To think he would
do a mean, deceitful trick like that, after she was kind enough to let
him come in out of the rain and sit by her stove to get dry.... And not
a single piece left to offer her friends, after she just got through
telling them about her good, rich duck-egg cake!... What would they think
of her?
With a sudden resolve, she hurried over to Gussie and grabbed him by the
shoulders with both hands.
“Wake up hyuh! You nasty, low-down rogue.... Befo’ I pound you ’bout de
head wid a billet o’ wood!” She muttered with restrained passion, shaking
him roughly. “W’at you mean, prowlin’ ’round my kitchen an’ puttin’ yo’
filt’y han’s on things w’at ain’ b’lonks to you?... Wake up an’ git out
o’ hyuh, I tell you!”
Gussie opened his eyes and looked at her half dazed; wondering who she
was, and what the rough treatment meant. His mind was not clear and he
seemed uncertain of his whereabouts.
“Don’t you hyeah w’at I say?” Carmelite shouted, trying to pull him off
the chair.
“Don’ play so rough,” Gussie pleaded, struggling to free himself. “I ain’
goin’ bother nobody, settin’ hyuh by de stove till I git dry.”
“You mus’ be a drunken fool!” Carmelite answered hotly. “After you
done et up all my good cake,—thinkin’ I’m goin’ leave you stay hyuh
comfatubble; an’ I gotta go younder befo’ all dem people in de room, wid
a empty plate?... No’n deed, Lawd!” She vociferated, hearing the sound of
footsteps approaching. “So you better come on an’ git off dis chair befo’
I make dem mens drag yo’ nasty body thoo dis house an’ th’ow you in de
street unmerciful!... You hyeah?”
Soongy and Pinkey stood in the door looking on in blank amazement,
wondering what the difficulty was, and asking how Gussie happened to come
in without anybody seeing him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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