Hell Hath No Fury Like A Pimp Scorned

There's a glow in the room. No it's not from her. She left the blinds open overnight. Hope the neighbors enjoyed the free peep show. "Seven o' clock in the morning and the rays from the sun wakes me. I'm stretchin and yawnin in a bed that don't belong to me." I guess life really does imitate art huh? Who sets their alarm clock to play the radio instead of buzz? Apparently she does.

I look on the hardwood floor for proof I'm as smart as I think I am. A gold wrapper shines in a well-placed sunbeam. That's one load off my mind. I search under the bed and find my slacks wrinkled but with my wallet still in them. It still has its oh so precious contents in it: license, credit cards, social security card, picture of my daughter and $67. She starts to stir as I button my pants and put my wife-beater back on. "Don't tell me you're leaving already," she whispers with a raspy voice. "What happened to Mr. I Can Go All Night?" I point to her open blinds that prove her wrong and me right. "Oh," she whispers. The truth makes her squint. I keep looking for my shirt.

"Where'd I put my shirt?"

"You didn't put it anywhere, you threw it."

I look out the door and down the hallway to find what was a finely ironed shirt reduced to a crumpled heap. I go to put it on. Damn, it still smells like her.

"Why are you in such a hurry? I got morning breath or something?"

"Nah, I just have to get to work. You've heard of that before haven't you?"

She throws a pillow at me and points to her doctorate degree on the wall.

I'm surprised it's still hanging considering the afternoon and night we had.

"But for real, I gotta go. Lights don't stay on by themselves and the cable man don't accept IOU's. Not anymore."

"Well let me give you number. Call me sometime so we can have rounds 4 and 5."

I take down her info in my cell and tell her I'll clear my schedule this weekend for her.

Before I close the door shut I hear a sigh of content and sheets ruffle while she pulls them over her head.

I walk outside and head to the car. I pull out the list and cross of the name "Melissa" off my list.

"One down, thirteen to go. Payback has never been so sweet."

I chuckle to myself, start the car and turn on the radio.

"If you feelin like a pimp nigga go and brush your shoulders off..."

I follow the advice of S. Carter and lightly dust myself off.

I guess life really does imitate life, huh?

Part 2 in a week...