Black mold on your toilet seat would have been more welcomed than what Ashleigh was witnessing.
“Freakin’ unholy,” chimed in Lou-Lou.
“Primitive!” affirmed Charlay.
The three debutantes jockeyed for space at the knotholes in the green cedar fencing surrounding the home of Jessie John Simmons. Flesh pressed against flesh so firmly that white waves of slathered sunscreen squeezed out like liberated pus from where the bodies connected.
The pack of Neanderthals on the other side of the barrier snurfed down handfuls of grey sponge torn out of a common platter swimming with red and yellow sauces. Pleasured groanings escaping the shirtless beasts only increased the revulsion among the observers.
“It ain’t in the dictionary,” declared one of the hulks from between his hands. “I looked.”
Jessie John was first to leap frog away from the slop pot. His sprint to the garden hose was a blur and it appeared that he was about to do a full endoscopy on himself with the rubber snake. He guzzled gallons before shaking himself off like an old black lab and turning back to his band of brothers.
“Told you it was hot.” The comment slithered out of the smirking Ethiopian face of Kabede Rada. “Your insanity sauce is like ketchup compared to our Amheric gravy.”
“Stuff near melted my tongue,” slurred the vanquished gourmet.
Buddy Hogan wiped off his soggy mitts against his navy blue shorts and plodded over to examine the distended tongue of his friend. “Mama’s Malagasy Mango Chutney has a sweeter fire. I ain’t ready to quit yet.”
Kabede Rada rose like a sleeping dragon and reached into his back pack. He pulled out a small glass jar filled with bright red liquid. “Say your prayers snowman because you are about to become Frosty in August.”
The three voyeurs involuntarily stepped back from their ‘blind’ and put their hands to their throats. Buddy Hogan was the first string quarterback with the gridiron title on the line one day away. His play calling was essential. Kabede Rada was the enemy linebacker already quoted in the regional rag as guaranteeing an end to Hogan’s heroics.
Charlay was the first to move into action. She reached for an abandoned tennis racket and started running. As head cheerleader she wasn’t going to be stuck on the sidelines any longer.
Although her gait was less than warp speed, she skirted the Korean Boxwood hedge separating the front yards and flew down the scalding sidewalk and through the pine gate into Jessie John’s back yard.
The sight of a bikini clad prom queen with a racket held high like a tomahawk about to strike froze the three young men kneeling on the ground in a tight circle. They quickly released the hands they had been holding and rotated in the direction of the attacker.
The focus of the attack was quickly evident as the swing flashed toward Kabede Rada. “Don’t you dare!”
Jessie John was fast as a switchblade and intercepted the descending weapon with his right hand. He wrenched the racket out of Charlay’s grip and let her momentum vault her into the pool.
When she surfaced, Charlay was hotter than any Amheric gravy. Her eyes held all the fire any hulking lineman dared to stare down and her tongue made the dessert sun seem cool. “Don’t you dare!”
Buddy Hogan stepped to the edge of the pool and watched the ‘fire queen’ treading water ten feet from the edge. “What are you so scalded about?”
The retort was quick. “I am not going to stand still and let that buzzard wipe out our title. Jessie John. You’re supposed to be protecting our quarterback, not setting him up for the assassin.”
Kabede Rada had hurled himself sideways when the racket descended and now he rose from the ground laughing.
“What are you laughing at?”
Jessie John stepped up beside Buddy Hogan and extended his hand toward Charlay. “We were just about to have a prayer meeting. I sneezed.”
Charlay’s glare was directed at Kabede. “You were arguing. You were about to burn his throat out.”
“Like the man said. He sneezed. Said ‘achoo’. I told him I had a home brew to fix it all. We’re accountability partners.”
“What’s this about not being in the dictionary?”
“The word ‘achoo’ isn’t in the dictionary. However, the word ‘assumption’ is.”
“Stupid argument. So what’s a girl got to do to get in on a prayer meeting?”
“Just kneel. Be still. Look up. Don’t assume anything.”
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