The three L’s will fuck you over all the time Love, Lust, and Lotto. Love is the fuckery these dumb broads believe in when they meet their so-called soul mate. They have the grand wedding, the honeymoon, buy the house, the car, the babies and the dog. Sounds like the perfect marriage and the best love story, right? Love blurs your commonsense because “your husband is perfect.” Love puts on blinders because in reality you have dreamt of this man all your life. He pays the bills, mows the lawn and family vacations. He is educated and in your eyes his shit don’t stink. So when he comes home late, or has business trips more frequently or sends you on vacation with your girls while he works ever so hard. You close your eyes to other possibilities of the inevitable he may have another chick on the side.
The sudden nights he doesn’t make love to you anymore because he is tired. The whispers in the dark on the phone and finally when lust by the name of Becky shows up at your door with her belly sticking out letting you know Mister done share the magic stick with another trick. Now for other broads they cry, they go and file for a divorce that is protocol. They break things, curse him out, and hire lawyers to get half of the money and possesions. Now in the new age smart men realize marriage is a business. So some of these broads sign on the dotted line because love said so. So not only are they blind now he has dumb you down to a basic bitch.
Now ladies don’t go getting your damn panties in a bunch. Some of you know I am talking about your ass. Some of you are living the so- called perfect life and maybe just maybe you do have a Mister who is perfect. Yet, for the rest like me we have a person that has done us wrong and that is my situation. Love for me shut down my common sense but it didn’t shut down my sight.
I love playing lotto scratching off those numbers. It is because with lotto it all about spending a dollar and in the process hoping it will make your dream come true.
With lotto the odds are win or lose no in between. I lose more than I win with lotto and on this particular day I so happen to catch my love, Simona. holding hands with the next man. I knew all along she was fucking with this dude and she was scratching me out of her life. She gets in the car I buy her and pulls off. I pick up another ticket and the numbers ironically reveal the month and date of her birthday. The phone rings and she sings,
“Hi love muffin. I missed you today.” I pick my Afro, put a toothpick in my mouth gnawing away the hurt I feel.
“Really. So Bae what did you do today?” I scratch off another number revealing a coin meaning I instantly win fifty dollars.
“I went to work and after that I made a run to the mall for a quick bite to eat.” I scratch another and this time it is not a winner. My heart is pounding, my pressure is rising, and I snap the toothpick in half with my teeth.
“Did you go with anyone, Bae?” I rub my temples and close my eyes.
“No, just me, myself and I. Hurry home love muffin I bought this sexy outfit just for you.”
“I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes doing a lotto ticket run and a special dessert just for you.”
I don’t take kindly to being cheated on, I never have. I gave up on men after I strangled my husband to death twenty –years ago. He hit me and I killed him while he slept. The woman I described in the beginning is I, Goldie. I thought I was the shit to have a man who took care of home. Love, lust and lotto taught me all three are an illusion, a brief moment of satisfaction that clouds your judgement. Killing him released the real me a woman who is a lesbian, who loves to rock converses, flannel shirts, khaki pants and play lotto. I am also kill people for hire. I don’t need to win millions my bank account is loaded with money. Back in the day I use to wear make-up, heels and dresses. I was a fake and a fraud being something I am not. I free myself the day I took his life.
I walk into the store buy twenty more lotto tickets, Liquid Drano and lighter fluid. I drive home and a tear is released. I don’t cry and when I do it is dangerous. I realize as hard as I try to be a man I am still a woman. I pull up and her car is in the driveway. The cherry red Mercedes Benz I bought her for Christmas. I step out and grab the bags she opens the door greeting me with a hug and a kiss. I must admit she is fine ass woman. Her deep dark complexion, her full lips and African-Goddess braids dangling past her shoulder. My Nubian queen body is curvaceous, a fat ass that shakes when she walks, her tree trunk shaped legs and the fact she is bow-legged is the reason I lost my commonsense.
“Bae, I’m going to fix us a drink. Your usual with a special twist.” I open the bottle and pour the Drano in a goblet. It sizzles and I sit in my seat. I pick my Afro and bite my bottom lip.
“I saw you with him today. And Bae please don’t lie.”
She stutters, “I … It… not… what you think, love muffin.” I pull out the ticket and begin scratching loose change. The object is to get over a $1.00 and you win the prize in the box.
“If I get over a dollar I will let you live. Now if I get anything less you are going to die. I am going to make you drink that glass of Drano and then I am going to torture you until I am sleepy. You better hope Luck be a lady tonight. Now know that the only reason I am giving you this chance is because I love you. Now it is clear you didn’t love me enough because you allow lust to put you in this fucked up position. Stop shaking and start praying.” She bites her nails and I scratch off one box at a time it is six in all. The first box reveals fifty cents, the second a penny, the third reveals a dime, the fourth reveals a penny, and the fifth reveals a nickel. She scratches off the final number and then the phone rings. She looks at the phone, she looks at Simona and then the number. Simona shaking, she urinates and falls kissing my thighs. The phone doesn’t stop and she picks up the phone.
“Mommy, I need help. Please come help me.” I throw the lotto ticket at her, push her to the floor, and kick her in the face. I pull out my gun and shoot her three times in the chest.
Like I said before those three L’s will fuck you over all the time. Now it was time to save my daughter she needs me.
© 2013 Tamyara Brown- Tamluvstowrite
Author Tamyara Brown
My love for writing is unconditional. It is my sanity in this crazy world.