Crazy lady The village was not lacking characters, case in point the woman who lived across the street. Me and Rayfie used to call her the Crazy Lady. She was the only person I ever meet who when she smiled she still managed to look pissed off. I always hated walking by her house especially when I just blazed up some really good ganja. I would walk by, looking straight ahead , knowing she was sanding there staring a me with that pissed off smile. Damn woman look at you like she going turn Soucouyant (warewolf) in broad daylight and suck all your blood from you. One afternoon, when the sun was in the middle of the sky, and butterflies fluttered in the rose garden, I was sitting on the verandah when Crazy Lady walked out of her front door. She had a black leather back perched on her shoulder, a big silver buckle sparkled in the sunlight, black strapped shoes, the kind you saw in the eighties not too tall not too short. Her hair looked like Don King was her stylist only she had taken a hot iron comb to it, you know the kind women used to heat up over the coalpot. But the center piece of her outfit, the main curse if you will, was the pee coloured nightie she wore, yes that all, a nylon nightie that came to just above her knees. She strutted down the gravel street stumbling on the gravel road. I tell you what, it was a sight to see, no Vitoria Secret model style, by boy was she doing her thing. People stopped and stare, some laughed, never before had people seen someone use their nightie as a fashion statement. She did not care, she kept walking, head held high, that pissed off smile on her face.
Posted on: Wed, 04 Sep 2013 14:40:41 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015