There is an old man who sells vegetables at the Central and Davis square farmer's markets. Once when I was handing him a five-dollar bill in exchange for some cooking thyme, he said, "Did I ever tell you de' story of de' white devil?" Although I found it strange that he should suggest he'd had other opportunities to tell me this story, I replied that I didn't know it.
"I'm gonna tell you that story now. A father took his boy into the city one day to pickup some things for the farm. When they got there, the boy saw a byoootiful woman for da very first time. So he says to his daddy, 'What is she, papa?' 'Oh, son, that there's one-a-dem white devils. Dey's nothin but trouble wit dem.' Later on, the daddy asked his boy how he like the city, and if he wanted to pick something to take back when they left. The son knew just what he wanted, 'I wanna take one-a-dem white devils home with me!"
When he pronounced the last words, I knew it was time for us to laugh, so we laughed. Hard. And the next time I saw him, he asked if my boyfriend and I were twins.
No comments:
Post a Comment