What do skinny girls do that fat girls don’t. Sit in the car while their man changes the tire.
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Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 40
Chapter 40
THE STEAKS sat on the counter ready for grilling as plump potatoes split in half, emptied out and mixed with butter, crisp bacon bits, chives, sour cream, and topped with cheddar cheese bubbled away in the oven. Emmit Cooper sat with legs splayed wide apart watching Carolyn move around her kitchen.
This was their third date and his eyes were on her perfectly round ass. He was definitely going to hit it from the back, he thought. He closed his eyes and thought about what he was going to do later tonight. He was going to lie atop her and press his hard body against the pillow softness of her flesh.
“Dance with me,” came a voice from somewhere outside his head.
“What?” He asked opening his eyes.
“Come on, get up and dance with me,” asked Carolyn who was standing in front of him with her arms stretched out. And just as he opened his mouth to ask, “Dance to what,” the soft melodic strings of Ray Charles’ ‘Georgia on My Mind’ drifted through the apartment like a beckoning spirit.
“Baby, I don’t dance.”
“Why not?” she asked, teasingly.
“Dancing is the Devil’s way of getting a man all worked up and it opens the door to sinning.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want to sin with me? OK,” she said spinning around and walking towards the kitchen.
“I never said that, he yelled getting to his feet and following her.
“I just have to watch what I do, he said, putting his arms around her ample waist.
“In that case, she said, freeing herself from his grasp, “I wouldn’t want you to do anything sinful.”
“What a grown man and woman, who are in love with each other, do is not sinful. It’s what God intended.”
It’s a funny kind of religion you have. It’s OK for you to have sex with me but not dance with me. I think you need to get some clarification on the rules, before we get any deeper into this thing.”
“In that case, put that record back on cause we go dance tonight.”
“Georgia,” By Ray Charle
If you’ve been missing Dancing With The Fat Woman, the completed novel is available on Amazon.com/books. Click here.
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day Of Judgment
Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 39
https:dancingwiththefatwoman.wordpress.com
Chapter 39
RED LOBSTER was having its annual Lobsterfest and Emmit loved lobster. Carolyn hated lobster but loved Red Lobster’s cheddar bay biscuits and catfish. So when Emmit had suggested taking her there as payment for giving him a ride home, she’d say yes.
And that’s how she found herself sitting in a crowded Red Lobster Restaurant on a Sunday afternoon across from Reverend Emmit Cooper feeling a bit nervous but mostly, apprehensive. She’d already been burned once by a man from The New Christian Fellowship Church and she had no desire to repeat the experience.
This time, she wasn’t making any assumptions and that made her appear standoffish.
“Did I do something wrong,” asked Emmit.
“No,” responded Carolyn taking a sip of her water.
“I get the feel you don’t want to be here.”
“No, it’s not that,” she responded. I was wondering why you asked me to drive you home when there were others vying for the opportunity.”
“By others, you mean Sister Rhonda. She’s a bit off, if you know what I mean. And besides, I really like you. I have since that very first night I saw you on North Avenue – in the rain. You know I should have written you a ticket,” he said smiling at her with a set of disarming brown eyes.
“I’m grateful you didn’t.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I took one look at you and I knew something was wrong.”
“How?”
“Besides the fact that you were speeding on a rainy ice covered road. And when I did manage to stop you and you rolled down the window, you had mascara trailing down one side of your face. I assumed from crying.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And get off on the wrong foot. No thank you.”
“That would have been the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“You’ll find out soon enough that I’m no gentleman.”
“And you’ll find out that I’m no cry baby.”
“I know that, already.”
“How?”
“You look like you have your life together. You look successful in that Essence kind of way.”
“I like to think I am.”
“You are.”
“What else can you tell about me.”
“I could have wasted time, trying to break the ice, by asking you all the usual questions, like where do you work, what do you do there, and where do you live, but honestly, I know all that.
“How?”
“You forget, I’m a cop. I ran your license that very night as soon as I got back into the squad car.”
“And what did you find out?”
“That you’re forty years old, single, never married, his brown eyes seemed to twinkle at that, Carolyn thought, never arrested, and you live in a one bedroom apartment in Forest Park that rents for a thousand a month.”
“And you found out all of that from my driver’s license?”
“Well, not all of it. I did do a little snooping.”
“I certainly hope you found out all you need to know.”
“No all of it,” he said staring directly into her eyes.
Carolyn noted that his warm disarming eyes had become hard and piercing.
“Are you sleeping with that guy? Taylor Anderson?
“I’m Gonna Miss Her,” By Brad Paisley
This ends the free preview of Dancing With The Fat Woman
To find out how it ends, go to Amazon.com/books on Friday, February 27th (my birthday) type in either my name, Eliza D. Ankum, or Dancing With The Fat Woman, and buy the book for only 99 cents. It has an ending that you won’t see coming.
Thank you for giving me this chance to entertain you.
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
Dancing With The Fat Woman
And coming soon Jared Anderson
Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 38
Carolyn and The Preacher
https:/dancingwiththefatwoman.wordpress.com
Chapter 38
THE SUNDAY AFTER THANKSGIVING, Carolyn sat, alone, at the back of the Church. She was feeling lonely and truthfully a bit unloved because she’d spent The Thanksgiving Holiday by herself. She’d taken it for granted that Taylor would spend the holiday feasting at her place since he and Anna were no longer together. But as fate would have it, his mother had taken ill, or so the family said, and Taylor had rushed back home to Colorado.
Carolyn was of the mind that the old lady had faked the whole thing as a means of getting Taylor to come home. And even though it was completely childish, idiotic, and moronic, when Taylor had chosen his mother over her, she’d felt abandoned.
She could have gone to her sister’s for Thanksgiving but that would have meant showing up another year without a man and being the subject of whispered speculation and pity.
“Is she gay?”
“Can’t she stop eating long enough to get a man?”
“Oh my God, she’s getting so old.”
Rather than endure that crap again, she’d had dinner alone in her apartment. Three days later, she was still eating leftovers.
“God, how she missed Taylor.”
Emmet Cooper had a talent for spotting vulnerable women and getting them to do what he wanted, which is why at forty-five he was living rent free with his maternal grandmother. And right now, his eyes were on Carolyn Carter. From the look of her bowed head, teary eyes, and sullen expression she was ready for a real man – him — in her life, and not that SOB Taylor who followed her around like a neutered puppy.
As soon as the Service had finished, he’d make his way over to her and sound her out about having dinner with him. Of course, he’d have to avoid Rhonda.
Rhonda, his latest ex, and the most formidable one yet, was not taking the hint that he wanted out of their relationship. She saw herself as ascending to the thrown of First Lady one day, if, God forbid, something happened to Reverend Arnold and he took his place. But for all the ‘walk on water charisma’ she exuded on Sundays, Rhonda had a temper – a bad one. And she drank.
The two, he knew from first hand experience, did not go well together. When she’d had one too many she belligerent, cursed him to his face using fowl language, and threw things, mostly his. But worst of all, Rhonda hated his kids. She never let them forget, for a moment, that everything they had now, they owed to her because she was the one who had gotten him his first job after he’d gotten out of prison. For that matter, she never let him forget it either.
Sure Rhonda had gotten him a job as a Security Guard at the company where she worked, but it was all his own doing saving the money to get his criminal record sponged, applying for a position with the Melrose Park Police Department when everyone said it was impossible for an ex-con to become a cop, studying long hours for the Police exam, and getting his ass in shape to pass the physical. That was all him.
He was tired of asking for forgiveness, and tired of pussyfooting around her temper.
He would be the first to admit that it had taken him a while to get up off his knees. But he had repaid that debt to Rhonda by giving her the past three years of his life. As far as he was concerned, that was enough. He was a free man now and Carolyn was looking a bit lost without that SOB who usually accompanied her. “While the cat’s away,” he thought, scanning the room making sure Taylor wasn’t sitting elsewhere in the sanctuary. He also, had to figure out how he was going to get past Rhonda. With her forehead wrinkled in a question mark and her eyes narrowed into slits, she looked like she was spoiling for a fight. “Think fast,” he told himself. Pastor Arnold is about to ask everyone to stand to their feet for the Benediction.” As everyone stood, he spotted Mother Williams. A devilish smile crossed his lips. He hobbled down the pulpit stairs using a cane, he’d ditched the crutches a week ago, and up to Mother Williams.
“Mother Williams, he began Sister Rhonda is going through a little bit of a trial and I think she needs a strong Christian woman like yourself to council her,” he said. “Would you mind going over and having a word with her?”
“Oh, no Revered Cooper, I don’t mind at all.”
He hid behind a tall fake ficus until Mother Williams had Rhonda cornered. When he felt safe, he limped over to where Carolyn was standing in line to shake Pastor Arnold’s hand before leaving.
“Well good afternoon little lady. I’m so glad you came out, today.”
“Good afternoon, Reverend Cooper.” Carolyn responded.
“Where’s your friend?”
“Taylor. Oh, he’s in Colorado. His mother is ill.”
“Does that mean you were all alone for the holiday?”
Carolyn turned and studied Reverend Cooper for a moment before replying, “Yes, but I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Well, I’m not, he said looking rather sorrowful. I find myself in a predicament.
“What kind of predicament?”
“I find myself in need of a ride home. I was wondering if you’d mind giving me a ride? It’s not for out of your way. Especially with the way you drive,” he said smiling down at her.
Again, she turned and studied his face. She wanted to ask how he knew where she lived. Then she remembered he’d seen her driver’s license and that he was a cop.
“Sure, no problem.”
“Reverend Cooper! Wait!,” demanded a woman’s voice.
“Sounds like someone’s calling you.”
“That my dear Carolyn is one of the first things you’re taught as a new minister. Don’t let the congregation take up all of your time, he said stepping around to Carolyn’s right blocking her view of Rhonda waving franticly at him.
“Reverend Cooper! wait!”
There Goes My Baby,” By Charlie Wilson
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master of The Day of Judgment
Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 37
Chapter 37
JUNIOR PASTOR EMMIT COOPER, still on crutches, hobbled across the pulpit stage and up to the podium and let loose a flood of tears before leaning into the mike and exploding with “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The Devil tried to take my life, but I want everyone to know God is still in control,” he screamed.
This set into motion a thunderous crescendo of amen’s with people jumping to their feet applauding and shouting back their agreement. As the applause grew louder, the Church’s musicians joined in the spontaneous salute to God’s healing mercy. And this was all that the ladies who hoop needed. They were on their feet stomping, shouting, and twirling themselves into a frenzy.
It was a good five minutes or more before Officer Cooper had a chance to say anything else, noted Taylor, who had come to Church, that Sunday morning, with Carolyn as a show of support. She still hadn’t told him exactly what had occurred that had upset her so much, but something bad had definitely happened to her at Church.
He knew her well enough to know that when her emotions had settled, she’d tell him all about it. All he had to do was wait.
He had gone over to her apartment on Thursday night because she had called in sick that morning. Something that she rarely, if ever, did. He’d let himself in with his key and found her sitting in the dark, red eyed from crying.
Carolyn! What’s wrong?
I don’t want to talk about it, Taylor.”
“Baby, you can tell me anything. You know, I’ll kill for you.”
She had laughed at that. Because she knew inwardly, that it was true. He would kill for her.
“What are doing here? She’d asked him.
“You missed work, today. I thought you might be sick so I came over to check on you.
“I’m not sick.” She said getting up off the sofa and padding barefoot into the kitchen.
“I can see that,” he said trailing behind her into the kitchen because he knew she kept his favorite beer in the fridge and was probably on her way to get him one.
“I brought you food, he said holding up the white plastic bag loaded with Chinese food,” he said putting the food down on the kitchen table. He liked Carolyn’s apartment. It had real furniture in it and not that phony simulated modernistic crap that was everywhere these days. He squeezed past Carolyn while she had the fridge open getting the beer and reached into the cabinet where she kept the plates.
“A solution to a problem presented itself today.” He said.
“What solution and what problem?”
“The Walters’ murder trial is over.”
“Over? It hasn’t even started. How can it be over?, she responded putting a can of Budweiser beside his plate.
“It was your old friend, Gus, the bus driver, who ended it.”
Carolyn’s face wrinkled into confusion. “Gus? What does Gus have to do with the Walters trial?”
“He ran over Raymond Walters this morning with his bus” he said placing a large helping of beef and broccoli on Carolyn’s plate.
“Wait,” he thought, sighing deeply as he watched Reverend Cooper – the same Officer Cooper who had threatened him three weeks ago – hobble around the stage.
Taylor waited until the shouting had died down some before leaning over to Carolyn and asking, “Did you know he was back?”
“Back?” Responded Carolyn. “I never knew he was gone.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t know he was gone?”
“I mean, Carolyn said turning in her seat turning to face Taylor, I don’t know who he is, so how could I know that he was gone and now back.”
“He’s the Cop who almost wrote you a ticket, for speeding, on Halloween night, remember? And later he got hit by a car while writing some other poor slob a ticket. They announced it.”
“Ohhhhhhh,” said Carolyn as they inched their way through ‘the thank you for coming’ line at the close of service.
“It’s good to see you accepted my invitation,” spouted Reverend Cooper.
“Your invitation?” asked Carolyn.
“Yes, little lady. I was the one who put the tract on your car,” he said casting a glance at Taylor.
“I hope you’ll do The New Christian Fellowship Church the pleasure of having your company again, next Sunday.”
“Well thank you, Reverend.”
“Reverend Cooper.”
Taylor wanted to slap the man into next week because he had a bad feeling about the guy, reverend or not.
“Thank God For The Preacher, By Mike Bowling
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master of The Day of Judgment
and coming soon Jared Anderson
The Preacher
.jpg/230px-82nd_Academy_Awards,_Tyler_Perry_-_army_mil-66455-2010-03-09-180359_(cropped).jpg)
Tyler Perry as Emmit Cooper, The Preacher
“Pull Up To My Bumper,” By Grace Jones
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day Of Judgment
And coming soon – Jared Anderson
Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 36
Chapter 36
RAYMOND WALTERS FELL OUT onto Irving Park Road drenched in sweat from his meeting with Winston. He was, hell he didn’t know what he was. The only he knew for sure was that he was furious that he’d been followed during what was his private time and to top it off, he’d been photographed. It must have been that Black son of bitch he’d found in his house last month when he’d gone to retrieve the tape.
He took a moment to compose himself before reaching for his cell phone that he kept in the inside pocket of his coat jacket and started dialing. In his other life, he’d made a few friends. Friends that he might not necessarily want to admit that he knew but in times like these, they came in handy. Friends who could arrange to get him a duplicate of his passport. He’d had to surrender his original in order to stay out of jail. Those same friends had ways of helping people disappear. He was, he decided, about to disappear because he had no intention what-so-ever of going to jail for killing Marilyn. It was all her fault, anyway, he thought. If only she had given him a divorce things would have been a lot easier. And a lot different. For one, he wouldn’t be standing outside Winston’s offices wondering how he’d underestimated that old bastard.
That old bastard had actually had him followed. And there were pictures. Pictures of him and Chad, dressed as Charlene, dancing at the Berlin Club, kissing on the ride home, and engaged in the most intimate of acts. That was more than gathering evidence, he thought. Shit! What the hell were they doing. He was the damn client! Why the hell were his lawyers gathering evidence against him? He’d hired them to make sure he didn’t get convicted and those two morons had gathered enough evidence to get him the death penalty.
The phone which he was holding up to his left ear, stopped ringing when the person on the other end picked up.
“Hello?”
“Diageo?”
“Yeah.”
“Diageo, I’ve got a problem.”
“What kind of problem. You know I’m here for you, homes. After what you did. I never could have afforded to enter the Ms. Drag Queen of Chicago contest if you hadn’t ponied-up the cash.”
“Diageo, you know I’m on trial for killing my wife. I didn’t do it, of course. But my lawyer has some photographs of me and Chad which will make it look like I had a motive. I need those photographs back.”
“When do you want the job done?”
“As soon as possible? Tonight?”
“That’s do-able.”
“Good.”
There was a pause on the line as Raymond considered going through with the rest of his plan. But he figured it was best not to have that discussion standing in front on the Dorkin and Dorkin offices. His car was a better option, he thought.
“Diageo. There’s another thing. I want Dorkin’s private dick taught a …… WHACK!
Gus, the driver of the #80 Irving Park Road bus had gotten accustomed to not stopping in front of Dorkin and Dorkin since the pretty little fat lady had stopped riding his bus, had not anticipated that Raymond Walters, busy plotting revenge, would unwittingly brake Illinois Vehicle Code 625 ILCS 5/11-1407
Opening and closing vehicle doors. No person shall open the door of a vehicle on the side available to moving traffic unless and until it is reasonably safe to do so, and can be done without interfering with the movement of other traffic, nor shall any person leave a door open on the side of a vehicle available to moving traffic for a period of time longer than necessary to load or unload passengers.
Raymond Walters got exactly what he wanted. He never served a day in prison for Marilyn’s murder. He was DOA at Swedish Covenant Hospital.
“The End Of The Road,” By Boys II Men
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day Of Judgment
And coming soon Jared Anderson
Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 35
Chapter 35
RAYMOND WALTERS was growing increasingly annoyed with his choice of a lawyer. He’d been summoned, yet again, to Winston Dorkin’s office. At the time he’d gotten the phone call, he’d been in bed with Chad. And he naturally assumed, as anyone would have, that Winston had incredibly bad timing. It never occurred to Raymond that someone had been watching.
This meeting had better be worth his time or he was going to fire that old bastard, friend or not, he thought as he rode the elevator up the two flights to Winston’s office.
He did a courtesy knock on Winston’s door, just to announce his presence but not necessarily to give the man inside time to prepare before he barged in. What he hadn’t bargained for was that Winston Dorkin was as equally annoyed with him as he was with Winston..
“God damn it, Winston. I can’t keep coming down here every time you nap your fingers. I have a business to run!”
“Good Morning to you, too, Raymond. And please have a seat.”
“I’m warning you Winston! This had better be worth my time. I’m already thinking about getting another lawyer.”
“Is that right? Chuckled Winston. Time. That’s exactly why I called you here today, Raymond. We need to discuss exactly how much time you’re going to serve on this murder charge.”
“I hired you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Then perhaps you’d better reconsider the life you’ve been living or get yourself another lawyer,” replied Dorkin eyeing the man across from him with renewed contempt.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you had me fooled, Raymond. I was as much in the dark, about who and what you are, as everyone else.”
Raymond Walters was doing his best to keep his anger in check. He’d had just about enough of people telling him who he was and what he’d better do. He was free now and that was all that mattered.
“I don’t like the tone of this conversation Winston. I’m your client. For what I’m paying you, you’d do well to remember that.”
“Really, yelled Winston slamming his hands down on the desk. You’re the one who should remember that he’s on trial for murder. Raymond, you have got to stop. Your life depends upon,” Begged Winston, pushing a vanilla folder across the desk to Raymond.
Fear washed over Raymond like a wave at the beach. Sweat popped out on his forehead, he felt sick to his stomach, and in need of the nearest restroom. Shakily, he reached out his right hand and opened the folder. It was filled with pictures of him and Chad dressed as Charlene. He drew in a quick breath and was about to lie. But then he remembered all the years and all the lies, and he stammered out, “Winston, you don’t understand. I begged her! I got down on my knees and I begged Marilyn for a divorce. But she kept refusing. I’m old. I just wanted a chance to live my life. Winston, I can’t. I, he stammered, I can’t go back into the closet. I can’t hide who I am any longer.”
“Can you at least put your affair on hold until after the trial? The Prosecutor will eat us alive if he finds out you’re gay. There’s no way a jury will believe that you killed Marilyn in a fit of jealous rage. They’ll know you set the whole thing up. And the charge will be first degree murder instead of Manslaughter.”
“If You Love Me,” By Brownstone
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day Of Judgment
And coming soon Jared Anderson
Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 34
Chapter 34
CAROLYN HAD IT ALL PLANNED OUT. She had rushed home from work, ran up the stairs, threw off her coat, kicked off her shoes, and tossed her purse on the chair that sat next to the door. There was no time to waste.
It was Wednesday night – Bible Study night. Last Wednesday, Deacon Williams had rushed them through the lesson because, he confessed, he was starving. He’d worked a full day – non stop – and then there hadn’t been time for him to run home and eat before coming to the Church to set up for Bible Study.
She was going to take the Deacon her famous twice cooked pork chops, which had a crispy crust on the outside but were extra juicy on the inside, made from scratch mashed potatoes, green peas, and buttery yeast rolls.
She’d gotten up extra early that morning and had done all the prep work for the meal. She’d salted, peppered, and floured the chops before frying them in her old cast iron skillet for about two minutes on each side. She’d then removed the half cooked chops from the skillet allowing them to cool before she placed them on a baking sheet and sticking them in the fridge. Next she’d washed, peeled, and cut the potatoes into irregular quarter inch squares that she placed in a large plastic baggie into which she’d added a squeeze of lemon juice to keep them from turning brown. After doing all of that, she removed a bag of green peas from the freezer so they’d thaw by the time she returned home.
She’d done all of that before leaving for work, this morning. Now, all she had to do was stick the chops in the oven, throw the potatoes into some salted boiling water, and the peas into a pot to cook while she showered.
Out of the shower, she’d drained the cooked potatoes, put them in a large mixing bowl and dumped in about half a stick of butter, three heaping tablespoons of sour cream, some ranch dressing and garlic powder. Using a hand mixer, she turned the irregular squares of white potatoes into a fluffy cloud of deliciousness.
By then, the chops were ready to come out of the oven. She let them rest in the pan, while she finished the peas.
The only thing she had to do before leaving for Bible Study was to grab a quick shower and change clothes so that she didn’t smell of food. She’d already laid out a navy cardigan, white button down shirt, jeans, and black flats to wear for tonight.
Once showered and dressed she took one of her plates that she reserved for special occasions from the cabinet, washed it, and filled it with food, lovingly prepared for The Deacon.
Covering her offering gingerly with aluminum foil, she slid on her coat, grabbed her purse, and hurried down the stairs to her car. She had about thirty minutes before class started. If she could get there in fifteen minutes, that would give Deacon Williams a few minutes to eat before class started.
She had imagined that he would be grateful for her generosity and that the two of them would sit and talk, over her delicious meal, and become closer.
So with that expectation in mind, Carolyn walked down the stairs and into the small meeting room designated for Bible Study. She had timed it just right, Deacon Williams was already there and he was moving chairs around so that the Bible Study attendees were all facing the podium and him.
“Good evening Deacon Williams.”
Adam Williams was a little alarmed by the behemoth’s early arrival but none the less, put on his best Christian face, smiled, and returned her hello.
“Deacon Williams you said last week that sometimes you don’t have enough time to eat before class, so I took the liberty, she said, thrusting the plate forward.
The Deacon eyed the foil wrapped plate suspiciously even while taking in the savory aroma of what lay beneath the silvery foil. His empty stomach wanted it, but he knew the dangers these needy lonely fat Church women posed. He’d fallen into that trap in the past. He needed to make it clear that any relationship between them was out of the question.
“I want to thank you for this, he said taking the plate Carolyn had offered, but don’t get any ideas. I don’t even like fat on my meat. I don’t know what makes you think I’d like you?”
Carolyn was absolutely speechless as she watched The Deacon tuck her offering under one arm, grab his briefcase, and head off in direction of the Church kitchen to eat her food, alone.
“Take Me To The King,” By Tamela Mann
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day Of Judgment
Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 33
Bethlehem
https://dancingwiththefatwoman.wordpress
Chapter 33
CAROLYN WAS BUOYED at the prospect of seeing Deacon Williams again. She’d had such a wonderful time last Sunday. He’d escorted her into the Church and found her a good place to sit before taking his seat with the other Deacons. Then he’d driven her back to where her car was parked in the New Christian Fellowship parking lot and had waited until she was safely on her way before leaving. She was enamored.
There was one thing, however, that she’d found odd, but again dismissed it. On the way back, Deacon Williams had made a crack about how a lot of guys on the Police force are attracted to the job because of all the violence and machismo, of the job, as a way of covering up the fact that they’re gay.
Laughing at the thought of it, she’s replied, “Well, I very sure that’s not the case with Taylor. He’s the straightest of the straight. He put the ‘t’s’ in straight. Again, the jovial mood in the car had changed.
Tonight, she’d make sure there’d be no talk of Taylor and whether or not he was gay or straight. Tonight, she was going to keep her conversation relative to the Bible and impress Deacon Williams with how much she’d studied and prepared for class.
It was a week before Thanksgiving and she was in a festive mood. So she had gone home showered and changed into a gray cashmere cardigan, silkily v-neck gray blouse, and her very best pair of jeans. She trotted down the stairs to the Bible Study room and eagerly sought her regular seat. Tonight, the class was studying Luke Chapter 2 and Deacon Williams was already at the podium when someone in class interrupted and asked, “The city of David is Bethlehem? I thought the city of David was Jerusalem.”
“Bethlehem is called the city of David, because that’s where Jesus was born.”
“Why didn’t David build the temple in Bethlehem then?” Asked Carolyn.
The deacon shifted nervously from side to side and wiped his mouth, which had gone dry, with the palm of his hand. Carolyn saw the little beads of sweat starting to pop out around the edges of his hairline.
Before, Deacon Williams could up with a reasonable answer, one of the Church mothers, spoke up. “David didn’t build the Temple in Bethlehem because David never built a Temple, anywhere. David was a man of war, thus he had blood on his hands and God didn’t want David building him a Temple. David’s son, Solomon built the First Temple – in Jerusalem – because that’s where Solomon born and lived. It was also where Solomon established the government of Israel.”
“Thank you Mother Jones. She’s right. Solomon, not David, built the Temple. I should have gotten that, said The Deacon, throwing up his hands, but I’ve had a long work day and there wasn’t time for me to reenergize myself by eating something before getting here to setup class. So, I think on that note, we’ll call it quits for tonight. And meet back here next week.”
The Deacon, Carolyn noted, left without saying a word to her.
“We Fall Down,” By Donnie McClurkin
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
STALKED! By Voices
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day of Judgment
Dancing With The Fat Woman 