Karen espied something which warmed the cockles of her heart.
"Mammie, come see what my boyfrien' posted."
Mammie stopped scrubbing the stains on her step daughter's panties, took a hit of fentanyl and said "Huh?"
"Put down that damned tin foil mammie and looks here..."
Karen waved her phone in front of the dilated eyes of her step-mom, and said "look at all de money my boy frien' has got."
Mammie espied the pic of a Venetian casino chip, a candy bar, and a watch: mammie shrugged.
"Chile, what da fuck does you care? Dat rascal, he be a known liar, or so you say: how you knows dat shit ain't fake?"
"Cause he be a rich lawyer and he play back-rat in dem fancy rooms, you know, like James Bonn."
"Dem white devils, dey all lie to us po' black folk, girl...ain't you figured dat out yet?"
But Karen had tuned her out, engaging in her ongoing daydream involving MDawg, Church's Chicken and shitting on the parquet floor of a Newell.
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