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Cynique

The Only One Chapter 20

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The Only One

Chapter 20

No, he hadn’t seen Debbie Marlowe lately, Troy Briggs ruminated as he made his way through a crowded hall in City Wide’s main office, on his way to a conference room on the other side of the building. But, then, there were a lot of people he hadn’t seen lately, including Carole Everly who had just asked him about Debbie during their conversation in the employee lounge, - an inquiry that was now inspiring a flashback…

…Yeah, everything between him and his Barbie Doll had been great at first, what with how each one was trying to make a good impression. But because they were who they were, it was not natural for either of them to be false. So it wasn’t long before their true selves surfaced. And because they had little in common, they were not always in the same key…

“I’m from the hood, baby” he’d explained when Debbie had made plans for them to go see her favorite group, Lady Antebellum, in concert. “Country Western music just ain’t my cup of tea.”

“Why do we always have to turn to ‘Friends’,” he’d wondered out loud, lying in bed one night, watching a rerun of one of Debbie’s favorite TV shows, thinking he’d just as soon be looking at an old episode of “Martin”.

“I’ve never really gotten into hockey,” he’d shrugged , as he laced up his Jordans, showing little interest in the new Black Hawks jersey Debbie had just bought to celebrate her team making the second-round play-offs.

“I can do without seeing Adam Sandler play his twin sister in drag,” he’d mumbled after Debbie announced what movie she wanted to check out that Saturday night. “If I wanted to waste my money on low-brow comedy I’d go see Tyler Perry as Madea.”

But those were minor differences that could be attributed to the “opposites attract” dynamic, - or regarded as an opportunity to embrace diversity, something he’d decided to do.

What turned out to be a major source of contention, was his finding out that an ongoing concern with animal welfare was a priority that permeated every aspect of Debbie Marlowe’s lifestyle! Even the “sex appeal” she liked to rave about him having so much of, was soon being referred to as his “animal magnetism”, and just rolling these words off her tongue would excite her enough to turn an affectionate coo into a full-blown fuck.

Of course, he was against animal cruelty and random slaughter, but when it came to an overwhelming concern about mistreatment, as a black man, he preferred to focus on human suffering. So it eventually became a question of whether hot sex was enough to melt him into a glob that Debbie could mold into an advocate for her cause. Time would tell.

Becoming a Vegan certainly wasn’t one of the things on his plate, and Debbie’s relentless nagging couldn’t change this. Comparing himself to the carnivores in the animal kingdom, he made it known that he wasn’t giving up meat, - wasn’t going on a diet of rabbit food, passing up his mother’s good ol home cooking. Making things worse was how the high chirping voice he’d once found so sweet began to strike him as shrill and nasal, never more so than when Debbie was reacting to his scarfing down a double-cheeseburger with bacon and a large fry. Unlike him, she didn’t think regular work-outs at the gym made up for his eating habits.

And, although he had nothing against dogs, had even owned one as a boy, he refused to join Debbie in her fanatical devotion to a dysfunctional mongrel rescued from an animal shelter. So he’d balked at the suggestion that they take turns walking Marty, a duty which entailed a pooper scooper! No way was he going to pick up the shit of a hostile mutt who disliked him, undoubtedly considering him a rival for the affection of his doting mistress.

Things got testier: Debbie not concealing how appalled she was by the mink coat his mother was wearing when they were introduced, lecturing about the number of pelts it had taken to make the cherished gift his late father had given his wife on their silver wedding anniversary. Equally visible was Debbie’s disapproval of the leather designer purses slung over the shoulders of his two sisters. Giving him further pause, was the satisfaction she got from slashing a seldom-worn suede jacket his ex-wife had bought for him. How could he blame his family for scowling when comparing Debbie to her predecessors.

That dizzy blond is a bigger ‘trip’ than Coreen!”

“Ashley Drake had more goin for her than this ‘Becky’ bitch!”

“Hope you’re not going to make the mistake of another bad marriage, honey.”

And gradually, as her happy-go-lucky persona started to recede, Debbie’s inner shrew began to emerge. Developing an affinity for the authority that came with the territory at the temp agency where she worked as a supervisor, she became increasingly domineering, scolding him for being indifferent when “Newt”, the white rat he’d given her to “honor your love of all critters,” was found belly-up in his cage one morning.

Debbie’s adoption of a stray cat that Marty had bonded with, probably because the hissing tabby was as ill-tempered as he was, was the beginning of the end. Troy had almost choked on his burrito when she’d declared that Marty-the-dog’s acceptance of Missy-the-cat, was in keeping with the tolerance advocated by his namesake Martin Luther King.

I named Marty after this great leader because Dr. King was against racial prejudice, and dogs don’t discriminate when it comes to skin color,”- a virtue not shared by Missy-the- gray cat who had jumped up and gulped down Jack and Jill, the 2 black tropical fish he’d bought for Debbie as a peace offering after Newt’s untimely demise.

When Debbie went even further, comparing PETA to the NAACP “because black people and animals are victims who society needs to treat more humanely,” he’d seethed in silence, deciding that ignoring this clueless screwball was preferable to going upside her head.

Informing who Missy was named after was the last straw, and Debbie’s explanation had really gotten his goat that fateful night in bed.

Being married to a black cat symbolically makes Michele Obama ‘the first lady of pussies’,” she’d laughed. “Who better to name my little kitty after?”

Yeah, and after a asinine remark like that, you need to change your name to - Sarah Palin!” he’d growled, his animal magnetism bristling with the pheromones that sent Debbie into heat.

Eager to do damage control, she’d pawed her way on top of him, lapping up his mouth. But looking up at the panting silhouette desperately humping his semi-hard organ, all that came to his mind, was that he was being violated by a scruffy poodle yelping for a bone, and smelling like wet fur! Ugh.

After a bewildered Debbie and her pets left the following morning for their appointments with the vet, he’d sat alone in the apartment, staring at the wall for 2 straight hours, mulling things over. Then he’d proceeded to pack his belongings and head for the door, and the ease with which he was able to “hat up and split” assured him that the studio apartment he’d still maintained, was where he needed to be. He may not have been a pain in Debbie’s ass but - she had become one in his!

The fever had dissipated, and no amount of her whimpering over the phone would rekindle the infatuation that reality had extinguished. Gone, too, was his fantasy. Replacing the wind-blown fair-haired damsel running through a sea of wildflowers was a wilted Debbie, sidestepping animal droppings, trudging through a daisy field that had gone to seed.

Providing him with total closure, had been the vengeful parting shot his indignant lover had delivered, shocking him with the taunt that she had been screwing her boss at the temp agency the whole time she and Troy were together!

“And this week-end Lenny is taking me along to help him pick out a pit-bull puppy!” she’d barked before he’d hung up on her. “Crazy bitch”, he’d vented, glad he’d resisted her pleas to desecrate his body with a tattoo of her name!

Reaching his destination at the same time the recall-reel ran out, a new image bloomed on the screen in his skull. A vision of who he had feasted his eyes on earlier, - so cool and calm, - yet so warm and inviting, resonating there in her sexy outfit, smelling all fragrant, reading her Kindle, looking like some kind of an Egyptian queen perusing a stone tablet etched with hieroglyphics, arousing him so much that to tame his rising erection, he’d had to make an exit.

And what this brief encounter had literally brought to a head was that, where Carole Everly was concerned, he had been in denial; simple as that. He liked her. A lot. Always had, which was why he could never get her out of his mind, why he could never stop ogling her. And seeing her again was all it had taken to convince him that he wanted her.

“Snow White with her goldilocks” had just served to clear a path for this unique sista who, from the very beginning, had disarmed him so much that he’d feared her. Now it was time to step up.

Forget rolling his eyes into a penis. He was finally going to show some balls…

  • only 2 more chapters to go -

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"dogs don't discriminate..."

Cynique! Lawd! :D Who are these people? You can tell us...come on...someone has said this mess before haven't they! lol

okay i need to stop laughing or else i'm never going to get off of this animal section! this dern debbie is a mess!

<WRITERGIRL DROPS THE MIKE & LEAVES THE ROOM AT THIS ONE>:

Being married to a black cat symbolically makes Michele Obama ‘the first lady of pussies’,” she’d laughed. “Who better to name my little kitty after?”

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Debbie was a figment of my imagination. I never met any white person who actually expressed those ridiculous sentiments that appeared in the book. In advancing the plot, I used comedy as a wake up call for Troy. This was the only way I could portray Debbie without sounding like an irrational jealous black woman trying to put down white women. I do confess, however, that PETA people get on my nerves and I took this opportunity take pot shots at them. ^_^

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