Ricky and Melvin have been friends since they were children. In fact, I have a feeling nobody except Melvin, and now I, call Ricky by that name. He's a tall, attractive guy who owns his own business, and he doesn't look like a Ricky at all. Maybe a Richard. It's odd I'd never met him before because Melvin tries to introduce me to all of his friends. He wants them to think I'm his girlfriend.
I don't think Ricky was buying it. Neither are his other friends.
Anyway, it was election day, so after we talked about Snoop Dogg's bust, the conversation turned to the election. I'll just say none of us canceled out the others' votes, although Ricky was teasing and claimed he voted for Mitt Romney. I asked him if he wore his special underwear to the polls. I was going to ask him to show me what special underwear looks like, but I was afraid Melvin would use that as an excuse to show me his underwear too.
Melvin said the guy who works up at the convenience store said he voted for Romney. Melvin asked him if he was a secret millionaire. The guy wouldn't speak to him after that, which probably didn't stop Melvin from talking to him.
I only saw one Romney sign in this entire neighborhood, and it was being used to prop up somebody's hood while he worked on his car in the street. Not too many poor people around here voted for him.
Today as I pulled down the street after a long day reading tarot cards at our church bazaar, I saw a small silver SUV parked in front of my house taking up both spaces.
I was talking to Elvira on my cell phone. "I don't fucking believe it," I said. "Somebody's parked in both my parking spaces at once. Who the hell does that?" I slowed almost to a stop and glared at the car.
I pulled past the neighbor's car and did a K-turn in the street, and I said to Elvira, "I think that's Ricky's SUV. Why would he be such an asshole?"
As I came back around, I noticed Ricky running down the stairs from Melvin's porch. He hurried into his car and drove away. I pulled into my usual spot, parked, and got off the phone. As I gathered all my stuff up and got out of my van, I saw Melvin was out on his porch with another guy.
"You told Ricky to get his motherfarming car out of my parking spot, didn't you?" I yelled up. Melvin says motherfarmer around me because he knows I don't like that other word so much.
"Yes, I did, baby. He say he's scared of you. You looked so mean when you drove by."
I noticed Ricky had turned around and was coming back to park on the other side of the street. He yelled out his car window, "Go look in your mailbox. I left you some mail from Mitt Romney."
"What? Seriously?" My mailbox is in the wall of the porch. It's that old fashioned kind that the postperson puts the mail through the slot and it comes into the house. I have to keep a towel stuffed in it in the winter because cold air comes in too.
"Yes," he said. "I know you wanted a letter from Mitt."
"Come over here, baby," Melvin yelled. "Come up here on the porch."
"Nope, not going to. I haven't eaten all day and you know how I get when I'm hungry." He doesn't and he's lucky.
"C'mon over here, baby. I'll feed you. And I'll give you some gin and juice too."
"No, I'm not coming over there. Don't even try." He really wants those guys to think I'm his girlfriend. As if.
"Then you look in your mailbox and see what Ricky put in there," he said. I love it when he gives up.
I unlocked my door, set my bags inside and checked where the mail had slid into the basket I keep under the mail slot. Sure enough. There was a hand-written envelope in there. I looked at the writing on it and started laughing.
"I can't believe you did this!" I yelled across to them.
"Oh, we did it, baby. Open that letter up now," Melvin yelled back.
I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out a card with my name written on the front on a white sticker. The card was folded in half. This is what I found when I opened it.
I was laughing so hard I could hardly yell over to them, "You guys are crazy. I can't believe you did all this!"
"You know you want to vote for Mitt in the next election!" Ricky said.
"Not happening, Ricky. Even if you're running with him in your special underwear," I hollered back. I was still laughing. "This is hilarious! I'm going to keep this in a scrapbook."
"I know you gonna post that on your Facebook, baby. I just know you are," Melvin shouted.
"Oh, I'll be posting it," I yelled as I stepped into the house, closed the door and snapped the locks in place. "I'll definitely be posting it somewhere."
My neighborhood. You just never know what's going to happen next.
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