This is the final day of earth. I see a dog staring at the stop sign. What makes him believe he could read? I doubt if he knows the earth has stop spinning. I wonder where’s his family. The night is cold, dark, and silvery. Monsters hide in the fog, I am sure. The wind has blown earth upon the sky.
A girl slowly approaches, “where’s everyone,” she echoes. They have escaped, all of them, into their mind of fear and imagination, I brisk.
The sunken eyes rapidly travel back and forth expressing uncertainty. She wandered away, in the brown sands of the Sahara that covers Main Street USA.
Her nostrils stained with fear as the tight-fingered fist took her balance. Red dripped from her wrinkled purple lip. Jasmine, her confidant puppy growled silently beneath the bed at his naked aggression. The strange and brutal night had only begun.
Hiding was not an option, the frighten door shattered on his impact. His darken murderous eyes squeezed tighter, a psychopath; she was no longer human. As the officers’ commands fell deafly upon his homicidal intentions they took aim, she whispered, kill us both.
Rain taps a chorus of melodies from the Louis Armstrong album playing. It’s a hot night, Broadway’s a buzzing! Joe Louis knocked that big White Nazi German out.
“The Brown Bomber, America’s Champ! We beat ‘em Nazi, Joe Louis, the Brown Bomber!!!”
The Cotton Club dancers’ naked skin shined with ecstasy that night. I had seen many pretty women down in Memphis, but nothing like these Cotton Club women. Their tan complexion covering those curves drained my pockets many nights.
Come on in Melvin; the bouncer’s arms escort my arrival. “A bottle of champagne Buster,” the joint’s jumping, “that Sugar Ray over there?” Yea, go say hey to him Melvin, he ain’t mad no more. “I’m going to wait till he a get a few more drinks in him. Hey Louise, tonight’s the night,” go head on Melvin, I’m ain’t minding you. “She just don’t know, tonight’s, the night.”
“The Brown Bomber’s says so…”