Shirley and Me

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Fat Mack was sitting across from me eating out of the biggest plate Shirley could find.  I swear he’s eating more, but it looks like he might be losing weight.  Well, at least a pound or two.
“Is that even a real plate?”  I asked.  It looked sort of grayish, but it was covered with so uch food I couldn’t tell.
Mack looked at me like I was an alien.
I’ve never seen so much bacon on one plate.  Before I could stop myself I asked: “What?  Is that like FIFTY pieces of bacon, Mack?”
“It’s turkey bacon,” Mack managed over an enormous mouthful of cheese grits.
Ahh, so that made it okay, I thought.
Uncle G peered from behind this week’s copy of the Advocate.  “That’s a shame,” he said, nodding toward Mack’s plate.  “That’s one of those tins they use to make pizza,” he offered.  “Three orders of this, four orders of that– boy, you workin’ to eat,” he told Mack, shaking his head.
“What are YOU working to do?”  Mack shot back.  Everybody knows Uncle G doesn’t work.  G frowned and went back to the paper.
Shirley stopped by the table to take my order.   I gave her that “girl, you’re so fine” look and she frowned– kind of.  I’m gonna marry that girl some day.
As Shirley walked away with my order, I glanced around the diner.  Little Willie was over across the room, in another booth talking with some Muslim brothers.  The breakfast menu regulars were all there, and a few other people I didn’t know.  There were a couple of gorgeous women, one black and one Latina, sitting over near the brothers.  I asked Mack if he knew who they were.  I mean, I really like me some Shirley, but a brother has to keep his options open, you know what I mean?  It’s taking Shirley a long time to come around.
“Oh that’s right– you’ve been gone for a minute,” Mack said, stuffing about eight pieces of bacon in his mouth along with a heaping helping of eggs and some toast.  I swear his jaw must dislocate to open that wide. “The Latina sister is Marissa, and her girl is named Sunday.  They been coming by now about two or three weeks.”
“Man, they are both ab-so-lute-ly beautiful,” I said.  “Do you know them?  Can a brother get an introduction?  I mean, I can take it from there.”
Uncle G was back from behind the paper.  “Yeah, Mack,” he said, “introduce him.  Go ahead.”
“What?”  I didn’t like the look on Uncle G’s face. “Y’all setting me up?   They date some big ole Shaq look-alikes or something?
 Shirley came back with my food, and Uncle G ratted me out.  “Scoop here was asking about the two G-girls over there,” he said.  “Said they were both beautiful.”  I couldn’t believe he did that.
Shirley glanced over in their direction and then put my plate down in front of me.  “I wish you would stop calling them ‘G-girls’,” she said to Uncle G.  And then she looked at me and said “My friends over there are both gay, and they’re talking about getting married.   So it looks like you’re stuck with me.”
If Uncle G wasn’t so old, I’d beat him like he stole something.
But did I hear Shirley right?  ‘It looks like I’m stuck with her?’   Me and Shirley.  Shirley and me.  How about that?   Who needs a Marissa and a Sunday when I’m stuck with my girl Shirley.   Man, I’m gonna probably end up dreaming about her again.  And before you say anything– I know it.  I got it bad.