Null the Talking Pocket D Bird

Originally Posted by Zombie Man

Yes. There was a time. Long ago. When I was just a little Black girl growing up in the south of Frahnce. Mamiere would gently lay her hand on the shoulder of my threadbare calico nightshirt to pull me away from watching the barges sail by on the inky molasses of the port bay and guide me to my straw-stuffed mattress and tell me a story of how our ancestors came to this land of warm breezes and fields of wildflowers and how we lost most everything in the Great War and that is why she looked at me with a tearful eye to tell me, “You’re movin’ with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air.” I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought, “Nah, forget it. Yo, holmes to Bel-Air!” I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8 and I yelled to the cabbie, “Yo holmes smell ya later!” Looked at my kingdom I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.