Dirt

Glenda quickly wiped down the last table at Casa D' Waffle, flinging crumbs onto the booth seats and the floor, rather than into her hands. As soon as she finished with the tables, she would be dismissed from her shift, the awful all-day shift that she had to serve once a week. Glenda had been on her feet since 5 am, and now, at 9 pm, she was ready to be home. On top of that, she was ready to kill Henry. All day long, her customers had talked about the fire at Forever 21 and the mysterious stolen left shoes. Maybe she was just imagining things, but Henry's sneaky behavior lately made Glenda want to point right at him and call guilty.

"I'm outta here," Glenda cried to Shaniqua, as she removed her apron, threw her hair net away, and signed out of her shift.

20 minutes later, when Glenda approached her apartment, she could hear the television on, some sport's announcer's voice blasting. Oh, thought Glenda. The nerve of Henry... 


"Hey Henry, will you please turn off the television, we need to talk," said Glenda once she entered the apartment. No response – Henry continued to stare at the television.

"HENRY!" screamed Glenda.  "TURN. OFF. THE. TV." Henry glanced at her, scoffed, and slowly picked up the remote. His fingers hovered over the power button, but at the last second, he clicked mute.

"What's up," he said.

Glenda placed her purse (not her Louis Vuitton) on the kitchen counter. Though she hadn't had the nerve to sell her Louis yet, she didn't dare take it to Casa D' Waffle with her – the thought of getting grease stains on it made her shudder. She then walked to the television and turned it off, then dragged a stool across from Henry and sat down.

"Look, Henry. I know you and I have never had to deal with the whole discipline thing, but I know what you did," she said.

His eyes widened. "I-I didn't do it all by myself!" he stammered. "And, it's not like anyone got hurt..."

He's weaker than I thought, Glenda thought to herself. "Okay, but how do you explain something like that?" asked Glenda.

"Well, me and the boys had been talking to their old teacher – that young guy that everyone liked that recently got fired, Mr. Shaffer. He was telling us how much he hates his new job at the theater. So, we decided, we'd burn down the place. But none of us had done arson before, so we needed something to warm up with. We all hated Forever 21, because the girls at school that wear those clothes are all teases..."

"Oh, great logic, makes so much sense," said Glenda.

"Exactly! And the shoes ... well, we thought the rubber would burn well, and we thought it would be funny to make the whole town smell like burnt rubber n' shit ..."

"First off, language! Secondly, okay ...  how do I go about handling this ..." muttered Glenda to herself. "And this is why I gave away my first child to that damn orphanage ..."

"What was that?" asked Henry.

"Oh, uh, nothing," stammered Glenda.

"Uh, uh, tell me about this child of yours."

Shit, thought Glenda. She clenched her eyes tightly together, then sighed heavily. "Well, it was a long time ago, I had a baby, and I gave it away to the orphanage down the street," she said. "But you aren't going to tell anyone about that, because I have blackmail against you now. You keep your mouth shut, and I'll keep mine shut ... Under one condition. You really wanna help out that teacher of yours, you better occupy your time better. I hear the theater is beginning production of a new play, and you're going to be a part of it. Now, you may think you've got dirt on me now, but the worst that could happen to me is that I get a weird reputation. You, you could go to jail ... Now, no more discussion. I expect you to go to auditions – they start tomorrow."

Henry stared at Glenda, his jaw hanging wide open. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," said Glenda, as she marched down the hallway to her bedroom.