Oysters, Cold Fried Okra and Ice Cream - Page 8

“Is that so?” Springer asks Ditto Heads who seems confused. “Would you allow this relationship to go on this way?”

“Jerry, We’re not angry at Rush, he made us what we are and we’ll do whatever he says – but Liberal Causes will not be around because when I get my hands on that socialist slut she’ll wish she lived in Scandinavia.” Ditto heads says and makes an unexpected lunge at Liberal Causes, grabbing her by her left arm and spinning her to the floor. The bouncers’ scramble desperately to separate them – pandemonium breaks out – The audience is shouting “Jerry, Jerry, Jerry. Ditto Heads and Liberal Causes are in a battle to the death if they are not soon separated.

At this point, I awaken to a dry throat and a sweaty forehead. The oysters were fermenting in my stomach, the cold fried okra was refluxing in my chest and the ice cream had gassed up — my body was revolting against me and created a sense of turmoil — without doubt the source of my dream. I got up from the sofa, looked at the refrigerator, thought for a second, then I decided I’d better go outside and mow the lawn.

Article Author: Horace Mungin

I started writing while living in New York City, during the time of the Black Arts Movement in the 1960s. I first tried writing poetry and did fairly well expressing what I felt about the racial, cultural and social conditions of the times.
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