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The Zook is playing, everybody is dancing. I shy away, lest I reveal my true colours: remembering the child dancing outside the rum shop, I digress.
Cousin (pronounced in a French accent)…I hear my relative shout.
This slight man, I see him lost in the thunderous thighs of dis big woman, his head buried in her voluptuous breast, huge grin beaming from her face.
She whines her waist like there is no tomorrow. Her feet barely moves, but her butt slides with rhythmic balance and grace: he is lost in the aroma of the ripen fruit. She pushes his head into her bosom. I think to myself, how can he breathe!? In response, he grates his crutch against her, her smile widens; I guess we know that something is up! I think to myself.
After the dance, I asked him, what’s a little guy like you doing with dis big woman? He turns to me, with a sly expression on his face, “Cousin, au soir moi ka swim en dans la femme… the woman’s biggg!!”, he adds, “that is how I like dem”, whilst shaking his head and cheeks from side to side … followed by a huge grin. I turn my head,
and see that she is looking in our direction, looking all girly and innocence, I think to myself eh hem, time to disappear.
