I walked down to the shopping center to find the gang in full force this morning. Big S and Droopy were having an argument over whether the Saints should have gone to the Super Bowl.
“Dem Saints lost because of all those turnovers,” Big S said excitedly.
“Those Saints lost because they played crap football,” Droopy replied plainly.
I am not much of a pro football fan. Pro football lacks the panache and excitement of college ball. I will occasionally listen to a game on the radio as it lulls me to sleep, but never watch it on TV. I doubt I will watch the Super Bowl as well as the crass commercialism of it all gets on my last nerve.
George finally drove up giving some reprieve from Big S’s and Droopy’s banal conversation. I had never been so glad to see George. As he pulled up, a woman got out of his car to go in to buy her groceries. George seems to be back in the swing of things as far as work is concerned and is making good money again these days.
“Who’s up for a coffee?” I asked the fellows.
The resounding plea of, “ME!” rang out around me.
I walked down to the diner and ordered four cups of black coffee in a to-go carrier and walked back up to the shopping center. We all sat around on this briskly cold morning to talk.
“Why don’t you work?” Big S asked me as he took a drink of his coffee.
“Why don’t you work?” I replied unabashedly.
“It’s my back,” Big S said. “I can’t work because of a bad back.”
“That nigga ain’t never worked a day in his life.” George said as he laughed.
“I have a nervous condition.” Droopy chimed in.
“You always worked though.” I told Droopy. “You and I worked for years down at Martex.”
“I think I am going to retire soon,” George said as he laughed once more.
We all turned to look inquisitively at George.
“I am gonna move south out of this damn cold and live the life of retired nigga with lots of ladies. Hell, all you sons of bitches are on disability and social security. Why should I have to bust my ass off makin’ a dolla?”
Now, I don’t know about you, but George saying he was retiring was an interesting prospect. George really doesn’t do what I call work. He lives at home with his elderly mother. He doesn’t have any real bills other than gas for his car and money for booze and cigars. George already has a pretty good life. I guess retirement would be a life of luxury for him.
I finally finished my coffee and the cold was starting to get to me. I walked the ten minutes home after telling the gang goodbye. I had better things to do than to listen to Big S and Droopy argue about football. By this time, George had joined their banal conversation as well. George doesn’t even watch or is interested in football. He just wanted to argue for argument’s sake.