“I thought black people don’t get sick like white people,” I told George a minute ago.
He busted out laughing. “This flu I’ve got is a plot by white people to keep a good black man down!”
I smiled as George handed me a 12 pack of diet Pepsi. All joking aside, George has really got a bad case of something nasty. I told him he went father than I ever would by working last night.
“I am headed home for the bed and I don’t want any shit out of momma!” George said.
“No poker tonight?” I asked sheepishly.
“Are you kidding? But maybe a good drink will kill whatever is ailing me,” George said with a sly grin.
I smiled back. It was good to see my friend this morning. I told him if there was anything I could do then all he had to do is ask. It is a good thing he is off of work tonight.
“Thanks for the Pepsi,” I told George as he bid me goodbye.
“I can still look out for my buddy even if you are part of the great white plot to keep black people poor and downtrodden.”
I liked that George still had a sense of humor. We often banter playfully about racial issues and make light of what some people take as the gospel. It is one of the things I so love about George. I hope George gets some good sleep and awakes feeling better. And I do hope I don’t get it as well. I am off to go wash my hands and wipe down that carton of diet Pepsi. You can never be too careful when it comes to the flu. At least, I’ve had my shots. George hasn’t.