As I was heading down to the local ghetto grocer for my milk, crossing the parcel pickup area, a very, very large black woman was pushing a cart of groceries out into the Sunday afternoon air. She was about five feet ten inches and perhaps 450 pounds, with breasts the size of an NFL helmet, dressed in stretchy tiger-stripe pants and shirt, with a purple ruffled vest and knee high vinyl hooker boots.
Behind her came the Nigerian security guard shouting, “Mamma, Mamma, wait. Stop, Mamma, I must have what is in your shirt!”
The woman stopped, turned like a tigress at bay and snarled menacingly at the 160 pound middle-aged man, who skipped forward on tip toe like he was trying to reach his hand into a tank of swarming hornets. Like a veritable Mowgli he deftly inserted his hand into the gargantuan cleavage before the creature could engulf him in her beastly embrace and withdrew a two pound box of frozen hamburger patties from between the woman’s breasts!
As she scowled, and he skipped away sprite-like with joy, said, “Have a nice day, Mamma, come again.”
Meanwhile, Mister Lee, the hacker on duty, said, “Good Lord, ain’t nobody want to buy them funky burgers now!”
