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The Divalicious Feline

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!

“Hey hey, what is all this loud meowing out here?”

“What in the hell is that human doing, why are they holding him by his ankles upside down and there is a tube in his mouth?”

“Ohh you new comers, don’t you know anything?”

“What do you know, you are just a dog.”

“Ok Miss feline queen, listen, you are living in a house full of college students now, this is what they do every damn night, get used to it.”

“Oh hell no, I need my cuteness sleep, I am not having none of this.”

“Oh please stop being a drama queen.”

“Look at this mess, how can I live in this filth?’

“Look at this mess, how can I live in this mess. Chill out, you lick yourself to get clean,”

“Hey you do the same damn thing.”

“Yeah but am a dog remember.”

“Shut up, these humans are quite uncivilized, I am way to divalicious for this.”

“Oh dear lord, you are one of those cats.”

“Oh gross, he is hacking up a fur ball, oh yuck its a liquid fur ball, oh dear lord it stinks.”

“Ohhhhh there goes one, down for the count, man them humans sure know how to abuse their body.”

“:Stop that loud barking, you barbarian mongrel. Oh dear, why is that one taking his cloths off, Oh oh excuse me, I did not need to see that. I am  dainty cat, this debauchery is reprehensibly.”

“See, see? There is nothing to see there.”

“Oh stop your howling dog, this is no home for a feline. Oh its getting louder, what are they doing now? Oh dear, did that human just hit the other human. Oh take me back to the pound, this is just horrid.”

“Woooooooooo party!”

“Oh shut up dog, you make us four leggers look like animals. Wait, wait what is he doing. Oh no, oh no, someone get that human a litter box.”

“Yeeeeaaaahhhh drop it sister, wooooooo,”

You are such a barbarian, have some dignity dog, you are just like them humans.”

“Twerk it twerk it, oh yeah, oh yeah!!

“Ok thats it I am going back to the pound.”

“Hey cat where you going”?

“Never you mind, I am going back to where its at least clean and very few humans.”

“Hey hey watch them claws. Oh you really going leave huh. Ha, you will be back, oh yeah, they always come back.”

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Doing the Pee Wee Dance From I am a Dirty Immigrant

One of the funniest incidents happened one hot summer day. I had become good friends with one of the ball players because when I first saw him, I thought he was from Africa. He had that purple-black complexion that glittered in the sun and always had a ready smile. He was about five feet ten inches tall, from Hoosier City, and was a really good person. We were sitting on a wall just up from the main street that ran through the campus. Around 4pm every day, truckloads of coal miners would drive through on their way home. My friend got off the wall he was sitting on and started doing the Pee Wee Herman dance. I did not think anything of it until I saw one of the trucks stop and back up. I turned to say something to him, but all I saw was the back of his head because he was halfway to the dorm, running like a mad man. I had never seen anyone run so fast, not even when we were running from the soldiers during the invasion or from the secret police during the riots. Let’s just say that Carl Lewis had nothing on this brother. We laughed about it later and he explained to me that for some reason, the rednecks would get really upset when a brother did that dance. That’s when I got an understanding of the impact that popular culture had on society.  

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Stories Storyteller

The Hundred Meter Dash

So here I was, seventeen years old, at the Queens Park Stadium. All six feet seven inches, one hundred and twenty pounds of pure bone and muscle, well more bone than muscle. It was the Wesley College track meet, and yours truly was about to blaze they asses up in a hundred meter dash. I was looking good doing my warm ups I tell you. Sprinting in place,  me knees up high, me arms pumping, you would have thought that you were watching one of them runners at the Olympics or something. The starter yelled “Take all you marks!” I jogged over to the blocks, emphasizing every movement I made, I mean I was prancing real graceful, like a gazelle and thing. When I got to the blocks, I shook me legs, then I shook me arms, just like I saw the runners and them do at the World Championships. The starter ordered us to take we marks. I went down on one knee, “On your mmaaarrrkk, ready,” then the pop of the starter’s gun. Oh yes, I took off, me legs pumping, me arms pumping, I mean it was perfect form. By the twenty five meter mark I could feel that I was all alone, I must have left them boys and them in the dust. Me heart was racing, me whole body was hot, oh yes, I was busting they asses. By the fifty meter mark, out of the corner of me eyes, I saw the crowd whizzing by, good I was still alone, hell they did not call me bionic boy for nothing damn it. By the fifty meter mark a strong headwind hit me and I felt like I was floating, I gritted me teeth and pumped me legs, ohhh yes, I was still alone, way ahead of the pack. By the seventy meter mark I head the laughter, so I looked ahead of me, damn it, all the shorter kids were at the ninety five meter mark.  Oh hell looks like I was getting me ass embarrassed. By the time I got to the finish line, the shorter kids were already walking to the pavilion. I dropped to the ground, me legs burning, me heart racing, me face red with exhaustion, or was it shame. That was the last time I ever ran a hundred meter dash, I was never going to let the shorter kids shame me like that.

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Caught in the act of plesure or sin ( from the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant)

I believe I got ahead of myself here. Prior to getting married,The Coal Miner’s Daughter and I needed some alone time. That college was so small there were people everywhere we went. It did not help with me being a seven foot tall ball player. We decided to go to the baseball field. We heard that the place was really private. We drove up there and parked in the dirt parking lot. Cars went by on the interstate; the street lights lit up the hills on the other side of the four lanes. After the windows were unfogged and total relaxation set in, in the darkness I heard her say, “Shit I have to piss.” Before I could respond, I heard the car door open and a cold burst of air rushed through the car causing majour shrinkage of nipples and other parts of the anatomy. Then I heard the trickle of liquid hitting the dirt. We thought that nobody saw her until we got called to the administration office. I tell you what: nothing is funnier than getting chastised by a blue-haired church lady with glasses hanging precariously off the tip of her nose, her face turning red as she tries to find the right words for what we were doing at the baseball field. Truth be told, she was more upset that I was black and she was white. That was the last straw for us. It was not long before we got married and kicked out of that place.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E91DDE6

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Coal Miner’s Daughter (From the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant) last day free use code KC63J

The Coal Miner’s Daughter had dark brown hair brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile. Quite frankly, she had an island personality, so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then saying, “Look what you went and done.”  We were inseparable from that day. She always found a way to make me laugh. She was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy. No one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia who was with her best friend, who now hates me, I guess because I am so bloody good looking. We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond, Kentucky: The Blue Grass City. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man, with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game and then I played the game. Afterwards, I saw her for about ten minutes, then I went to my dorm. Yes my friend, I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me. 

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/344979

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Doing the Pee Wee Dance (From the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant) free KC63J

One of the funniest incidents happened one hot summer day. I had become good friends with one of the ball players because when I first saw him, I thought he was from Africa. He had that purple-black complexion that glittered in the sun and always had a ready smile. He was about five feet ten inches tall, from Hoosier City, and was a really good person. We were sitting on a wall just up from the main street that ran through the campus. Around 4pm every day, truckloads of coal miners would drive through on their way home. My friend got off the wall he was sitting on and started doing the Pee Wee Herman dance. I did not think anything of it until I saw one of the trucks stop and back up. I turned to say something to him, but all I saw was the back of his head because he was halfway to the dorm, running like a mad man. I had never seen anyone run so fast, not even when we were running from the soldiers during the invasion or from the secret police during the riots. Let’s just say that Carl Lewis had nothing on this brother. We laughed about it later and he explained to me that for some reason, the rednecks would get really upset when a brother did that dance. That’s when I got an understanding of the impact that popular culture had on society.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/344979

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

“Where The Weed At” from the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant, now free use code KC63J

I was stressed out so I decided to seek out the only thing that calmed me down. Yes, I was going to find some good weed right here at this Christian school. One day, I was playing basketball at the small gym when I befriended this young man. He was quite large, about three hundred pounds and six feet three. He had sandy blond hair that hung down just above his eyes; a haircut shaped like someone had put a bowl on his head and cut the edges of his hair. His cheeks were permanently red, and his blue eyes were expressionless, like there was nothing but air and broken dreams behind them. Frankly he looked like an overweight Huckleberry Finn. He told me he knew where to get the good stuff. I almost laughed when he emphasized good stuff, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

One afternoon, we walked down the street looking for a place to smoke. The little town was quite beautiful. The houses lined the streets, the grass was brown from the winter cold and there

were Christmas decorations on their porches. Their yards were covered with leaves of bright red, orange and brown. Quite frankly it was kind of peaceful.

We arrived at a small bridge where trains went by which was something I had never seen before. We got under the bridge; there were two other young men with us. The fat guy pulled something out of his pocket, and I remember thinking, I had never seen a white tooth pick before. To my dismay he flicked his lighter and lit up the smallest bloody joint I had ever seen. He passed it to me, and before I could take my usual long draw, the other kid had his hand out. When we were done, the big kid stumbled out from under the bridge. He was jumping around like Sugar Ray Leonard shadow boxing. To tell you the truth, he was surprising light on his feet.   He was going to tell the world how high he was. I slowed down, letting him go ahead of me. Huck’s antics were going to get us caught. That day I decided to stop smoking. I could tell that this place was going to be a buzz killer.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/344979

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Coal Miner’s Daughter (From the novel “I am a Dirty Immigrant”)

Jenny had dark brown hair brown eyes, caramel complexion and a beautiful smile quite frankly, she had an island personality so I immediately felt comfortable with her. The first time we kissed was in front of the little chapel in the middle of the campus. I remember her looking shocked and then said, “Look what you went and done.” We were inseparable from that day, she always found a way to make …me laugh, she was and still is a good person. Our wedding was completely crazy, no one knew about it but my friend from Ethiopia and another friend from Zambia and her best friend, who now hates me, I guess because I am so bloody good looking, was also there. We left the campus and drove three hours to Richmond Kentucky. When we got to the courthouse I was told I had to have identification, so we drove the three hours back to the school and low and behold the bloody car broke down. We borrowed my friend’s car and drove the three hours back to Richmond. We got married at the house of a preacher, an older black man with his aging mother in attendance. When all was done we drove back to the school, I went to the gym and got dressed for a ball game, I played the game and after I saw her for about ten minutes then went to my dorm. Yes my friend I spent my wedding night sleeping on the top of a bunk bed that was about five inches too short for me.
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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

What did that homeboy call me?

We got to the dorm, and a young man of African decent came up and held his arm up, not the usual handshake I was used to.  He smiled and promptly said,
“What’s up dawg?”  I stopped for a second, did I imagine it or did this fool just call me a dog? Believe me, there was no brotherly love for him at that moment. He was short, no more th…an five foot seven, and I wondered how this little man could be a ball player. He was a little confused when I did not shake his hand, but hey, this fella just called me a bloody dog. Anyway, I was guided into my dorm room and I swear that room was made for little people. It was so damn small I could stretch my arms out and touch the bloody walls.  There was a bunk bed on one side, and with one glance I knew I would be sleeping with my feet hanging off the end, maybe five, or so inches.
  The next day I woke up around five o clock, normal for me, and looked outside. The sun was bright, and the sunshine was almost like home. I thought, good weather for a run. So I went back to my room, put on shorts and a t-shirt, hell, I was going to enjoy a nice before breakfast. I stepped outside and immediately my skin felt like god and the devil was having a tug of war match. Then, a sensation like needles pricking me ran through my body. I turned and walked like a mummy back to the room and stood in front of the heater thawing out my frozen tropical joints. Being that cold was not natural, someone had to piss off God for him to create this kind of torture, to tell you the truth, twenty years later, and I am still defrosting from that first morning.
That night, I got calls from women who were on Christmas break. I was surprised, but the other ballplayer explained that basketball was king here and people virtually worshipped the players. I told the women not to call again, you may ask why? Well I did not know who they were, and was not about to let my guard down. Later I wanted to kick myself because some of the women were quite beautiful.

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I am a Dirty Immigrant

Book trailer

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E91DDE6