Snake in the Grass

A Story by MsBonn

An overbearing neighbor gets what's coming to her!

SNAKE IN THE GRASS

Two-thirds cup of vegetable oil…”Who does that dope think she is? Big Mama, I know you always used to say, ‘love your neighbor,’ but you could’na been talkin’ bout that skank next door. Ima love her alright-with my size 6 and a few bullets to follow…Kill her with kin’es…

…One and a half cups brown sugar… “She got too much nerve and just ONE more time to report me to the housing association. My television ain’t THAT loud. And whose business is it if I let my OWN DOG s**t in the grass of MY own home? Hell, this is MY condo. Well, my CONDO-LENCES, b***h!” Latonia turned and introduced her middle finger to the wall separating her from Shandra, her next door neighbor...Don’t mess…with…

Beat, child, beat!… “I’ma beat something alright. I gonna beat her a*s the next time she park in my parkin’ space like it belong to her. She ain’t no damn queen, Big Mama!” …Now beat in one egg…”She been a thorn in my side since the day I moved here. Hell, her name oughta be Gladys Cravats cause she always up in somebody else’s business!”

Beat in another egg…one teaspoon vanilla extract…”And that hen-pecked husband hers, following her around, licking her butt with his thick New York tongue! I hate this wench.”… Big Mama’s baby…

…One tablespoon of milk... “ I know, Big Mamma, I know! Lord, you know I don’t bother that woman. But she just won’t let me be. Can’t help it that the walls in these condos is thin as tissue paper. I don’t act a fool when she over there cussing her husband out, like ain’t no tomorrow. Or when they singing each other’s name and bumping that headboard against the wall, soun’ like Armageddon. That poor punk,” she shook her head, “He don’t never speak up for hisself, jus’ keep lettin’ her cuss him out, then hump his brains out. Walking ‘round the neighborhood wit her little paper and pencil, snitchin’ on erybody, like her s**t don’t stink! One day, Ima fix her a*s for erybody on this block. Ugh!”

One and a half cups of flour…one-third cup of unsweetened cocoa powder…The loud buzz of her cellphone caused her to fling flour all over the counter, the floor, and into her hair. Glancing at the caller id, she placed her hand on her hip. “Speak of the devil.” She palmed the phone, jerking it from its cradle, then switched gears, straight into “Meryl Streep mode”.

“Hey, Shandra! Girl, I was just thinking ‘bout you.”

“Well, praise the Lord! I hope you’re having a blessed day, but I’m calling to tell you that television was entirely TOO loud last night. I’d just hate to have to report you to the housing association again. But you know, as the neighborhood watch chairperson, it’s my job to make sure peace and tranquility reign for all who reside here in Paradise Acres”.

Latonia turned up her nose and made a grotesque face as she mimicked the words. “…make sure peace and tranquility is a guarantee for all who live in Paradise Acres”. Hell, she oughta know it! This hepher owned her mantra, never missing any opportunity to use it. It was like a broken record, WITH scratches. She gritted her teeth. “The blunt truth is-I am SO sorry. Musta fallen asleep. I promise to make it up to ya, though.”

“Well, my husband and I are celebrating my promotion tonight. I haven’t officially gotten it yet. Just a got a little test to take tomorrow, but I’m sure it’s mine. Who else at the station deserves it as much as I do?” Her giggle was artificial and her privileged, southernbellesque voice made Latonia quake with despisal and grit her teeth. She rolled her eyes and hid her contempt once more.

“Well that’s cool. Listen, I am a little busy right now, but I’m gonna catch up with ya later.” She had to hang up before she threw up. That hateful face danced all over the corners of her mind! She went back to her task. “ Hmph. Bragging bout her little po-lice job. She ain’t even a real po-lice. She a desk junkie. Don’t give a damn if she IS five-o, she don’t run nuthin’ roun’ here.”

…One fourth teaspoon baking soda…one half teaspoon of salt…now stir that into… Latonia shot her eyes toward the ceiling, begging Big Mama to stop. The whirl of the electric mixer sung like an Italian aria as she watched the chaos of the brownie ingredients dance into beautiful batter oneness.

… Two cups pecans...The pecans spilled into the mixture. Latonia completely froze. A wicked picture crept across her countenance. Silence bombarded the room. “Well, Ima speak up for myself today.” She did a slow sashay to the cabinet and tiptoed to remove a canister. Grinning from ear to ear, her brown eyes narrowed, she shook the contents into the mixture and said, “And one whole cup of my special secret ingredient.”

After meticulously dropping the spoonfuls of dough exactly two inches apart, she slid the baking sheet into the oven. In the den, she flopped onto the leather sofa, placed her headphones on her head, and let the serene smooth sounds of Miles Davis soothe her spirit. Shame she had to wear headphones, just to keep the peace with that idiot next door.

Three hours later, the brownies cooled more than she, she Big Momma’s favorite hymn, “Yield Not to Temptation,” as she spread a generous layer of whipped caramel then chunks of pecans atop the sinful delicacy.

DINGDONG! The conversation was brief and cordial. Latonia presented her “peace offering” brownies with much apology, explaining that it was “Big mamma’s special recipe.” Her words dripped invisible venom. Her pulse didn’t quicken one bit. She hummed some more, then nonchalantly took her victory walk back to her home, closed the door with a snicker, and fell in the floor laughing. If she could be a fly on the wall…Don’t mess with big Mamma’s baby… “Thank you, Big Momma,” she whispered, glancing again at the ceiling.

Shandra walked into work the next day feeling extremely tired and sluggish. She hoped she was not coming down with something. After completing her testing, the rest of her morning went like clockwork. She spent most of it imagining what she and her husband would do with the extra money her promotion would afford them.

“Captain wants to see you right away,” she heard Officer Archer say. This was it!!! She was really going to get it! She straightened her uniform and made a beeline for the Captain’s office.

“Yes, Captain.” She spat, unable to contain her excitement. Without looking up from his desk, he demanded, “Gun and badge on my desk, please.” The confident smile hit the floor hard, like a raw egg.

“Huh?” Was all she could manage. Her supervisor pointed to the corner of his desk. “Gun and badge, please,” raising his voice a bit.

“I’m being fired? Why?”

“Your skunk is outta the bag, so to speak. Your drug test told the story. We don’t employ potheads here.”

“But I�"“

…Don’t mess with Big Momma’s baby…