Revoltingly Young by C.D. Payne Read Free Book Online

woman’s hand.”
    A good sign! Uma has spies reporting on my every move.
    “ That was my mother. She only sees me every ten years, so she gets a bit carried away.”
    “ My parents are divorced too.”
    A personal revelation!
    “ Is your father remarried?”
    “ No, thank God. He was seeing a woman in Gulfport, but he hasn’t met anybody here yet.”
    “ You lived in Mississippi?”
    “ For seven years. My father owned a casino boat, but he didn’t like the South.”
    “ He likes Winnemucca better?” I asked, incredulous.
    “ He loves it. Go figure.”
    A fat slob of a security guard strolled over.
    “ Is this person bothering you, Uma?”
    “ No, it’s OK, Marvin.”
    Big dumb Marvin didn’t seem to get the message.
    “ We don’t permit loitering in this lobby, kid. You better move it.”
    “’ Bye, Uma.”
    “’ Bye, Noel.”
    Uma actually knows my name! But that pushy rent-a-cop had better watch out. He’ll be sorry when the NAACP drags his sorry ass into court on a discrimination charge.
    10:22 p.m. After much soul-searching I have made up my mind. The next time I see Uma I’m going to ask her out. This will be difficult, but it must be done. There are over six billion people on this planet. Even allowing for all those arranged marriages, at least one billion guys must have asked out a billion or so chicks. If Eskimos can do it, if guys garbed only in penis gourds in New Guinea can do it, if reticent English twits can do it, God dammit, so can I!
     
    THURSDAY, July 7 – Still no e-mail reply from my loving brother Nick. Just think, if I’d asked him for the antidote to botulism poisoning, I’d be dead and buried by now.
    No leakage last night again, but I forgot my garden gloves, and my red, wrinkly thumb may be ruined for life. I found a sadistic advice site on the web that recommends rubbing the nail with peppermint oil or a freshly sliced jalapeño pepper to discourage T.S. Yeah, and if that doesn’t work, mothers, try amputating the offending digit with a meat cleaver.
    7:25 p.m. More weddings. Sometimes it feels like everyone is getting married except me. I’d say about two-thirds of our couples are pretty affectionate, but a solid one-third interact like they were there for an IRS tax audit. I discussed this phenomenon with Grandma at dinner. She knows all about human relations from her many years of listening to the dirt from hair clients. According to her, marriage is the last step many couples take in the process of breaking up. A quick stop at the Dixie Belle is actually faster and cheaper than couple’s counseling. And much smarter than blowing the budget on a big church wedding right before that final split.
    Silly me. I thought we were joining all those lovebirds for life.
    Speaking of Cosmic Love, I’m still dateless. After working myself into a tizzy, I sent Toby in to buy another candy bar. No Uma. Her work hours seem most irregular. Fat Marvin was there giving me the evil eye. I got a closer look at that cretin’s nametag. Won’t you know it, he’s a Tuelco–the old man’s youngest son, according to Grandma. I think ol’ Gus should have pulled out early that night.
    10:45 p.m. I’ve been researching the female vagina. This is quite easy these days, thanks to the profusion of porn sites on the Internet. You can get some full-color views from a true gynecologist’s perspective. Seems a pretty simple affair–at least from the outward appearance. Not nearly as much variation as you get with penises, which should be helpful for us neophytes. I think it’s great there’s so much information out there these days. I can just imagine how mystified my dad or grandfather must have felt when they first started poking around down there. Of course, this information exposure only heightens my desire to experience the real thing. I wonder if Uma finds the subject (carnal relations) similarly captivating?
    That question I hope to answer soon.
     
    FRIDAY, July 8 – Payday at