Well…another whirlwind romance has slipped through my fingers like the Celts’ game 5 loss vs. the Hawks.
I’m at the park with my alleged son last Sunday in Fields Corner. He’s holdin it down playing tag with a bunch of Cambodian kids with rat tails by the swings, so I decide to dip across the street real quick and cop some vodka and juice to ease the sting of this thing they call life. I walk by a non descript yt caravan, and hear a raspy voice in a hoodrat twang say, “Hi Daaaavid.” I look in the buggy, and there she is. Tova fucking Robinson.
I was a 17 year old junior, and she was a 20 year old senior at West Roxbury High. She took two years off cuz she had a kid at 15.
I pulled her largely due to my prowess as point guard for Thee Westie Raiders.
Tova reaped all the physical benefits of the slave trade. Her body was savory. In one word, she was slavory. She had the banginnest body in the history of Boston Public Schools. Wesley Snipes complexion. Thighs like Vinny Johnson. Haircut… like Anita Baker.
We dated hard for two weeks. I’d pick Tova and her daughter up in my mother’s Ford Granada and take them out to eat on Route 1. Our romance ended when her baby daddy took a nutty and threw a rock through her bedroom window while I was giving her the business.
I told her we should take some time off.
Translation: I’m a light-skinned fgt who aint tryin to deal with your Ike Turner ass choice of a sperm donor. I”m off this.
The next day in school, some chick stepped to Tova in the cafeteria. Within seconds, Tova was sitting on said chick’s chest while methodically banging her head on the floor and slappin holy fire out the trick. I never saw her again. I figured she either got suspended, or got jail time. What a God damn body. Brick shit house.
So boom. There we are sipping Vodka Snapple’s in the van while our kids play in the park. She tells me her son’s name is “Denver”…because it’s a presidents name. One day he will be president. Oh boy.
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