"Y'all shouldn't be doing that, now carry me down to the market."
Alberta snorted as she got into the 1956 Buick Special that her grandson had just decorated with whitewall tires and a new antenna.
As he turned up the radio, she raised her voice to address the previous conversation. "Terry, you were flirtin' around with those youngins and you'll get those girlies in trouble."
Terry looked out the window, thinking about Joydean's pregnancy last year. He really couldn't afford another baby. GrandMa Alberta might be old, but she ain't no dummy he thought.
Both of them settled down and Terry dropped Alberta off at the door. It had started to rain and he was pretty darn good about protecting her. Telling her he would be back in about an hour, he sped off back onto the highway.
He had only driven a short distance when he saw a sight that caused him to swell like a polecat. Joydean and some young punk were walking hand in hand down the road. Who was that boy?
So, she's got her another man? Well, maybe that other little girl didn't look so bad. He pressed the gas pedal and headed towards the park where he had been talkin' to Jazzy.
It wasn't ten minutes until they were wrapped around each other in the back seat of his car. Perspiring like crazy, all of a sudden he remembered Alberta at the store.
He was now driving over the speed limit to make it back to the market. I don't see her. He ran into the store and caught words, "Terry, she fell out from the heat." Gone.
6 June 2013