Meet the Queen of Twerk

I don’t know about you but I’m not into this cold weather. It’s way too cold out there. I’m telling you, I can be indoors from the cold for half and hour and the cold is still deep in my bones. Plus, I wasn’t sleeping so well ’til the last two nights. It sho’ nuff is something to wake up, feeling like you haven’t slept but five good minutes and then have to face the cold while dark is still out. But I’m not here to whine, though I realize I just did…So. Whatever… I’m really here to share this personalized postcard from Beatrice who’s found her place under the sun.

Beatrice in Jamaica

“Beatrice in Jamaica” Color Pencil/Marker on paper. Copyright 2014 Totsymae

Hello, you fabulous people trying to stay warm. I am so delighted to be with you from where I am, I just had to share. Yes, I’m sipping from a coconut and have picked up a rasta as I listen to dis raggae, mon. Dem beats play in de background and I do tink I’ve picked up an accent, yah. Peace to you and glory to the sun while dis girl has herself some fun. Miley, take some lessons from the people who invented twerking, okay?

Murder, She Wrote

Maxine looked out her window at the neighborhood from her second floor, blowing halos of smoke from those dark lips and lactating while the baby lay screaming in the crib. The perfect life of birthing a child and marrying Sammy hadn’t come together after all. Never had she figured he’d lay dead by her hands for wanting to leave. Sure did wish the child would cease all that hollering. She finished out the last of her smoke and pushed back from the window opening. Darn near tripped over Sammy, blood still warm, when she lifted the baby to feed it.

Copyright 2014 Totsymae