Doom Fox by Iceberg Slim

Author:Iceberg Slim [Slim, Iceberg]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780857869791
Google: s3hTc8dhpMsC
Amazon: 0857869795
Publisher: Canongate Books
Published: 1998-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

10

Young Joe was severely guilt shaken by his belief that, in revenge for Zenobia's death, he had nudged his stepfather into the grave. He had narrowly escaped a nervous breakdown. But time, five years of it, has diminished the angst of his neurotic guilt. That is except when he finds himself within eye shot of Elder Joe's backyard tulip bed sprinkled with his ashes and pauses to flay himself.

It is a fat mooned midnight in the year 1953 when Joe is awakened by the racket of a neighbor's squabble with his wife. A moment later he hears five-year-old Joe Junior flush the toilet, then patter past in the hallway on his way back to his bed in Elder Joe's old bedroom. Joe lies free of the imp of his guilt in the paradise of his mind created by the vision of his Creole Goddess, Reba, beside him in Zenobia's master bedroom. He gazes at her and the derby hatted knight of his man-prince rears a blue black awesome shadow across the moonlit valley of her sleek gold dusted thighs still sheening the illusion of girlish attraction.

He poises a callused palm above her nipple on the lam through the lace bars of her nightgown. He glances into a double crib at bedside, gazes at miniatures of Reba, twin girls, two months old. He tussles with the paranoid notion that his ugliness is so potent that at least some tiny bit of it should show on the twins if he is really their blood daddy. He twiddles his thumbs as he remembers their mutual colic has drastically cut into Reba's sleep for several nights. And too, he remembers, Reba still complains of too much soreness for intercourse since the twins' birth. He left jabs his monster for creating the frustrating emergency.

Behind the sham of closed eyelids, Reba quakes and mentally crosses fingers that she won't be summoned to perform the most onerous of her marital duties. She flinches when his Brillo Pad palm scrapes across her nipple. One of his sandpaper caresses before he mounts me to batter ram me, she tells herself bitterly.

She listens to Joe's coarse pooch panting and remembers Gibran's heady lyrics of love that Felix, her teenage wizard of woo, would be breathing at this juncture. And she remembers, with heart pit excitement how then Felix's vicuna soft hands and tongue would caress her and thrill her to her jade painted toenails. She snarls when one of Joe's meat hooks gouges a hunk of her buttock.

But she is grateful that Joe the baby sitter, with his aversion to a Felix related event, has threatened to boycott the picnic for a beer bash and catfish fry at Panther Cox's. Since Joe is the only sitter she will trust, her two month cherry will languish at home, unplucked by Felix in the picnic jungles. They had giggled like demented felons at the doomsday risk, with the vision of sleuth Joe handcuffed by Junior and twins while they pull off their caper in the woods.

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