How to Cook Your Daughter by Jessica Hendra

How to Cook Your Daughter by Jessica Hendra

Author:Jessica Hendra
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780061974816
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


She cackled and floored the gas pedal, speeding up Avenue A at maybe forty or fifty. To me it seemed like at least a hundred. I looked at Jessica and began fumbling madly with the door. The lock wouldn’t budge.

“Forget that, baby cakes. I’ve got this cab all locked up, sugar tits!”

Jessica and I began screaming, and though Big Momma had locked the doors, I could still open the window on my side. “Roll your window down!” I yelled to Jessica, who looked like she might vomit. We hung our heads out, screaming into a rainy and profoundly empty Manhattan. Big Momma just kept driving, running every red light as promised. This is it! This is actually it! I thought as the streets flew by. Then a guardian angel—a big black guy with a leather jacket—crossed Avenue A and Fourteenth Street. Big Momma thought better of adding manslaughter to her growing rap sheet, and she slowed down. That was all we needed. I thrust myself out the open window, pulling Jessica along with me. We landed hard on the street, and I cut my hand on a broken bottle. Jessica turned her ankle coming down. At least we were free. The Checker screeched to a halt, but Big Momma’s bulk was in our favor. She struggled to extract her gigantic body from the front seat, and Jessica and I took off running, our guardian angel standing on the other side of Fourteenth Street, looking on in amazement as we fled. I turned back and saw Big Momma lifting her leg out of the car, waving her flabby arms at us and shouting, “Come on back, sweethearts. It was only a joke! It was only a joke, honey pies!”

We never thought to take her license plate number. We just got out of there fast. I didn’t get into a Checker cab again for at least a year. But I never really moderated my behavior. I couldn’t. After all, I was a bona fide “groupie” for certain bands—mostly of the British persuasion. And being out late at night was the only way to see them.



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