Now that Ernest Bordelon is dead…

1. Stank Vultures circle around his farm.  Feather-free ones with two legs, no beaks, wearing pants. Some slithering man came sniffing over the Bordelon land and Ernest wuddunt even in the groun(d).  Mr. Landry and his crew don’t call themselves Stank Vultures.  I do.  I’m sure they’ll show up again in this tale.
2. Journalistic vultures circle around the decaying marriage of Charley and Davis West. Nova’s journalistic virtues shoo away those marital carrion nippers at her newspaper workplace.
3. Two men want to be there for their women to help them grieve. One woman, Nova, does not want her man to meet her family. I wonder why some reason their relationship a secret. She’s black, he appears white. Appears, I say, because we roll in all skin shades. We still don’t know his life, but we get snippets here and there. Another woman, Charley, is grieving the loss of what she thought was a pristine marriage. Davis wants to grieve with his family, but his family wants him to Get Gone.
4.  Ralph Angel attempts to shield Blue from hard reality… The folks in your life gone DIE. Auntie Vi disagrees and says Blue needs closure just like the adults.
   
   Blue’s mom was supposed to watch him during the funeral. Vi doesn’t really like Darla… call her a “No-account girl.” Not sure what that means, but I know it ain’t nothing sweet. So Ms. No Account was supposed to watch Blue during the service, but her boss said she couldn’t leave work early even though she had someone to cover for her. He pretty much told her if she left she wouldn’t have a job to return to. She was trying to be a one-account-having girl… but sometimes those circumstances
5. Charley and Nova don’t agree how to honor their dad at the repast. And this happens:

Family ties, lingering questions
So why is there a simmering tension between Nova and Charley?

What else is there to Ralph Angel’s story? And the story of his relationship with Darla? She’s a recovering addict? From what substance, I don’t know. But I pray for that child. Not real me. My fictitious self prays for her. The same fictitious self who cooks seven days a week, eats hamburgers for lunch every day and drinks hooch .

#thatisall