“Oh, okay, so it’s like that, huh? I come over here to bring you some holiday cheer and this is how I’m treated? I clean your little nasty kitchen, kept poor Muggly from choking to death from dust inhalation from your little nasty living room, and this is the thanks I get? To be attacked and disrespected like this? After I spent seventy-two and a half hours in labor, tearing up my body, struggling to give your little bitter manless self some life. This is the thanks I get? Well, you’re welcome! And I’m leaving!” she said, grabbing her purse, preparing to go. “I’m not going to let you ruin my good mood, especially a week before my youngest child celebrates the happiest day of her life. Do me a favor, Pigpen; try not to bring your little funky attitude to an otherwise festive occasion, ’cause we don’t need it!” she said, reaching the door.

“First of all, I’m not bringing a funky attitude because I’m not going to have a funky attitude.”

“I don’t see how not. If I had been a spectator at as many weddings and engagement parties as you have, I might be a little musty.”

“Well, maybe this time I won’t be a spectator because this time I’ll have a fiancé of my own. How ’bout that? Whatcha think about that? Huh? Huh, Momma? I don’t hear you, don’t hear you! Say somthin’!” Caught in celebrating my own verbal lashing, shuffling like Ali and believing I had won, it suddenly occurred to me that I had just handed to her on a silver platter the platinum nail she would use to seal my coffin. Uh oh. “Momma?” I said, taking it down several notches.

It was too late. Immediately her mood and expression changed from anger to joy. She began shouting, dancing, and speaking in tongues.

“You have a fiancé? Oh thank you, Jesus! The prayers of the righteous availeth much! What’s his name? Where’s he from? What’s his denomination? Is he a Pentecostal, Baptist, Southern Baptist, Church of God in Christ—?”

“Momma, slow down a second.”

“Slow down? I’ve been waiting thirty-five years to hear this. Forgive me if I’m a bit overwhelmed. What’s his name?”

“His name is…is…I’ll tell you at the engagement party. It’s a surprise.”

“He’s coming with you, isn’t he? I mean, this would be the perfect opportunity to introduce him to the family. They’ll all be there.”

“Yes, he’s coming. But, Momma, it’s a surprise. Please. Please. Please, do not tell a soul. Read my lips, Momma, do not tell a soul!”

“Your secret is safe with Momma.”

Noticing at least a thousand winks from her eyes, with her hands, legs, arms, fingers, and toes crossed, I knew that within moments the entire planet would know my plans for engagement.