“I know you,” said Simple, “which is enough. As many beers as you have bought me right here at this bar, and as often as you lent me a buck when I was trying to make the week, you deserve to be my best man. So no arguments! Now that my luck is turned, daddy-o, you’ll be there at the finish.”

“Thanks, old man,” I said. “Certainly you seem to be coming out ahead at last—a free divorce from a wife you don’t like, no contest, no expenses, and, all but for the formalities, a new wife you love.”

“I am coming out ahead for once,” said Simple, “which just goes to prove what’s in that little old toast I learned from my Uncle Tige. Listen fluently:

When you look at this life you’ll find

It ain’t nothing but a race.

If you can’t be the winning horse,

Son, at least try to place.

“I believe I have placed—so let’s drink to it.”

“You have won,” I said.

“Providing that Negro in Baltimore keeps his promise to my wife. If he don’t, as sure as my name is Simple, I will go down there and beat his head.”

“Do you mean to say you’d lay hands on your first wife’s second husband?”

“Listen! I married Isabel for better or for worse. She couldn’t do no better than to get a free divorce,” said Simple. “That man made my wife a promise. He better not betray her. If he does, he’ll have me to contend with because I dare him to stand in my way. I’ll fix him! Just like that toast says:

If they box you on the curve, boy,

Jockey your way to the rail,

And when you get on the inside track—

Sail!… Sail!… Sail!

In a race, daddy-o,

One thing you will find—

There ain’t NO way to be out in front

Without showing your tail

To the horse behind.”

“One regrets,” I said, “that, after all, life is a conflict.”

“I leave them regrets to you,” said Simple.

Seven Rings

Seven Rings