“I’ll never guess what?” snapped Hector Mendavey. He wasn’t in the mood to hear Edna’s whiny voice or play her little guessing games.

“She came to my house a little while ago with a huge nigger about nine feet tall and blacker than—”

“Who came, Edna? Who came to the house? Stop playing your goddamned guessing games for a minute. And stop your goddamned whining.”

“Your daughter. Theresa. That’s who came. Who do you think, Hector? Who do you think comes to this house with black men week after week, Hector?”

“She doesn’t come week after week.”

“I mean pitch-black. This time the black man was bigger and blacker than any black man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. They were holding hands like…like…like lovebirds!”

“See,” said Hector Mendavey, “didn’t I always say she was a bad kid? From birth she was a bad kid. Jesus Christ, how many kids get arrested in Disneyland?”

“Come on, Hector, running from one train car to another train car doesn’t seem like the crime of the century.”

“Yeah, well…”

“God damn it!” shouted Edna Mendavey into the telephone, suddenly furious, watching her next-door neighbor’s huge curly black standard poodle take another dump on her lawn! On her property, for God’s sake! The second shit that morning. And this one larger than the first! And only an hour apart! I mean, how many craps does a normal dog make in one morning and why the hell didn’t the fucking poodle crap in his own yard? Edna yelled her frustration out the closed window, “God damn it, you black bastard!”

“Easy, Edna,” said Hector. “Just simmer down and talk to me.”

“I’m going to poison that black son of a bitch.”

“How you gonna find him?”

“What do you mean how am I going to find him? He’s right next door!”

“He’s living next door! In the house next door to you?”

“Yes! I can see him right now.”

“I don’t know if you should kill him.”

“No? Well, he’s crapped twice on my lawn, Hector. Twice in the last ten minutes!”

“He did? Twice? How do you know?”

“I saw him, Hector!”

“You did? You actually saw him crap on your lawn?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Still, I wouldn’t kill him. Not for just doing that.”

“You wouldn’t? What a dolt you are, Hector. Well, I would.”

There was a moment of silence.

“So what are we going to do?” asked Edna Mendavey.

“About what?”

“About Theresa’s new nigger boyfriend.”

“Wasn’t that who we were just talking about? Theresa’s boyfriend? I thought you just told me you were gonna kill him.”

“I’m so confused,” whined Edna.

“You’re confused? Listen, Edna, I’ve got a foursome waiting for me at the club.”

“I guess you’re right, Hector.”

“About what, Edna?”

A fit of coughing engulfed the cripple again.