Prophecy of a Gypsy Girl
Basic training was a joy to me. It was designed to train the mind into taking orders and strengthen the body to go beyond its threshold of pain. I loved the challenge of pushing my body as far as it could go and beyond. Military life suited me just fine. It sharpened me up like one of my grandfather’s deadly steak knives.
I was beginning to embrace a measure of freedom now from my depressed uncertainty, from the Negro drama of college and the high blood pressure of corporate America. The military looked like a perfect vehicle for me to work the full extent of my magic. Basic training put me in a high where my physical body was humming with the same intense vitality as my mind. I was under no delusion of patriotism though.
On the weekends, I’d enjoy the exceptional female citizenry of Southern Carolina. There was this bowling alley not far from base where every Sunday I found myself surrounded by the most sumptuous ladies in town.
This dance between the sexes, that romantic ebb and flow (as by now you know) has always been my great passion. It wasn’t about sex, although occasionally I’d lay it on a few fortunate ones, it was about capturing a woman’s love and imagination. Enjoying the admiration and fascination of a woman truly is one of life’s greatest pleasures
One Sunday I noticed a big gypsy man polishing an older model Cadillac around the corner from the bowling alley. He had a distinguishing air of friendly openness that was quite intriguing. He waved me over, an invitation.
I walked into the yard and introduced myself. He looked like an olive-colored santa with an old corduroy fedora instead of a beard. He was an enormous man with his britches pulled high up over his gigantic stomach.
“Come, my son, let the sisters pray for you.”
Pray, for me? I wasn’t interested in no shit like that. But I was intrigued and my intuition gave no opposition, so he led me inside his humble little abode.
There, on the couch sat this gorgeous gypsy girl. She was small of build and wore loose, flowing clothes probably made with her own hands. She was the epitome of a stereotypical gypsy: a haphazard blend of all the best racial features, swarthy skin, and long, thick hair like mink framed her face, flowing down to her back.
I heard her thoughts jump into my arms as she looked up at me. She liked what she saw, as did I.
I get to do him?
Yes, darling, do me.
She arose with a Mona Lisa smirk and beckoned me into a back room behind a black curtain. Incense or something refreshingly aromatic clouded the air. She sat and held my hand, looking deeply into my eyes. An electricity mischievously danced between us. If this is prayer, maybe I’ll convert to her religion.
Suddenly she became an oracle. She ran it down about my childhood, my hometown, my mother, my outlook on life, my ambitions, everything really.
She saw my desire to travel to Japan and indeed, she said, I would go to Japan. Everything will be easy for me because I was born under an especially lucky sign.
Yes, I would fulfill all my highest aspirations. I would experience a little difficulty in Japan but it will pass, just trust my instincts. The well-wishing was welcome but I was a little skeptical. She picked up on it.
“I see that you are doubtful so I’m going to give you a confirmation. Listen carefully, something that you are very good at you will not be able to do, and something you’ve never before done you will be able to do exceedingly well.” She repeated it.
“This will remove your doubts. Would you please give something to support the sisters?”
I had a fifty-cent piece in my pocket, I put it in her hand and left somewhat perplexed. What kind of prayer was that?
I put it out of my mind and went straight away to the bowling alley. Every gorgeous lady in South Carolina had to have been there that day.
Long ago I had mastered the icebreaker, so I could cut in and dance with all the various degrees and hues of womanhood.
I’ve always enjoyed strength with women, but today I couldn’t get a second glance. I might as well been invisible. No smiles, no conversation, nothing.
For the first and only time in my life I was experiencing the bitter pill of rejection from the opposite sex.
I washed up, checked my breath and underarms - what the hell is wrong here? I’m as devastatingly handsome as ever. Being a professional I reappeared with a new determination yet still received that bitter pill.
I was in utter disbelief. I got so frustrated I picked up a bowling bowl, put on some ridiculous looking shoes and made an attempt at bowling.
I had never bowled in my life. How difficult could it be? I glanced to my left and right observing how to pick up the bowl, bend your knees, observe the pins ahead of you, and let the ball roll down the lane. I just mimicked what I saw.
Strike! I tried it again. Strike! One more time... Strike! Everytime I threw the ball down that alley I knocked down all the pins... everytime. I asked my fellow bowlers about the game, how I was doing, how to score myself. No one believed it was my first time.
“Are you sure you’ve never played before?” “Never. What’s the significance of ten pins?” I became a sensation. Everytime I was up to bat a larger crowd would
form. I went into my little stance, concentrated on those ten pins and let loose. Strike! The crowd cheered!
Inevitably, I bowled a perfect game. The owner came out and took my picture to put up on the hall of fame. All those gorgeous babes who acted deaf, blind, and dumb were surrounding me now.
That’s when the words of the gypsy girl struck me down, “Something you’ve never done you will do extremely well, and something you do extremely well you will not be able to do at all.”
Now I believe you young lady. My confidence shot to ten once again. Japan, I’m coming for you.