My New Family
An orphanage. Whenever I drive by one, I feel a small pang of guilt. You see, if not for Carol and Marcus, I could have ended up staying there myself.
I don't know how I survived living there for my first three years but I did. Now I have a mom and dad who love me and I love them. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe it's time to tell my side of the story finally.
I don't remember my mother and father at all. I know that we lived near Nebraska and that my father was abusive. I still have a scar on my arm where he fell asleep smoking a cigarette and holding me. I know a guy that knows a guy that knows a few of, the more enterprising police officers so I've read the police report.
He came home drunk one night and they got into a fight. She ended up shooting him with the.38 that was normally hidden in the dresser drawer. It didn't kill him though, somehow, he got the gun away from her and shot her twice, once in the stomach and once on the left side of her chest.
When the police arrived after a neighbor reported hearing shots, my father committed suicide by eating one of those slugs. The report also said that I had no living relatives. So, I was sent to a group home until someone adopted me or until I turned 18 whichever came first. This happened when I was around 13 months old.
I was adopted by Carol and Marcus when I was four. I don't remember much about the orphanage, but I remember that the other children were jealous of me. They said that a white couple, in their thirties, living in Nebraska would only want a nigger to be their slave.
I didn't even know what a nigger was, though I knew that all the other children were white and I wasn't. I had no idea what a slave was but by the way they said the word, even at four, I knew it couldn't be good. Little did I know that Carol and Marcus were the best thing that ever happened to me.
They were somewhere around thirty and a sort of mismatched couple. For starters, Carol had red hair and blue eyes and wore a lot of perfume. But that wasn't the first thing you noticed when you saw her for the first time.
You first noticed that she was pushing around 120 pounds on a five-foot-six frame, and then you saw the 38DDs that preceded her everywhere. She loved to flirt, most women that size are very self-conscious. Not Carol: she saw the world as her oyster and she was the pearl.
It's funny how a sunny and flirtatious person can attract more attention than a snobbish supermodel, but that was Carol. Marcus on the other hand looked like a stick with feet. He had black hair and brown eyes and stood about to the sky to my small state of four. In actuality, he was only six feet tall. He had a mustache that the other kids said looked like a caterpillar on his lip....it did, but Carol liked it. What the woman wants she gets. I guess that's why they adopted me.
Carol couldn't have children, so she decided adoption was the only way she would have one. As I said, we lived in Nebraska where Marcus owned a 400-acre ranch; small by Nebraska standards, but it was still an impressive piece of land. For two years, we lived and worked on that farm, hunting, tending beef cattle, raising a garden, and caring for the chickens.
You could say that I was on my way to being a cowboy for even at six I already knew how to saddle and ride a horse. Imagine that a modern-day black cowboy. The court representative even stopped coming after the first two years.
Carol and Marcus insisted that I should sleep in the room next to theirs since there was a cyclone warning, that way if I became scared, they would be right there. I had just turned 18 when there was a Cyclone warning.
As the wind intensified, and the house shook I climbed out of my bed and went to Mom and Marcus' room. (I wasn't allowed to call him "dad", only Marcus.)
Quietly opening the door, I saw Carol's incredibly huge ass bouncing up and down on Marcus' face. Completely nude, she glistened in the soft light of the nightstand lamp.
Lying on his back, you could barely see any of his upper body, but the bottom was on a painful display.
