When I was young, I did some goofy things when a man hurt me. The late Michael Gerace aka "Geese" and I were an item for about 3 years. I was a bar box player when I met Geese, and he is the one who introduced me to the pool room with the 9-footers. It was in the '80s. Geese and I went on the road numerous times down South shooting pool. I won't go into all the happenings, suffice it to say there was the good, the bad, and the, oh, so ugly when it came to hustling pool during pool's golden years. :indecisive:
I knew Geese was a superstitious gambler, and once he started losing, everything out of his mouth was "black cats," "knockers," "nits," "your god is pulling against my god," et cetera. :shocked:
One day, Geese and I had a big fight and broke up. I wanted to get even. My girlfriend said she would carve me a voodoo doll of Geese out of soap. And she did.
Later that night, I snuck into the parking lot of the pool room and saw Geese's car, a white Grenada. I broke the arm off the voodoo doll and put it on the windshield, thinking he'd get spooked. :grin-devilish:
A few days later, Geese and I made up, and I admitted to him what I had done with the voodoo doll made out of soap with the broken arm. He started laughing hysterically and said, "I knew that was you. That was the funniest thing I've ever seen." Needless to say, I was embarrassed. :embarrassed2:
Anyway, we all do dumb things sometimes when it comes to affairs of the heart. We think with our heart instead of our brain; thus, why I shared my soap voodoo doll story.
