What Kind of Fool? and Other Short Stories

By Jay Thomas Willis

This book contains twenty-four short stories from what the author considers the best stories from seven of his other books of short stories. These stories have been revised and re-edited. They come in part from his life experiences. They mimic his life experiences, but in no way are a direct depiction of those experiences. They are far from reality, and more like the author’s fantasies about what could have happened.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669861546

Jay Thomas Willis

Jay Thomas Willis graduated from Stephen F. Austin State University with a B.S. degree in sociology. He also graduated from Texas Southern University with a M.Ed. in counseling, in addition to receiving a MSW in social work from the University of Houston. Willis has held numerous social work positions.

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What Kind of Fool?

and Other

Short Stories

Jay Thomas Willis

Copyright © 2023 by Jay Thomas Willis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 12/30/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

849966

Also by Jay Thomas Willis

Nonfiction

A Penny for Your Thoughts: Insights, Perceptions, and Reflections on the African American Condition

Implications for Effective Psychotherapy with African Americans

Freeing the African-American’s Mind

God or Barbarian: The Myth of a Messiah Who Will Return to Liberate Us

Finding Your Own African-Centered Rhythm

When the Village Idiot Get Started

Nowhere to Run or Hide

Why Black Americans Behave as They Do: The Conditioning Process from Generation to Generation

God, or Balance in the Universe

Over the Celestial Wireless

Paranoid but not Stupid

Nothing but a Man

Things I Never Said

Word to the Wise

Born to Be Destroyed: How My Upbringing Almost Destroyed Me

Nobody but You and Me: God and Our Existence in the Universe

Got My Own Song to Sing: Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome in My family

Random Thoughts on My Reality

A Word to My Son: A Celebration

Messed-Up Kid

Off-the-Top Treasures

Going with the Flow

Man’s Basic Purpose

God Told Me to Tell You

My Life and Times: Some Personal Essays

Life’s Lessons: Some Passing Thoughts

Why I Write: Notes Straight from the Hip

Just Jazzing: Thoughts from the Depth of My Soul

It’s Good to Be Alive: Focusing on the Positive Rather Than the Negative

Fiction

No Worldly Options Except Suicide or Schizophrenia: But God Has His Own Plans

You Can’t Get There from Here

Where the Pig Trail Meets the Dirt Road

The Devil in Angelica

As Soon as the Weather Breaks

The Cotton is High

Hard Luck

Educated Misunderstanding

Dream On: Persistent Themes in My Dreams

Longing for Home and Other Short Stories

Promises I Must Keep: Maintaining My Family’s Legacy

Poetry

Reflections on My Life: You’re Gonna Carry That Weight a Long Time

It’s a Good Day to Die: Some Personal Poetry About the Ups and Downs in My Life

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Introduction

1The Unexpected Bridegroom

2Fighting for the Big-Time Supervisor’s Role

3Searching for a Ghost: The Old Grey Mare Ain’t What She Used to Be

4Purebred and the Beast

5Some and Others say

6A Hard Lesson

7My Ship Came In

8What Kind of Fool?

9The Bus Ride

10My Best Brandy and Scotch

11Country Boy In the City

12What Friends Will Do

13Upscale Stalker in Silk Stockings

14Where the Pig Trail Meets the Dirt Road

15Disunion

16The Great Escape

17Betrayal

18Stretching My Wings

19The Cotton is High

20Upscale Deception

21Get All the Information

22My Career as a Truck Driver

23Unexpected Summer Love

24Blues for a Black Blonde

About the Author

Sources

Dedication

To Mr. G

Acknowledgments

Thanks to all my teachers, professors, family, friends, significant others, and relatives for helping me to develop an imagination that would lead to the writing of these stories.

Thanks to all those who provided love and support during my life. They are too numerous to mention.

Thanks to my father and brother wade for being supportive role models.

Again, thanks to the Almighty God for putting me in the time, place, and space that would lead to the development of my imagination.

Introduction

What Kind of Fool? and Other Short Stories is a collection of twenty-four of the author’s published short stories that came from seven of his other books of short stories. The seven books of short stories include: Dream On: Persistent Themes in My Dreams; Promises I Must Keep: Maintaining My Family’s Legacy; Educated Misunderstanding; Hard Luck; Longing for Home and Other Short Stories; The Cotton is High and Other Short Stories; and Where the Pig Trail Meets the Dirt Road. These twenty-four short stories are considered some of his best short stories. The stories in this book have been re-edited and revised to improve their readability. They came in part from some of his life experiences.

The author grew up on an isolated-dirt farm in a rural area of East Texas. The earliest he can remember was when he was approximately three-years old. He had on a dress and pigtails in his hair. His brother was plowing in the field. It was July and the corn was tall. Farm animals ran through the yard. They had no electricity, gas, plumbing, or telephone. He lived in a drafty-old, rusty-tin-roof shack, that existed in the middle of nowhere.

The land was full of rocks and would only grow the hardiest of weeds. As he became of age, he would plow a mule from sunup to sunset until he was eighteen and left home. He did get electricity when he was in first grade but didn’t get gas until he was a freshman in high school, a telephone as a sophomore in college, and some makeshift plumbing many years after college.

Until first grade there was no road to his house, only a three-mile trail. This trail had overhanging tree limbs, tall grass, and ditches wide as a house. When it rained the trail became a flood plain. He had to walk that three-mile trail to the bus stop every morning and evening. In first grade a dirt road was constructed that led to his front door. The school bus began to pick them up at their front door.

The author’s parents left him to survive with the animals, and he made it the best way he could. His mother was unaffectionate and left him to his own devices. During his early years there were few visitors, mainly because of the trail situation. He was mostly isolated from other people. Once they got the dirt road, his brother came home for a brief period. This brother encouraged him in school, took him where he wanted to go, and bought him some of the things he needed. This brother was his saving grace. His isolation led him to stutter. There were no speech therapists in the area. The school also did not have a speech therapist. He would never get any help for his speech.

There was mental illness, philandering, alcoholism, psychological, and physical abuse in his family. His father worked 300 miles away, and his mother only cared about the management of the farm. Neither his mother nor father cared much about their children getting an education. They only went to school because it was a requirement by the state. His brothers nor sisters got much education, and subsequently had difficulty finding a decent job. His mother tried to discourage him from attending school, but he was determined to get what he could from the educational system.

The author got picked on a lot because he was scrawny, undernourished, and had a speech impediment. He was small and frail for his age. Boys three years behind him in school were bigger and stronger than he was. In addition, he was mostly ignored and looked over by his teachers. For most of his youth he was isolated from other children in the community and spent most of his time working on that dirt farm.

When he was sixteen his brother bought him a car. This got him out of some of his isolation. He could at least get off that dirt farm and go where he wanted to go.

His elementary, junior high, and high school experience was inadequate; but somehow, he grew up and went to college. Always behind the eight ball because he wasn’t prepared for the rigors of academia. For the most part he was out of place, and a stranger in a strange land.

If it hadn’t been for his father’s Social Security benefits, it is unlikely that he would ever have had the opportunity to attend college. He had nine older sisters and brothers but received no help for college from any of them. He knew his parents could barely survive and would be unable to provide any assistance.

He graduated college and joined the Navy and later attended graduated school in social work. After which, he moved to a South Suburb of Chicago. He has been in the south suburbs for the past forty-eight years. He studied toward a Ph.D. at two different universities while holding down a full-time job, but never was able to successfully complete the degree. Worked on several jobs in the Chicago area. Also, taught college classes part-time, and worked several other jobs part-time. He was in private practice for several years. He has been retired for the past twenty years. He was fortunate to be able to send two children to college, has a decent home, and adequate transportation.

These stories mimic some of his experiences, but in no way depict the total reality of these experiences. They are only fiction and far from reality. The stories represent more of what the author wanted to happen rather than what happened in his life. The good, bad, and ugly times are represented. You will enjoy all these stories, while getting into the world of an African American male, who was hungry and determined to get from point A to point B.

1

The Unexpected Bridegroom

I got out of the military in June 1972. The Navy shipped me back to Houston. The Navy asked me where I wanted to go. I stayed with my brother Henry in the heart of Houston’s Third Ward for a few months. I didn’t have transportation or means to survive on my own. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment and didn’t keep it up very well. It was the only viable option I had for a living arrangement. I had four sisters living in Dallas but didn’t feel comfortable imposing on any of them. But I was ambitious and wanted to do something with my life. I had always tended to be ambitious and high-minded. I had a difficult time getting a job because my brother didn’t have a telephone. Most employers at the time wanted to reach you by phone to set up an interview. If you didn’t have a phone, they would overlook your application and likely place it in the trash. On top of all that, my mobility was limited. I found out later that Henry was drinking heavily, using drugs, and engaging in other negative behaviors. Henry had friends that had a negative influence on him. I found out later that he had a phone but disconnected it as soon as I arrived so I wouldn’t add to his telephone bill. He purchased some Little Friskies meat patties, intended for a dog, but he didn’t have a dog. I could only assume they were meant for me to eat. I had to get out of there. I was as glad to leave as he was to get rid of me.

My first thought was to start all over with my college and find a new major, something in a more marketable field. I considered law or optometry but decided to stick with something closely related to what I had majored in at college. In college my major was sociology. I didn’t think I was cut out to be a lawyer. I should have gone to law school while engaging in speech therapy. I didn’t think my speech was cultivated enough to be a lawyer because of my speech impediment. To be an optometrist, I would have to practically start all over. I hadn’t had many science courses. I applied to college and was accepted. In September I moved to the dormitory on the college campus. I hadn’t had a job, and my brother had barely kept food in the refrigerator. The government would give me a monthly stipend for attending school. I went back to school to get a Masters’ degree in counseling and guidance. It was the only Masters’ program the school had that was applicable to my area of emphasis in college.

I moved into the dorm and stayed for approximately one semester. Someone broke into my room and stole some of my clothing and several other items. I believe somebody who knew me was responsible for the theft. My roommate wanted to get an apartment, so we did get a two-bedroom apartment near the campus. It was a nice apartment except we didn’t have much furniture. All we had was a couple of beanbags, some waterbeds, and what came with the apartment.

That summer semester I had to do an internship. I did mine at the college counseling center. Internships were difficult to get. There was also a young Haitian girl doing her internship at the counseling center. I hadn’t met her in any of my classes. She was a beautiful Haitian girl. She had smooth skin, was approximately 30-22-30—skinny like I like them, five-feet-five, nice legs, and face, kept her hair permed, 115 lbs., and was otherwise immaculate and neat. I liked her and wanted to get to know her, but we maintained as much professionalism as possible at the counseling center.

About the second week of the summer semester, she approached me one day while at lunch, Most men would have asked me out by now, why haven’t you? We’ve been working together several weeks.

I had no idea that she liked me.

I guess other things have been on my mind. I must find a job before the end of the summer semester. So far, nothing has turned up for me. I’m on my own and have no one to support me. I know that’s how it is supposed to be. Anyway, how can I take you out? I don’t even have a car.

Why is that?

My funds are limited, I said, I just got out of the military.

But you can ride with me. I have a brand new, Pontiac GTO, she said, reaching out and touching my hand.

By the way, what’s your full name? I asked.

Sandra Jean-Pierre, she said.

Can I call you Sandra, smiling but looking serious.

What’s your full name? she asked.

Robert Mason, I said proudly.

Nice to meet you, I heard the staff call you Robert.

I heard the staff call you Sandra. I have been going to school on government funds, but they will end when I graduate.

I was to graduate at the end of the summer semester.

I am a teacher at Walden high school. I’ve been teaching math and science there for the past two years. They are looking for two counselors. Why don’t you apply?

Give me the contact information and I will apply.

OK, she said, I will bring it to you tomorrow. I plan to take the second position. I’m tired of teaching. I don’t like it as well as I thought I would. I believe I will like counseling better.

She brought me that information, and I applied the next day. She helped me to get all the forms completed. Several days later I went in for an interview. There were several men and women sitting around a big conference table.

I see you were in the Navy. How did you like it? the principal asked.

I liked it fine for the time I spent. I only signed up for two years, I said.

I thought most people who signed up for the Navy did four years, he said.

It was a special deal. I told the recruiter when I signed up that I needed some time to think. He told me that I could do two years rather than four.

What made you consider counseling, he asked.

I wanted to do something related to my field of study in college. Counseling was a good match to sociology.

Have you worked with children before? he asked.

I worked with young boys at a group home for about a year while in college.

Did you like it? he asked.

It was a good experience.

Why did you leave?

I graduated, I said.

Well! You’ve got the job. Can you report on the 26th of August to get some preliminary paperwork taken care of? Be there at nine o’clock, he gave me the address of the place I was to report.

The principal did all the talking. The school gave me a contract for the next year. I saw Sandra the next day.

Thank you for the information. They want me to start in August.

You never know do you. Now that’s one problem solved. I am a good cook, why don’t you come to dinner tonight, she asked, putting her hand firmly on my shoulder.

That sounds good. My evening is free, I said.

I came by her place and had fried catfish, corn, string bean, rolls, lemonade, and apple pie for dessert.

You’re a good cook, I said, taste like something my grandmother used to make.

I hope you’re being honest. I haven’t been doing this very long. My mother never allowed the girls in my family to cook when we were growing up. She said we messed up and wasted more than we cooked.

That happens in too many homes, I said.

I ended up spending the night. I liked this girl a lot, and she was wearing on me. The more I got to know her the more I wanted to know about her. But I didn’t want to pry into her background and wanted to let her tell me what she wanted me to know.

Before we left the next morning she said, Let’s keep our relationship a secret, and not let anyone at the center know that we are seeing each other.

I had a sneaking suspicion that they already knew we were seeing each other outside of work. But it was fine with me if she felt that way.

That’s fine with me. I have no problems with being discrete.

We got together at least twice a week until the end of the term. I went by her place on several occasions. She had a nice apartment in South Park. She even came by my place. I invited her even though we didn’t have much furniture. She would quicky grab a seat on a beanbag and be right at home. We continued this way for several weeks. One day I got serious with her.

What do you want to do with the rest of your life, I asked.

I’m happy just working and coming home every day. Things are better for me than they have ever been.

Things are better for me too, I said, I would be happy just going to work every day and putting some money aside for a rainy day.

That’s about all any of us can hope for, she said.

Do you want children?

Later in my career. Not right now. I’ve worked too hard to think about children right now.

I feel the same way. There is plenty of time for children.

We were both in our early twenties, and we did have plenty of time to think about children. I wanted to tell her that she fit the profile of my ideal mate. But I didn’t want to show my hand. I was happy that I had met her and was looking forward to great times with her.

Several days later she said, You’re a nice, kind, and exceptional guy, Robert, I like you very much.

I like you too, I said.

I know we haven’t known each other long, but I have a two-bedroom apartment, you could move in with me. It will get you out of your cramped situation.

It was indeed crowded. My roommate had taken on a roommate, and I had taken on a roommate, just to pay the rent. I badly wanted to make another move.

That’s the best suggestion I have heard in a long time; when can I move? I looked at her intently.

You can move any time you like, she smiled.

I will tell my roommates I’m moving at the end of the month. I had my doubts about how I was going to make it, but things are falling right in place.

I could only hope I wasn’t making too rash of a decision.

Stick with me, and I can assure you things will work out.

I hope so, baby. You wouldn’t believe all the things I’ve been through. My life has been one bad scene after another.

You think you have had some difficult times, but you know nothing of hard times. I was a hard-time girl. You should have known me when I first arrived in the United States from Haiti. I didn’t know anyone, and at times didn’t know where my next meal was coming from. But I met a nice minister who helped me to get a scholarship and a grant for college. I finally got straightened out. I’m glad to help you until you can get on your feet. It’s a way to give something back. Sometimes you can’t help those who help you but try to give something back to someone. I graduated college and got a teaching job. Things have looked up ever since and now I have met you, things are getting even better every day.

"You know nothing of hard times without knowing my story. You can’t always tell what one has been through by the external appearance. We never had enough to eat, and there were ten hungry mouths to feed. My father was an alcoholic and