Bedtime Stories
I remember the time when little Tommie used to come and lay upon me everyday, and fall into a deep sleep. He was a church-going sweet little boy, with nice pretty brown skin, and deep black hair. I used to enjoy Little Tom’s company even though he never knew it. He was a nice little gentle man who got off track.
Tom had a favorite stuffed teddy bear that he called Teddy. Now I couldn’t do anything about letting Teddy lay on me with Tom as he slept, but every night he slumped over and fell into the floor. Tom loved that ole bear almost as much as he loved me. Tommy went day by day getting older and growing wiser. As he got older it visited me less often; I guess he became fake after making a few friends. Tommy turned into this bad demented person. The only time when he comes and visits me is when he isn’t out there working those streets, drunk, and finds and “employee” to “work” the pole. Little Tom has gotten so far off track that low actually felt like royalty to him.
One night, Tommy came home. Once again, he was drunk and high. This wasn’t a shocker, except the high part; Tommy never ever smoked before in his life. Tommy was so intoxicated and drugged that when he dropped on me, I didn’t even want him anymore. I wasn’t his bed in my heart and we sure weren’t companions anymore. About a few minutes when Tommy was settled in, the cops came busting through the door. He was arrested for smoking marijuana. Little Tom’s mother quickly arose from her bed and checked things out. His pale, frail mother couldn’t believe that this was happening to her son.
I was left alone, empty in Little Tom’s bed for months. Finally, one day, Tommy came home. This time he wasn’t drunk, or he didn’t have any “workers” there with him. Tommy was all cleaned up. He started going back to church and getting his life together and back on track, he even got himself a good job. Tom donated to charities, and local hospitals, just because he had extra money and felt...