Be tropical, my friends, and call on Saint Belafonte
Allow me to give you a hand with your breakfast to go
Now I know you find me appealing
Ah, but I can be slippery when I’m underfoot
Now come, Mr. Tallyman
And tally me, ‘cause daylight come and I want to go home
I remember the child sitting on my lap. “What would it take for you to do this one thing for me?” he had asked. They warn you about this when you join the corps, but it still amazes you when you hear it.
That’s why I stopped in my tracks and thought hard once I was in the man’s bedroom. What the kid was asking me to do came naturally. Still, I hated the son of a bitch for what he had done to the boy, so I wanted to gift the man something more. All it would take is a slight twitch and justice would be served. I had killed many a person, young and old, male and female, but never while they slept, not in cold blood. That was not who I was, at least not now.
I sheathed my blade and left his son’s note. I thought about leaving a bit of coal behind to emphasize that I saw his naughty ass and if I had wanted he would have been mine, but I am a man of the red cloth. “What would it take? I may only play a saint, but a devil I am not.”