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Mama Pearl
(A Short Story)
Fall 2015
Mama Pearl is a slice of life short story about a Soul Food restaurant, and the people who work there. The restaurant experiences an astounding loss, and the people left have to pull themselves together and keep the place running. This quaint story is sure to have you laughing as you learn about the people of Mama Pearl’s SOOOOUULLL Food Restaurant.
Excerpt
Trina Thorne, the head chef at Mama Pearl’s came in at 5:48 a.m. to prep for the day’s service. She was supposed to get there at 5:30, but she never made it on time. She was an excellent chef, that’s why she was allowed to get away with her tardiness. But her lateness had gotten her fussed at on more than one occasion. Trina looked tired as she walked out from the back where the lockers were. She must have been out partying with her man, who was rumored to be the husband of one of the lady’s from the East Gate Holiness Church that sat directly across from Mama Pearl’s. The man, a deacon of the church, came into Mama Pearl’s on a regular basis. Several deacons from East Gate came into Mama Pearl’s regularly, so no one really knew which deacon it was, but they knew he was a deacon from East Gate. Trina was happy with their relationship. She only wanted someone to help pay her bills, to party with, and to give her a quick thrill in the bedroom, and her deacon, did just that.
Trina was leaning on the prep table when Sister Sassy walked in.
Sister Sassy said, “Lord, have mercy. Look what Satan done drug in,” staring at the
run down looking woman.
Trina said, “Old lady, don’t start nothing with me today. I ain’t in the mood.”
“Chile, you look like hell warmed over. You gone be able to cook?”
Trina huffed. “I’m always ready
to cook. You need to worry about your tired
potato salad, and let me do what I do.”
“If my potato salad so tired, why it sell out every day? Tell me that, Miss Cullilanerian Cook. Tell me that.”
“You ain’t got no sense woman and Cullilanerian ain't a word. Leave me alone. I got stuff I need to do.”
Trina grabbed her apron from he table and put it on.
“Uhm, you know my potato salad is good. Were you hanging out with that deacon? Ya’ll know ya’ll ain’t right.”
She looked up towards Heaven, waved her hands at Jesus. “Lord, Jesus, save they souls before You have
to strike them down, right where they stand.
Give them one more chance.”
Trina walked off from the sanctimonious woman and went to check out
the refrigerator. She wasn’t in the mood
to hear the sermon that was coming after that prayer.