Interview with the Gypsy II

Gypsy Rose

This is part II of an interview between me and one of the nutty gypsy women living in my little village in Spain. If you have not read part I then you can do so here.

 

 

I met her in the local park once again since she isn’t allowed in any establishment in the region. After I proffered her ration of cigarettes and alcohol we got right back into it. As you know the Crazy Ass Gypsy Lady is referred to as GL.

 

GL- So where you been white boy, I ain’t seen you around much?

 

Me- I’ve been busy, I had um….pneumonia.

 

GL- Pneumonia? I don’t even know what the fuck that is. Wait, isn’t that what all the people on the magic pictures box and the magic singing box say when they were just all fucked up?

 

Me- What are you insinuating?

 

GL- Don’t try to trick me with your in-sinful word. Are you putting a curse on me white boy? Hey, are you sure you didn’t suffer from exhaustion?

 

Me- Back off bitch.

 

GL- I’ll bet it was the exhaustion; what, with all of your sitting in the sun, sitting at the magic typing box and siestas taking. Or no, I’ll bet it was really too many fiestas, wasn’t it?

 

Me- Look, I’ll tell you this only one time; don’t ever ask me about my business Kate.

 

GL- My names not Kate, its Crazy Ass Gypsy Lady. Jesus, lay off the fucking drugs white boy.

 

Me- Can you tell me about the life of a gypsy woman?

 

GL- The gypsy women’s life is all about blood. Where do you think the term gypsy rose stems from? Oooh, an unintended pun! Anyway, we have a very hard life. A baby girl is already sold into marriage by the time she is one year old. As long as the elders don’t deem her a ‘fugly.’

 

Me- Are you born in a hospital or at home?

 

GL- We may enjoy stabbing some relatives on occasion, but we’re not barbarians. Of course we’re born in a hospital; we have socialized medicine over here after all.

 

At this point we were interrupted by a crowd of fat white men who started chanting and screaming at us. One of them called her a secret Muslim and me the antichrist. Then they started screaming that nobody even speaks English here anymore and stormed off looking for a “Christian Church not a God-damned Catholic one.” It was pretty odd considering we’re in Spain. Anyway……     

 

Me- Does this work kind of like a dowry or something?

 

GL- What the fuck is a dowry? No, mother fucker, she is sold for some brown for the girl’s family and maybe some chickens and shit. Then as soon as the girl oozes her first blood of the unclean she is to be married. But the marriage preparation is a real mother-fucker white boy. The night before the wedding, the groom’s family takes the girl to their home then lay her spread eagled on a table, then they jam a rose right into the girls wamy-jamy hole. They have a piece of cloth under her, and when it’s all over if the cloth has a blood stain its all good. They bring the cloth out for the families to pass around and celebrate over. Everybody holds the cloth over their cup and takes a drink of hooch through the hoochie stained cloth. And you thought those purity ball fathers were sick fuckers white boy. HUH!

 

Me- Oh my God. I feel sick. Talk about groin mauling.

 

GL- Yea, why do you think we stab each other, and try to run each other over with Peugeots and shit. Our hatred runs so deep we came up with curses. But that ain’t even the worst of it, not by a long shot. If the girl doesn’t bleed then her entire family is ostracized from the gypsy community. Wait, I don’t even know what ostracized means. The girls whole family is kicked the fuck out of the community in Adra. That’s what happened to us. That’s why we is stuck up here in the wilds.

 

Me- There is an entire gypsy community in Adra?         

 

GL- Oh it’s glorious, all the booze, all the heroin, all the new people to stab and club. It’s bigger than the biggest housing project in the land of the MTV.

 

Me- You know MTV?

 

GL- Yea, and that mother fucking Kayne West is a lucky man he ain’t a gypsy. Wouldn’t last a day. Anyway, here we only got each other to stab. And it’s harder than a priapismed love stick to stay in the brown.

 

At this point another guy jumped up out of nowhere and shouted, “You Lie” so I cut the interview short. If you would like to hear more from the Crazy Ass Gypsy Lady, let me know and I’ll visit with her one more time. It’s up to you guys entirely.