Jules, the Truth Finder
Description
Read MoreVocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (South West - Texas)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I've been through a lot in my life and I'd survived at all. The last time I drove this road had been when paris died, there wasn't anybody else but me to go back and settle her affairs. She had died hard alone and been living in an old rooming house. It was on broadway in the saddest part of town, across from the old deserted Sears building in september Beaumont. Weather is like being locked in a hot room full of wet dirty towels, paris room stunk to high heaven. The smell was enough to knock you over and I had to keep going outside to catch my breath. The out of doors was as close and muggy as inside that old flophouse. The lady who ran it was sitting on her back porch drinking orange flavored gin straight out of the bottle. She had deep snuff stains that line the creases next to her bottom lip. She was watching like a hawk to make certain I didn't steal something, but there wasn't anything worth the trouble. She'd yell at me every time I came outside. Hey, you paris girl. I'd nod and say yes ma'am, I am. That she must asked me 20 times I lost count how anybody could live like this is beyond me. Paris had kept some dresses from back in the day, every one of them needing some good cleaning. I wondered to myself if there was even a soap that could get rid of the nasty stench. She'd gone all eighties from the looks of things, scarves, rubber bracelets and the kind of trinkets you used to see Madonna wear looked like she'd been shopping at the Gateway learners where they sold low priced outfits for cheap high school girls. I didn't even hate her anymore. Just felt sad for her. I felt the sorrow you get when you witness someone who's lost in life. When I got everything boxed up and bagged for the Salvation Army, I began to drag the items out to the street. It just mounted to a wasted life. The men, the drugs and the booze, drinking a few boxes of clothes and some cheap old Madonna knockoffs. Well, they'd be for somebody else now, provided anybody would even want it. There hadn't been one thing I wanted to keep of her belongings, but for some reason I stuck this plastic rosary in my handbag. Some old guy come over here last week and knocking on the door looking for paris. She started laughing. I had to tell him to go on. I didn't answer, but she kept on look like one of them old sailors. She started laughing again. Paris like them old sailors. Not one of them speak a word of english sounded Russian or out of Norway like one of them rats. That really made her laugh. The truck said they were picking up tomorrow morning. That okay? I asked her, but I didn't really expect an answer. She had on an old sleeveless house dress like they used to wear 30 years ago. It probably came out of the Sears before they closed down for good. It had little flowers, orange and blue. Her arms were brown and flabby and you could see the yellow, brown bra strap drop down from where the red piping had torn loose. Girl. You want to pick me up some more orange gin, That would be fine. I'll make sure your stuff don't walk off. I figured what the heck. There was a liquor store on calder. The only kind of business left down here in this end of town beside the church is I remember when there was all convenience all around, even downtown, I used to walk down there and eat breakfast at the old Crosby Hotel. They had the best pancakes and syrup. An old black man waited tables there for 100 years. He wore a hat and a starched white jacket with a black bow tie. I always dreamed of better, but that was about the best it ever got. I'd known there was another life out there. I just hadn't known how to get it