The Sweetest Day to Die
The origins of Sweetest Day date back to the early 1900’s in Suckastrokscha, a burgeoning town situated along the US-Canadian border. According to legend, a hard-working immigrant by the name of Sava Ho was head over heels for a young dame cherished as one of the most beautiful women in town. A natural charmer, Sava, a captain in the Coast Guard at the time, had no trouble garnering the woman’s attention. Capturing her undivided affection, however … well, that was another story.
Call him the poster boy for chivalry. He didn’t care. When it came to courting his beloved, Sava spared no expense.
Top of the line home furnishings. Check.
Fully stocked pantry. Check.
Nifty sweaters and fancy corduroy pants for all six of her kids. Uber check.
Try as he may, Sava’s efforts simply were not enough. The rumors constantly swirled. Whispers throughout the neighborhood, carrying chatter of a pampered damsel who was both unsatisfied and unfaithful to the man who loved her unquestionably.
Until one day, a fed up Sava groveled to his lady, “What’s it gonna take, huh? What else can I do to prove my love to you? For you to show me the same affection in return? Give you my heart on a platter?!”
“Yep,” she hissed. Her response came with an icy cold gaze. Hips shifted, arms crossed, lips curled in the culmination of an imposing stance that would be passed down through generations of African American women.
Sava cracked a grin, but she didn’t, and that’s when he knew she was dead serious. So like a saddened puppy with his tail coddled between his legs, he softly scurried away. Thoroughly defeated. When he reemerged 20 minutes later, Sava took a few moments to savor the sweet taste of horror plastered on her foundation-covered face. She was shocked to see her man standing there with a dinner saucer in both blood-soaked hands. He bore a gaping hole in his chest beneath a genuine smile. But his delight was short-lived as he endured violent trembles from head to toe before collapsing to the floor.
The woman looked down to find none other than Sava’s heart at her feet, literally broken in two and covered in bodily splooge. The organ continued to pulse faintly and briefly as the man from whom it was so mortally extracted lay dead just mere inches away.
“OMG,” she managed through quivering lips, overcome with emotion. “That is so sweet!”
All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door. The woman wiped a fledgling tear from her eye and leaped up from the sofa, rashly stomping the lifeless organ at her feet with a carpet-staining SPLAT.
“Shit!” Yeah, she made a mess of this situation, but she couldn’t live in the past. Tyrone was at the door, and with Captain Sava Ho out of the picture, it was high time to start scouting new and improved donors to sponsor her lifestyle well into the future.
The Aftermath
I used to think Sweetest Day was as bogus as that damn story I just made up. Literally some shit females in Detroit created to get over on suckas ... because Valentine’s Day just wasn’t enough. Seriously. For the longest time, it seemed that only Detroiters were aware of its existence. I’d bring it up in conversation with people from other states and they’d just look at me like I’m crazy. I couldn’t help feeling like ole Sava Ho by falling for this annual rouse. It wasn’t until my mid-20’s that I finally ran into some people outside of Detroit who’d actually heard of it. Then again, this was in Missouri, so maybe it’s a Midwest thing. I don’t know.
So here we are. Another Hallmark holiday designed to cash in on the suffering of poor saps who will surely break the bank on gifts and extravagant dates, all in hopes of getting some form of affection and appreciation in return. Ironically, it falls right before Thanksgiving rolls around and commences to bleed their wallets with that long, slow, holiday dickin’. SMH.
Happy Sweetest Day foo!
Contel Bradford is a mystical and complex individual. You can attempt to unravel some of the mystery by visiting his author site at countkrewpublications.com.
