The 12th Grape

The 12th grape.

This lady just asked for my 12th grape

I’m pretty sure that’s December . . .

But, she’s cute,

And I either hooked up with her or her twin sister a few years ago,

And we are under a table together,

As midnight strikes.

My date, who isn’t this lady under the table with me,

Gave us all plastic baggies with 12 green grapes in them.

She instructed us to eat them all as soon as midnight hits.

Apparently it’s some tradition from somewhere—I wasn’t really listening, I was drinking—

And it’s supposed to bring us luck next year, in 2025.

It sounded silly,

But I’m hungry,

And drunk;

Very,

Very drunk.

Hey, it’s New Years Eve, give me a break, will ya?

Anyway, this dang lady with the big butt and beautiful eyes wants a month of my luck.

So what do I do?

I give her December. And I haven’t seen her again since then. 

Fast forward a year and a half later to the ‘real’ present:

2025 was an incredible year for me. It really was. 11 of those 12 months were even full of magic and miracles. I swear that’s pretty true. But!

But!

But!

December was a real doozy. And now that silly bag of grapes doesn’t seem so silly anymore. 

The memory under the table, at that bar, at midnight, with that lady with big booty and tiny waist, haunts me now. I gave her my month. I hope it was at least a lucky one for her. For me, it was the worst month to have ever month’d. 

I’m such a sucker. But that was Lust before Love. That was a different me. Now I don’t give a fuck how pretty a lady might be, she ain’t getting my luck. 

That 12th grape is mine this time, Ms pretty eyes.

CH 5/13/26