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Carol D. Mitchell

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The Mad Sister
by Carol D. Mitchell   

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Books by Carol D. Mitchell
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Publisher:  Publish America ISBN-10:  B007PLY864


Copyright:  March 28, 2012 ISBN-13:  9781462675630

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In THE MAD SISTER, Mercy J. Diamond goes mad when she arrives home from the store to find her house on fire and her only sibling, 5-year old Roxy Diamond dead. Seizing madness by the horns, fifteen-year old Mercy sets out to become a skilled medical doctor and Yale has indeed produced in Mercy, the best medical doctor on the planet.

Mercy has but one goal in mind: to bring baby “sis” Roxy Diamond back as a clone! And guess what? Dr. Mercy J. Diamond succeeds in delivering on the impracticable - when (with the help of cohort - Dr. Stanley Mead) Mercy flat out brings dead sister Roxy back to life. Over forty-years after her beloved sister’s mortal death, the new and improved Roxy Diamond is back as a stunning, powerful clone. By 2011 Roxy is primed to avenge sister, Dr. Mercy J. Diamond’s unmerciful takedown by the Parish Police. And guess what? Beautiful Roxy Ann Diamond is fiercer than THE MAD SISTER who created her!
Mercy Jean Diamond was born on July 12, 1928, and her beloved sister Roxy Ann Diamond, was born on the same day and month, 1938. Because Mercy’s parents had waited ten-years to have a second child, the relationship between these sisters was extraordinary.

The close girls were reared in a working middle-class town on the corner of Continental and 105th Avenue, in Parish, California. Parish, bordering Oakland, and San Leandro, California, was the notorious sister to San Francisco. The Dia-monds lived on the lot Mercy was living on during the infamous raid of June 1987, when “The SWAT Team” rolled in to this town with warrants on Mercy.

They trundled in like bulldozers, tearing down the illustrious estate: The Pink Palace. Mercy’s mother Maggie, a homemaker and her father Fred, a heart surgeon, should have loved the two girls; but Mercy’s mother Maggie, was a lazy, selfish low-life that left the raising of little Roxy on Mercy.

Had Mercy’s mother Maggie Diamond been doing what she was supposed to be doing as a parent, the fire would have never taken place, but that’s another story. Anyway, Maggie was a crazy mother. She was pretty, but she was cock-eyed, and she was the kind of woman who would sell her soul to the devil to keep a man.

She put Fred Diamond over her children shamelessly and played that game “cock block” like Jimi Hendrix played a guitar. All she cared about was pleasing Fred Diamond, thinking that if she didn’t keep on top of him, that one of them nurses at Parish County Hospital would run off with Fred’s behind.

Fred, he was a good-looking Duke Ellington type of brother, with the straight red hair, trimmed moustache, only Fred, was darker. He was a short man, about 5’6” who wore gold wire rim glasses like President Truman.

His moon-sized eyes were green, intelligent looking. He was a thin man who looked good in his clothes. The girls liked him cause’ he was smart, good-looking and sophisti-cated; and, the town loved Fred, cause’ he acted like he had a little class when he put on that white coat with a silver stethoscope - going to work to be a doctor. Maggie, his wife, was high-yellow and a cent short of being a midget. She was good-looking too.

Whenever Fred left the house, Maggie sat in that brown wicker rocker at the window where she rocked, until that man came home. Maggie had long, chili powder colored crinkly hair that formed a crown around her small face like seaweed.

Her skin was a strange - Carnation cream-colored that made her look mixed, but she wasn’t. Guys said she had a nice round behind and a mean switch what brothers called, “a walk that wouldn’t quit.” She pleased a Brotha’ at the expense of her two daughters, not giving a hot pepper what people said about it.

Of course, Maggie Diamond, the reformed street whore was better than the rest of us in Parish, California. Maggie hated her daughter Mercy with a passion. There’s just no other way to say that. And she loved little Roxy, so we all thought.

One time Maggie hit Mercy so hard in the face, sounded like she was breaking branches off that broad, majestic, elm tree that hovered exquisitely over that pink house they could barely afford. She spanked Roxy, but she beat Mercy with thick tree limbs into some horrifying seizures. That was when people minded their own business, letting others raise their kids without putting two-cents in.

When Maggie beat Mercy, that girl got to shaking and spitting up white stuff and all we could do was say, “Oh Lord,” looking out our windows at one another, praying for that poor child, Mercy.

Mercy’s pale light-green eyes twitched, while her arms drew up to her chest like she was dying. And when it was all over, Maggie called that beating: “Mercy’s Epilepsy Fit.” Before Maggie got so uppity, everybody knew Maggie was working like a slave to put Fred through medical school.

She took in laundry, sewing, cooking, baking, anything allowing her to stay home and rock in that wicker chair, waiting for Fred. Looked like she was building that Brotha’ up just to show those in Parish she had something nobody else had. Maggie had a lot to prove since she was a runaway foster child from Alabama, who happened to meet Fred Diamond when she was fifteen, at the Greyhound Bus Station, on her way to meet a Parish pimp, Bobby John.

Bobby told everybody Maggie was coming back to Parish to be his special one. Bobby waited for Maggie a good spell, knowing everybody said that Maggie was very special, cause’ she’d been to Parish the year before whoring until Parish Police arrested her for standing on Continental and sent her back home, because that’s the way Bobby liked em’ back in the day.

It was hard to control a whore with a good mind. He’d take the pretty slow ones like Maggie, put em up and then put em out on the corner for a spell until the cops put em’ in jail, sent em’ home or until somebody killed em, but as good luck would have it, Maggie was in the right place at the right time.

It was Fred Diamond, who saw pretty Maggie before Bobby ever showed up for her that day. And, ever since Maggie met Fred Diamond getting off what we called the “ho’ bus” in ’25, it was full-steam ahead for Maggie and Fred. Mercy was only five that day her momma slapped her in the face and everybody opened the window to see what had broken, when Maggie beat Mercy into that seizure. It was obvious from the start that Maggie Diamond was too tired in the mind to care for either one of her kids properly. Even with the disgrace that Maggie was, the Diamonds lived a lot better than most of us in Parish.

When little Mercy got older, and her father was finally working as a real doctor, Mercy didn’t mind one bit that the raising of Roxy had fallen onto her young shoulders, because Maggie, who was “Mrs. Diamond,” now surely didn’t mind either. Mrs.

Diamond spent so much time tending to that philandering Brotha’ of hers or rocking, that if you looked out the front window on any given day Mercy was caring for her some Roxy.

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