A story of hope
Podcast in itunes * Videocast * Myspace * Badges
The lady is world-savvy. She know how the world works, why it work that way and who you got to know to make it work for you. But it wasn't until I met a man name Donald that the world was opened up to me like a glass lighter held in the palm pf Lindsay Lohan as her mother sit beside her smokin crack and orderin another Pepsi.
Donald worked at the Burger King two blocks from my house. After work I met him because sister and me hang out sometime to watch tv and get drunk from stolen wine from the store. she steals it and I drank it. My thievery days is through after going to jail and meeting Penny and that whole roach scenario.
Oh by the way, I had a dream last night I was Mariah Carey's new husband, and we was having a bar b que in the back yard. She wasn't it outside in her outfit so she come back in to change. I come with her and watch tv in my little man-tv room.
She come in with some stupid bandana ball gown on and I make one remark, one remark about how it look, and she whimpers and turns around to go change. This happened three more times, and each outfit looked like it was made by a blind seamstress who grabbed fabric from a pile next to her thrown out by Pic'n'Save and cobbled together 80's prom dress after 80's prom dress. She look a mess.
Ok, back to my story. I met Donald for the first time and it was like high beam stare contest: I could not take my eyes off him while we walk, and he could not stop staring at his phone, texting someone. What is it with these text people? I am sorry, but if I want to communicate with someone, I sure as dang sure am not going to type, I am going to speak. it's quicker.
So I am walking with his sister and Donald and we meet up with his friend Kenyaati. I know Kenyaati from middle school, but we do not speak. I look at Donald the whole time. His brown cocoa skin and curly black hair. Just the way he look at (his pager and Kenyaati) with that gentle Latin stare...
Then a bus pull up to the corner I am standing at with them. I just happen to be where the people step off. A man falls down the bus steps and on top of me. He stank of wine and magazines and I am struggling to throw him off me, but he is asleep. He is sleep walking on top of me. I struggle to push him off but he keeps saying "Good morning, would you like sausage with that?" and I am not able to breathe good.
My friend come over and ask the man to get off me. She finally push him off. My hat got smudged and the hole bus was watching me. I was embarrassed. The bus driver asked me if iw as ok. "Yes no thanks to you, now get back on the road and make your $8 an hour." He got mad, put the bus in park and step off the bus. I start to run but there's wno where to go. The hardware store behind me is closed up, the park is pitch black and the alley way is scarry. He come up at me and yell at me about how he is lucky to have this job because he is retarded and his wife is pregnant and he is doing the best he can, and a sister do not need to be callin a brother out like that. I said my apolgies but told him just cuz he retarded do not mean he has to drive a bus. He could make clothes for Mariah Carey. He did not like this and snatched my purse.
The bus driver snatched my purse.
For some reason, when I am purse-snatched, I get the speed of a bike and the strength of a weight bench. I chase him back to the bus but he close the door on my hand and pul away. I am now walking with my hand stuck in the door. Then I am running because he gains full bus speed, then I am dragging because he is now on a highway, with me still attached and my purse in his retarded lap.
Long story short, a cop pulled him over and arrested him. I told the cop I was a bus driver and would drive the people to safety, when in reality I drove them around the corner, made them each give me ten dollars to get back home, then drove the bus into a river (I will not name which one) and walked home counting my dollars.
And that night, the world was opened up to me like I said above. It don't matter who you are, where you come from or how poor/retarded/whatever you are, the world has opportunities for you. All you got to do is be ready to grab them. Believe in yo dreams. Take hold of yo dreams and never talk to Kenyaati. He tell lies and his breath smell like a butt.




0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home