21
June
Tuesday
12:10
I
looked at the time on my phone again as my piss ‘o meter gradually edged towards highly pissed. I mean, i wasn’t supposed to stay
more than five minutes at the bus terminals but the dude I was
waitin’ on, had had my ass there for a lil over ten minutes ...and
countin’.
Jus’
as I was thinkin’ of ringin’ his ass up again, he called, beggin’
me to be patient and that he’d come through in the next twenty
minutes. I know some time I get ticked off quite easily, so I took a
deep cleasin’ breath (oh hell, how cleansin’ can the air at a bus
station wit close a thousand souls millin’ around be). I try to
pass the time by listenin’ to the lil’ recordings of songs I’d
be composin’ (my songs…all unfinished). It’s one of my lil’
distractions, kinda connects me wit’ myself...anyways, if there’s
any A&R man readin’ this, am the man you need to discover. Lol!
12:18
Face
glued to my writin’ pad, head bobbin’ to the sound of my
recordings. Call it narcissistic or whatever you want but there’s
somethin’ vain-gloriously calmin’ about listenin’ to the sound
of your own voice playin’ back to you…that is freakin’
cathartic! Come to think of it, a playback of your ass doin’
somethin’ you wouldn’t want to see the light of day might jus get
your blood pressures up especially if your name is Prince Harry and
you’re third in line to the British throne.
I
was lost in the groove until some peddler came and stood across my
table; I didn’t even bother lookin’ at him or what he was tryin’
to sell. I already know how these hustlers operate. They invite
themselves into your presence and try to tempt you like the serpent
did Eve in the garden a while back. They stand in front of you long
enough to get you to give more than a passing look at what they got.
Well, I got my own tactic too, I jus ignore ‘em til they get the
message and move the hell on and that was exactly what I did.
About
fifty seconds later, the hustler was still standin’ there like some
sort of stature; the punk ass jus won’t go away like the proverbial
coin. I looked up to see what the homeboy was sellin’ and right
there in both his hands were a polythene bag full of lipsticks! For
the time it took for my face to travel from the bags in hands to his
face, my look switched from your pleasant average Joe smile to that
no nonsense Danny Trejo look and the motherfucker promptly got the
message. He got out of my sight like a house on fire. I mean, what
the fuck, do I look like a lipstick wearin’ nigga? Nigga musta been
slightly inebriated to wanna sell me shit like that.
12:23
As
I watched the lipstick man go, I noticed somethin’ that got me
thinkin’ about what upsets a man’s sanity scale. I’ve never
been certifiably mad but I know there’s always an event that shifts
a man’s balance and tips his ass into insanity, right? Y’all ever
notice how mad people are always are on about a particular thing? So
there I was lookin’ at an old mad man in a torn hat and an
ill-fittin’ ragged suit who kept goin’ from folks to folks (I
counted eight) askin’ them for what the time was.
That
shit got me wonderin’ that may be the man’s obsession wit time’s
got some’ to do wit why he went mad! For a few nano seconds I
thought what if the lipstick man was to go mad, would he be goin’
around obsessin’ after lipsticks? Yeah, me and my evil hyperactive
mind, right?
12:26
As
the old mad hatter moved away from the couple sittin’ on the bench
with two other chicks (they had their backs to me), I saw somethin’
that got me sittin’ straight in my chair. The couple were fightin’
or to put it more succinctly, the man was head-buttin’ and slappin’
the woman. It felt unreal and that disturbin’ image wouldn’t let
me sit. I stood up and move close to get a good at the situation. As
I got closer, my blood started boilin’, veils were poppin’ up on
my arms (that happens when am mad, stressed or excited), I was ready
to dumb-slap the motherfucker from the back but he was saved by a
call that came through on his phone. He stood and moved away about
twenty steps to answer the call. Nigga wasn’t aware of how close he
came to a king size bitch slap.
I
stood there waitin’ and watchin’ as he talked and laughed on the
phone as if it was jus another day in paradise. Meanwhile, the chick
was sittin’ there cryin’. I could tell she was cryin’ from the
way her head drooped and how she dabbed the eyes with her wrapper (a
wrap-around cloth).
The
motherfucker in the red shirt came back like nothin’ was wrong and
started whisperin’ in the woman’s ear, I stood there a lil
confused like how could this nigga go from the devil in the red dress
to a sweet-nothin’-whisperin’ angel in a few minutes? I shrugged
and told myself “good thing I wasn’t too hasty at dishin’ out
that king-size slap at all”
I
went back to my seat but hardly have I sat down than the fool started
head-buttin’ the woman again. I grabbed my bag and made for the guy
but before I got there, nigga grabbed the lady and began makin’
their way into the right wing of the terminal. As I turned to follow
them, three other guys came up to me and said they too have been
watchin’ what was goin’ on. As if we’ve rehearsed the move, we
marched after the couple, unbeknownst to them…unbeknownst, did
y’all catch that? Damn! Who’d have thought a nigga like me would
use such an archaic word. Lol!
A
step behind the wife batterin’ fool, I finally got the chance to
unload a nasty slap on the motherfucker. No word or explanation was
needed. As he turned to find out what he hit him, I welcomed his face
wit another wrath of god-like smack, bam! Nigga staggered backward,
tryna get his balance. The other three guys generously donated a
couple more slaps to the wife batterer’s face. The fool tried to
explain that chick was his wife but we weren’t tryin’ to hear
none of it. Pussy ass nigga started cryin’ to the wife, “Have you
seen what you have done now.” I mean, can you believe it, he was
blamin’ the wife!
For
even hintin’ that the wife was responsible the beat down he was
gettin’, I smacked him on the face some more and told the wife,
“You better get yourself some help before this man kills you.”
Outro
I
know some ladies can really over do shit sometime but whatever
happens, no lady should have to endure shit like what that lady took.
I mean, it wasn’t enough that the poor chick had to take beatings
at the crib, the stupid husband didn’t give a fuck if they were in
public, he whooped the wife’s ass wherever!
The irony of the whole thing was, the wife begged for us
to spare the schmuck. Some folks came and begged for the fool too.
They pro’ly thought we were goin’ to send him to his maker if
they let the jungle justice carry on. Anyways, we reluctantly left
them (the couples) but guess what I found out later? The man took the
wife to a secluded spot and took off where I he left off.
Unfortunately for him, one of the guys that was wit us saw what
happened and took the fool to the police and they promptly locked his
ass up. Another sad irony to the whole episode was that the wife was
pro’ly the one who had to post bail for the fool.
12:40
I
forgot to mention that I ran into the guy I was waitin’ for at the
wife beater’s beat-down.
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