Well, tonight ended with some of that good shit this town is famous for. As I walked home from the bar, seeking a bag of snack from the shady convenience store, safely and soundly I might add (mom), I cam across several small outbursts that were noteworthy.
(Before this starts, I must disclaim that I was not ever a part of the beginnings of these chats, just a witness. Also, small groups of people congregate at very random places along the street. It's weird.)
These are the gems:
First group-
Biker 1: Yeah, man I do cocaine.
Biker 2: Yeah, but enough to do that?
Biker 1: Fuck you, man! I don't bleed THAT much!
Holy shit! How much cocaine are these guys doing? How much blood is happening when these two are cocaining? Is that what they call it? Cocaining? I've never partook.
Second group (about 40 feet from the first)-
Urban Youth: What? Nah, bitch! I'm grown as FUCK!
Urban Woman: You ain't grown enough to wipe yo' own ass
Urban Youth: I'm so grown I came out yo momma!
Second Urban Woman: You stupid!
Urban Youth: You weak!
Urban Woman: I'm so much more grown than you, I'ma get in this car and tit feed my baby.
This was the fastest call and response I have ever heard. Listen to "Tramp" by Otis Redding with Carla Thomas. That back and forth was a 2nd Grade class play compared to this.
Third Group (about 100 yards away from the Murder Mart)
White Dude: I mean, sure, I'd fuck her, but those nig bitches are RIGHT!
2nd White Dude: Yea, bro. No color, no flavor.
Me: Jesus Christ.
I sped up. I can't even with this.
Fourth FUCKING GROUP! (Outside the store)
At this point in my life, all I want is some goddamned Wheat Thins and a Gatorade (pronounced Ga-TOUR-a-day because I'm a fancy man) and this night couldn't end fast enough. There were about 15 people congregated around the door. The conversation was spewing this way and that, from hither to yon, encompassing so many words and topics my mind and ears are both trying to understand.
For the record, I had on an old UCONN Athletics hoodie. A standard sweatshirt with a hood, frontal pocket, and drawstrings to cinch the hood tightly in the case of something dumb happening. It has the old logo on it, with the smiling Samoyed, not the aggressive dick Husky jerk that they UCONN sports now.
Me (wading through the youths): Excuse me...pardon...I just...'Scuse me...COME ON!
Random Girl (to me): Hello, I like your sweater!
Random Dude: Bitch! That's a hoodie. This ain't Christmas, and that ain't. No. Fuckin' SWEATER!
As I was birthed into the shitty snack shop all I could think about was the origin of that conversation. Finally, I was at my destination, the Murder Mart. The Stab & Go. The worst shop in America. This place is so crappy I'm shocked they are still around. They've been shut down by police so many times they use chalk outlines to separate isles when they remodel. I grab my snacks. I'm stunned at this point. I've heard so much, seen so many things. I just want to pay for my sports drink and crackers. HOW FUCKING HARD CAN THIS BE?
Well.....
Three Hispanic men were speaking in Spanish ( I think, I took 7 years of French (thanks for that idea, mom)). They were drunk. They were trying to figure out how to buy 8 dollars worth of Hostess Cupcakes. These men are better at junk food than me. They are also better at fooling a cashier. One of them was trying on convenience store hats. Yea, this place sells hats.
Man1: How much is hat?
Cashier: 8 dollar!
Man2: How much we got here?
Cashier: 7 dollar!
Man1: I waaaaaaaaaant this. Take money!
Cashier: ONLY 3 DOLLAR!
Man1: Give it back.
Man3 then grabbed the hat off the head of the second dude. Only to have it snatched back and reapplied by Man2: YO! FUCK!
Then they left! They left three bucks for $16 worth of goods! HOW!?! How does this happen? What the hell? I spent $6 on snacks and sports drink. Fuck this.
I then waded through the crowd that liked my hoodie and scampered home. Because I had seen and heard too much. My poor brains.
It's been an hour. I still can't handle it.
SD
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