Some Get Back

I have always had this innate desire to go back and confront adults from my childhood. It's nothing incredibly serious. (No I wasn't molested or abused. I had a very nice childhood all things considered.) I got issues with some folks. The people I'm talking about never hurt me you see. They shattered my world none the less. They showed me how ugly it is on the other side of my front door. I remember them distinctly because the moments of our faithful interactions are etched into my brain. I'm secretly incredibly bitter about my mental scars. I don't want to fight them. I just want to talk s#$& to them.

I would go to the Hull Street Market (the sto' like my grandma says it). I was about 8 or 9 and there was this bum that lived on the street around there. I hated going to the store because he always popped up. I hated how he talked to me like I was an adult. He used to always harass me about my mama's change. "Hey let me see what's in your bag, little man? Your mama don't need all that change, let me get me something to drink. It's hot as hell out here. You just gonna act like a ol bitch and not say nothing. I ought to smack you and take your change. See what your punk ass daddy does about that." Imagine how traumatizing it is for an old evil looking man to threaten a little kid. I remember that day vividly because soon as I turned the corner I took off running back home. I fell and messed up my favorite He-Man t-shirt (I'm an 80's baby). I want to go back to that moment and mush that dude in the face. "What the hell you doing out here talking to little kids like that?! Get the hell on somewhere with your old ass! Looking like Roger Troutman on crack! Go comb your knappy ass beard and go back to Cameo with you old ass! Word Up Nigga!" Then I would mush the korean lady at the register. "Why you let that dude harass your customers? Call the police or something. Now give me a sugar daddy and some red hots."

Then it's on to Ms Weaver. Sixth grade P.E. teacher extraordinaire. Damien and Trevor had me in a damn head lock. They had ripped my shirt and dragged me across the gym. She sends all 3 of us to In School Suspension for playing while she was talking. I made direct clear eye contact with her with my one good eye that wasn't compressed against his forearm. My face was bright red. I was choking and gasping for breath under his musty arms. "Woman are you blind or something? You so fascinated with kickball, that you can't see past your puffy mustache and help somebody. Fix your wig, bitch, and get a clue. This dude is 6'2" 215 how the hell was I playing with his big gorilla ass. Pick those sagging ass titties up when I'm talking to you."

I really got fire for one person in particular. It was 1996. I was 16 riding my bike down the road from Reggie's house going home. It was just starting to get dark outside. I'm riding along enjoying myself when I see lights approaching from behind. I move to get into the next lane out of the way, at the same time this dude accelerates in the next lane to pass me. BOOM! I black out at the initial impact and wake up seconds later in total pain with a mouth full of dirt and blood. I remember trying to move and not being able to. I start crying. I make myself notice of every second, thinking I'm going to die on the side of the road. I listen to my every breath praying for the next sweet inhale of life. This dude gets out the car and starts cussing at me! He's mad about his car!! I black out again thinking, "what kind of s#&$ is this? I live a good life for 16 years and the last thing I'm going to hear is a guy cussing at me about his car".

I have to come in with the Kill Bill red light and the crazy synthesizer music. EEEEHHHH! OOOOOOO! EEEEEHHH! OOOOO! " Muthaf#$&a!! You hit me!! I'm sitting here dying on the ground and you talking about your punk ass Maxima! F#&$ your car Nigga! You gonna cuss at me about some bulls#*%! Get some help! Stop bitchin and ask me am I ok or something! You country ass bastard, driving like you ain't got no damn sense! Where the F#&$ you going that you got to run down people to get there? It's f#&$in Roanoke Rapids, It ain't nowhere to go nigga!! You Big Bird looking mutha f#*%a!"

I'm not holding a grudge on anyone. After dude scared me I got the "don't let people get to you" speech. It built up my defenses to the world at large. In ISS I actually sat down and talked to Damien and Trevor on some real talk and we kinda became friends (kinda, but not really. They never did that extreme stuff again). I survived that accident. Haven't rode a bike since but I lived to leave small town life forever. You might say they made me stronger by doing me wrong but they were wrong regardless. I may forgave them for their transgresses, but they still need to be cussed out.

(P.S. I'm still with abolish the N word, it slipped in there today)