I got a story to tell..
“Duppy know who fi frighten…”
– Jamaican Proverb-
Basically, in patois (“Jamaican talk” for you Yanks) the above proverb means that ghosts will always know who to frighten. They will always know who they can bother, who is their easiest prey. As I’ve grown up with this proverb, it has also meant that people will always know who will let them get away with what. Say I’m telling you a story, in this story, someone has TRIED ME! OH! For example, we can use the story about the woman that mushed my face/head at the marketing firm. Say I was telling you that story; would you find yourself sitting back and thinking “damn, I wish a n*gga WOULD!?” I know you would, because honestly, that’s what I do. I WISH that people would test me in that way. Yes, I’m like that guy that gets out of jail and walks around saying, “test me, I WANT to go back!” I am THAT person.
So imagine my delight when I got tested yesterday. Mind you, I go so long without any “battles” that they catch me by surprise. When it pops up, I actually halt, check myself and wonder “is this really happening, or am I just supremely froggy?” I check the calendar to see if my period is coming because I tend to get very “pounce-ish.” Yes, there’s a lot of checks and balances that I go through to finally get to the place where I start to roll up my sleeves and get out my Vaseline.
Yesterday I rolled up my sleeves…
I dog-sat a couple of dogs this weekend. I’ve dropped hints, but the woman that I wrote the Insensitive Friend post about is the one whose dogs it was. I keep her at a distance, but since she gives me gigs it helps to not totally burn that bridge. But “friend?” Nah, she’s not that.
Anyway, she went on a cruise. When she initially asked me, I told her that my car wasn’t working and she offered me hers. She said that I could drop her off and take her car.
Usually, I would be ecstatic about the concept of having a house to stay at for the weekend. Where I could sit on the balcony and chill out. However, after last week, I really wasn’t looking forward to staying away from home. I wanted to hang on my own couch and I didn’t want to have to pack a bag.
Funny thing happened though. Everytime I went somewhere, the library or the supermarket, if I had to turn off the car, the gas needle would be a little lower when I started the car again. I knew something was wrong when I was already down 1/4 of a tank when I had driven less than 30 miles. It doesn’t take a mechanic to figure it out. She could’ve needed a tune-up, but whatever the reason, I watched how I drove her car for the rest of the weekend. At one point, I even took my mother’s car because I didn’t want the gas needle to dip further.
Monday, I go and pick her up. When she gets in the car, I tell her about her car. It could be something as simple as putting air in her tires (which wobbled when stopping). She then looked at me and said “why didn’t you put any gas in it?” Umm.. e_O I asked her to repeat herself because I really do have a bad ear. I told her, “I didn’t have the money to.” All the while I’m thinking, “Bish, you only paid me half in the first place.” Coupled with the fact that this is the first paying gig that I’ve had in about two months. Since everytime someone has offered me their car, gas was never an issue, I was in uncharted territory. She said that she’d give me the rest of my pay because she was a little light until payday. (It was Monday!)
I went home and I sat down to watch Grey’s. My texts go off and it was this girl asking why I drove the car so much if I knew I couldn’t fill the gas tank back. I didn’t reply til about 5 hours later because I didn’t want to. I took all the emotion out of it and responded with facts (you can’t argue facts). I told her that not only did she assume some things, but I’ve never had to fill back anyone’s gas tank. She said, “goes to show you can’t assume anything” and that was that.
But the texts didn’t end there.
There will be a special Thursday post to wrap-up this story… I wish I could finish it today, but that’ll make this post too long… so let’s just say, I’m giving you all the backstory.
Peace and love, Nick
p.s. it took ERRTHANG outta me to not make the title, “bring some weed I got a story to tell..” *sigh*