Monday, April 4, 2011

Tasers, Knives and Eyebrow Gel

You know it's hard out here for a pimp. We must always be prepared for whatever life throws our way and that is why I always carry around my taser, a sensible knife and my tube of eyebrow gel. What? Lol. When you are a fabulous person livin' and thrivin' in Harlem you must be prepared. The mean cold streets may have warmed up a tiny bit, but they can be cruel nonetheless. It was a windy, familiar Wednesday morning when it happened. Spring had slowly began to dip her head from behind Winters ass and a bird chirped in the distance. I knew that it was gonna be a great day and I knew I would have the chance to debut my new look.(see tres excitment all about my face) To rewind a bit, a few months prior, I picked up a sensible, non-abrasive pink pair of shorts, a polka dot boatshoe and a new deep V from Lane Bryant in anticipation of Springs return and thanks to a spring like temp of 72, I could wear this look. So there I am slightly sashaying down 125, Barbara Streisand in my ear, cocoa butter and Hermes on my skin, not a care in the world when suddenly an unwelcomed, nervous chill came o'er my body. Well naturally I yelped and jumped.(sidenote: this may or not have been seen as a spectacle. i mean i'm only a slight 6'3", 300lbs in hot pink shorts, but it looks normal right, no cause for alarm, right?...I digest!) I pull my earbuds out, palm the taser in my m'urse and continue walking. I hear a rustling, I speed up. My heart beats just a wee bit faster. The rustle occurs again and before you know i'm hop walking down the street, one could liken it to a skip, and if that's the case it was a masculine skip. The "skip with masculine tendacies" turns into a full sprint and the following is still happening: rustling and roaring, crackin and fear. I'm out of breath and and while i'm gathering my strength to face whatever it is, I pause a moment to reapply chapstick and a swipe of eyebrow gel- 'Cause if'n i'm dying its gonna be glamorous. I look up to see the offender staring in my face. It was a damn rat! The fucker was following me cause he smelled the bourbon or the half of breakfast i had in my bag. But just like everything else in NYC the rat was gangster. I clapped my hands it didn't move, i did a highschool stomp routine -it didn't move. So I tasered the bitch, he moved then...straight on to glory.