Get Me Out

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There’s nothing like a visit from a relative you rarely ever see (because you don’t want to) to remind you of why you need to get your life in order so you can run away from home permanently.

I’ve blogged about one uncle before, but that one has nothing on this dude. I see him every couple of years. I like to think of him as Firemarshall Bill, given I once heard he tried to tie someone up and set them on fire.

I was asleep while he was busy making his presence felt. My brother wasn’t so lucky. Once he found out my brother worked for the county, he became excited.

Uncle: “Man, the next time they take me downtown I’m going to say, ‘My nephew works upstairs, let me out this muthafucka!'”

He then asked him were I was and my brother told him I was asleep.

Uncle: “Shit. I’m about to wake his ass up.”

Gotta love family…right? Nah, for real. Do you have to?

I had already heard him talking in the other room, but I was hoping I could fall back to sleep and wake up after he left. I should’ve known better.

The light is turned on and I hear, “N*gga, wake yo’ ass up!”

I see my uncle, though I don’t really recognize him. He reminded me of Rick James: The Sad Years. He might not have looked the same, but judging from, “N*gga, wake yo’ ass up!” I could tell this was the same Uncle who introduced his girlfriend to one of his ex in-law’s as “the bitch that broke up my brother’s marriage.”

Uncle: “What you doing still asleep. You must have been partying all last nite.”

I said maybe, but I probably learned that from you. He laughed. I guess he took my smart ass comment as a compliment. Eh, there’s always next time. Then again, he might have cut me. It’s better he didn’t catch it.

He asked what happened with New York and I explained. I said I was thinking about moving to California soon, and his eyes lit up, as if he could see a blunt being rolled up in his head.

He told me how fast LA was and how I should be careful.

Wow? Advice from Smokey The Bear’s sworn enemy. Who would have thought?

Then it came.

Uncle: “Man, it’s so much damn pussy out there. They just throw it to you.”

Oh yeah, about that…

Then it comes.

Uncle: “But man, don’t get married. Just hit-and-run.”

Why not? It’s done so much for Puffy.

He then asks me if I’m going back to sleep. I don’t think he really cared, since he didn’t give me much of a chance to answer before he told me to bring my ass outside to meet his people.

I forgot to mention in addition to getting giddy over a get-out-of-jail-free-card that doesn’t exist, he spent some time boasting of some old-man swagger. He told my brother he still gets those ‘young hoes’ about 21.

I go outside and see weave on top of weave and gold teeth. One of the girls also had the Coko nails, looking like she was ready to claw the shit out of me with one foul look.

I probably sound like a snob. I’m not. I’m used to gold teeth. I’m from Houston. I’m only bothered when you have gold teeth and your method of transportation is the bike I threw out when I was 12. Other than that, do you.

Still, someone give me a book deal, though. Please?

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