In My Write Mind
***Soundtrack--Do Me Right, Guy, The Future***
OK, OK...you guys have been waiting patiently to see how the saga with Cray-Z ended.
Well, first, to recap, go here...LOL
Now, what to do, what to do? Well, I'll tell ya.
Some thought I should give him the ole gas face. And I would've. Except for one thing. He was CRAY-Z!!! Do you know how many people have probably given him the gas face, in some shape or form, throughout his formative "cray-z years"? How many people he probably passed gas on while muttering to himself? How many people have probably worn gas masks when having to cross paths with him day after day?
I guess you can tell where I'm going with this--even the WORD gas probably would've driven him--OR ME--over the edge, literally. Him and the gas face probably got beef. They're most likely not boys. And plus, out of my crew, I was always the worst at imitating MC Serch when he gave the gas face in the video, so homeboy might've thought I was flirtin' with him or something...LOL
So I couldn't do that.
The statue thing...wasn't gonna work. Statues get tipped over all the time. Ask Saddam. It's funny, though. I thought back to a comedy routine I saw Reggie McFadden do on Def Comedy Jam back in the early 90s, talking about how whenever a roach gets spotted on a wall, he goes into "ninja roach" mode, staying perfectly still like nobody can see 'em.
Well, hell...like the roach, I probably would've been flattened. LOL
Now, before I go another further, let me just state that there are women that I see everyday on that train. Cute women. Fine women. Cute, fine women that live in Harlem. Cute, fine women that live in Harlem that I might see on the street and would be quick to tell their girls that the light-skinned cat that she thought was cute...ran away from a bum on the train.
Soooooo...running was not an option. At all. You ever heard the saying 'I'd rather be a SQUARE now so I can be AROUND later'? Ummm, yeah. Me, niether. I would've rather gotten pushed like a pelvis in an old Salt N Pepa video than be the butt of a "Harlem RunninAss" story.
[SideNote: I'm sitting here listening to Mario's new CD, thanks to my girl Honey (www.honeysoul.com/blogs-- check her out when you get a minute; she's got allllll the music...lol) and er uh...this crap sucks. Aside from Let Me Love You, all of the songs sound the same...and that's never a good thing. He's gonna suffer like Tevin Campbell did if he keeps this up. Well, without the gay implications and all. But seriously, now that the voice changed, it's not lookin good. Anyway, back to the story...]
So that leaves the only option available to me at the time. That's right. I pulled a Mary Tyler Moore, inching awayyyyyy from the tracks with short, compact, natural, non-threatening steps, so as not to draw the ire of The Mutterer. (Now, I hope you know what I'm referring to when I speak of Mary Tyler Moore...you remember the last episode of the series, when they did the group hug thing after everybody got fired, and while assembled in the circle, they need some tissue and the whole pack inches over toward the desk where the tissue is...?!?!? Am I the only one who remembers this episode?!?!? Seriously...? Well, for your entertainment and reading purposes, I linked the episode guide further up. And by the by, while looking for it on www.tvtome.com, I came across something that shocked me...Did anybody know that Marsha Warfield had her own show? Yeah, Roz from Night Court!!! WTF?!?!? That's it. I'm headed to Hollywoood. I could get paid top dollar to write for a crappy show. **Hello, Cheap Tickets?**Ah well...lol)
Yup. I inched outta there with the precision of Bruce Leroy's little brother when he poplocked out of the ropes that held him in The Last Dragon! Sho'NUFF!!!! I did the one-way electric slide, creeping out of the way like a TLC song.
This way, I saved face, avoided contact with the third rail, saved my gas face for little old ladies who cut me off in traffic or for making babies laugh, and got to relive a classic Nick At Nite episode--all in one fell swoop.
Oh, and Cray-Z? I left him there...muttering, sharpening...and chewing.
So Yolie...YOU WIN! Your PostIt Pads are in the mail. Along with the pencil sharpener and the tiger pops. What about the sunflower seeds, you ask? Well, let's just say, if you see someone in Harlem muttering to themselves and spitting out foreign objects, yup! That's probably Cray-Z. Because while the Mary shuffle might've done the trick alone, let's face it, the insurance of distracting him with those sunflower seeds probably saved my life.
Cray-Z as it sounds...
scribbled by Will at 11/30/2004 04:18:00 PM
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I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. (Joan Didion)
The Write One
Will. Lefty. Since Summer 1971. Over the next six months, I'll be saying some hellos, some goodbyes. Living, laughing, growing. Don't.miss.a.word.
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