In My Write Mind
Previously...On The Surreal Life: Bloggers Edition...
...All seven bloggers are drunk off their asses. They were safe because their driver was behind the wheel. But wouldn't you know it. Brown Shuga couldn't leave well enough alone. She decided to stand up in the sunroof and take her top off, while the limo was driving along. Not only that, but she challenged the other women to do it too. The men were very supportive of some tit-tay showage. Edwige was the next to bare here breast. Again, not a big deal because in this Surreal Life House, Edwige was 'the naked one.' Then it was Christen's turn. After hearing one too many cheers from Bruthacode, she said, "I'll do it if you do it."
Bruthacode didn't care. Everyone had seen his taco meat. He stripped off his purple and gold sweatervest and stuck his upper body out of the sunroof. All of a sudden, there was a shrill scream coming from Bruthacode. Then a big THUD as blood flowed down his lower body into the cabin of the limo. His limp body feel from its place in the sunroof to the floor of the limo. Everyone panicked, yelled, and demanded the car be stopped. Bruthacode was dead. Or was he?...
And now...Episode 5...
"ONE DIZZLE DOWN"
The limo driver called 9-1-1 immediately after hearing the gun shot. It was a single shot that pierced the ears of the housemates and left them all in shock. With the car safely pulled over, Panama and Will gently lifted BC out of the car (big no-no) and placed him on the sidewalk. Just as the two were about to get back into the car and speed off, the police arrived.
It's not that they didn't care that BC might be dead...don't get it twisted. It's just that all of THEM were twisted...drunk as hell. Panama crunched the numbers. He knew that drunk plus gunshots added up to big ass trouble. They would all be suspects.
The girls quickly got dressed and attempted to look sober. It's wasn't happening. Kajuana, known for not being able to hold her liquor, kept giggling uncontrollably while the police investigated the scene. It didn't take long for the cops to come to their conclusion. Six black people...one lead-filled body...BC was stabilized enough to be transported to the hospital while his housemates, suddenly all suspects, were all going to the precinct for questioning.
Scene 2: Police HQ
The cops decided that they would question each blogger one-by-one, trying the old divide-and-conquer routine that they learned their first day at the academy. While they gave the drunken group a chance to dry out, they found the group had no rap sheets (except for Panama, who had rap reviews...but we digress). So they did the next best thing. They studied their blogs to come up with incriminating evidence. Then, they handed them over to their top detective. Below are transcripts from their interrogation sessions.
*Cue Law & Order bell*
Room 1: EDWIGE
Detective: So your name is Edwige...pronounced like Sandwich...?
Ed: Ummm, no. It's Edweeeeedge. Long E.
Detective: Yeah. Whatever. You have a blog, don't you Weegie? This...actually...happened...huh?
Ed: Yes. I do. And?
Detective: Well, from reading your blog we see that this whole Surreal setup was your idea. You initiated this whole housemate thing, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?!?!?!
Ed: I did. I thought it would be a great way for black people to...
Detective: Black people to do WHAT, Weegie? Get together and shoot one another?!?!?
Ed: No, wait...
Detective: Don't interrupt me, Egg Roll, or whatever you call yourself. We have your writings. We see that you talk during movies...how you wish you were an international spy and secretly wish you lived back in New York...that you can't stand corny ass men! Is that why you shot Brutha Code?!?!? Huh? Did you think he was too corny for your taste so you had to "off" him?!?!? Answer me!
Ed: I did not shoot Brutha Code. And if you would get your facts straight, there's no way I could've done it. Scroll up if you don't believe me. At the time of the shooting, I was two titties to the wind in the sunroof. I.am.innocent.
Detective: Oh, really? You think you've won, don't you? Think you're a grown-up because you got a fly ass couch. We'll see, Squeegie...This isn't over. I'll be back.
Room 2: BROWN SUGAR
Detective: Talk to me, Brown Sugar. Can I call you Sugar?
Brown: Call me what you want. I know the game. I'm not saying anything without my delegate in the room.
Detective: Ohhhh, a delegate. That's right. You know cop-speak. In fact, you ARE a cop, aren't you? What, do you hang out with bloggers as your side gig? Listen. I read your blog, Sugarrrr. Guess they call you that because you're so sweet, huh? So sweet that you'd blog about fellow officer's STANK BREAF?!?!?! So sweet that you'd blog about "hand on booty details?" So sweet, Ms. Sugarrrrr...that you'd say F*CK THE POLICE?!?!?!? The truth is, you're not sweet at all, are you, Sugarrrrrrr? No, I don't think so. In fact, you're just a sexy little mama, aren't you? Getting hit on by dudes all the time. Does SWEETDADDY ring a bell?!?!? And what about the ladies? They like you, too...don't they, Sugarrrrr? What, did BruthaCode hit on you? Or was it that you couldn't handle the fact that he DIDN'T? Is that why you shot him?!?!? Huh?
Brown: *eyes watering*
Detective: Ohhhhh...Ms. Sugarrrrrrr crying? I hit a nerve, didn't I?
Brown: Nah, man. You hit a nostril. Your breaf is hummmmmmin...dayum!
Detective: *covering mouth* Oh, so you wanna play hard ball, huh? I'm goin' to get a mint...you stay put. I'll be right back.
Room 3: PANAMA
Detective: Jackson...G...Tickle. What does the G stand for, boy? Guilty??!?!?
Panama: Nah, cracka. It stands for Gully and if you say the word boy one more time, you're gonna really see what it means.
Detective: Don't crack wise with me, Pan-a-ma. I read your blog. I know what you're about! With all your little code names and endless monologues. You have to realize that you're our top suspect. You've told on yourself, son.
Panama: You got one more time to call me son, Oppressor! Since you read my blog, you NEED to realize that I've BEEN to Huntsville, Alabama. I know how this shit works. You got nothing on me, homie.
Detective: Oh, I don't? Don't I?!?!? You freely admit to watching an episode of College Hill, but then say that Bob Johnson is the devil. You listen to a teenager like Omarion and then turn around go to an 80s party dressed like that gangsta Eazy-E. Seems like you've got split personalities, homie. Which one is it today, Pan-a-ma? Were you feeling militant? Huh? Did the same tricks you've allegedly done inside a New York bar get on your nerves today when Brutha Code did it? Are you the only one who can *allegedly* flash a crowd? Did his act of taco meated indecency send you over the edge so that you'd shoot him?!?!?
Panama: What are you talking about? You know what? Since you read my blog, you can do a #26 for me right now. And if you don't know what that is, go look it up. Cracka. I ain't sayin shit.
Detective: Yeah...just as I thought. I'm gonna go look up what #26 is. Give you time to think about what might happen to you next. Pimpnificent, my ass...
Room 4: CHRISTEN
Detective: Ahhh, the youngest of the housemates. CocoaButterfly. NaturalButterfly. There's two sides to your coin, isn't there?
Christen: Officer, I really have a headache right now. Could you please just tell me why I'm here?
Detective: Don't play innocent with me, Co-coa! You know why you're here. Look at you. Sitting there all cute with your blown-out hair and doey eyes. Don't play with me. I read your blog. In fact, I read both of them! You're not as innocent as you claim to be. I know that you have a super secret side gig that you hide from everybody. Why the secrets, Co-coa?!? I know that sometimes, the things people do disgust you and you just wanna choke em. I read about the lady who rides the bike in the middle lane. The fat bastard that serves as "security" at your job. You think I didn't read all your How Comes?!?!? I did my homework, Co-coa. And I think this is what happened tonight...Brutha Code kept egging you on to show your tatas...you didn't want to. So you told him you would do it if he did. Then, when he didn't care and got up into the sunroof, you got so disgusted that you blacked out and shot him.
Detective: YESSSS! It's happened before, hasn't it? You blacking out and someone ending up hurt? HASN'T IT?!?!?
Christen: I want a lawyer.
Detective: I figured you might wanna jump into a cocoon now, Ms. Butterfly. I'll be back...
Room 5: KAJUANA
*Detective sits, playing solitaire waiting for Kajuana to show up*
Room 6: WILL
Detective: Well, well, well. Lookee at what we have here. The oldest of the housemates. Aren't you a little too old to be on some reality show?
Will: Nah, man. This is the SURREAL LIFE. Shit, Flava Flav AND Peter Brady are older than me and they've been on.
Detective: And they were both wack. Does that mean you're wack, too, Mr. InMyWriteMind?!?!?
Will: Heyyyy...I resemble that remark. What do you want with me, mannn?
Detective: Old as you are and you don't know why you're here, huh? Come on, Willll. I've read your blog. Good stuff. You seem genuine on the surface. But we both know the truth, don't we? Don't we, Willllll?
Will: I have no idea what you mean.
Detective: You're really not in your write mind, are you? You've been conspicuously absent the past week or so, claiming you were "away on business." That's right...I've checked your blog records. I've seen that even from the road...you're fond of drive-bys.
Detective: That's right, Oldielocks. I see that you check on blogs when you're on the road, but most of the time...you refuse to leave comments. What, you thought nobody knew? You ever heard of stats, my friend? Those site meters that let people know who came on their site and when? You think all the people you do drive-bys on don't know that you were there? Huh?!?!?
Will: You're crazy, man.
Detective: Crazy like a fox, you broke ass Scottie Pippen wannabe. Light-skinned guys are played out and so is your act, Willlll. I saw on Christen's blog that you didn't ask any questions even though she asked all of her friends to do so. I saw that you didn't comment on Squeegie's grown up couch, tell her how lovely it is like everybody else. I saw that when Panama asked people to tell him their favorite singers, you were nowhere to be found even though you read the post. AND I saw that you read Brutha Code's last post before retirement and didn't even say goodbye. He's your HOUSEMATE, for Condoleeza Rice's sake! No love for the Brutha?
Will: I meant to...
Detective: Blah! Save the drama for dinner theater at the old folks home, Mickey Rooney. I see right through you. You were upset that Brutha Code retired, weren't you? ANSWER ME!!!
Will: Well...*in the voice of Sam Jackson from A Time To Kill*YEAH I WAS MAD HE RETIRED AND I HOPE HE HURRIES BACK!!! You don't understand...he was the comedy portion of the day. He made it possible for people to get through their 9-to-5. And then he ups and retires, putting the pressure on the rest of the men bloggers to make the women laugh. It's not easy, I tell ya! I mean...just the other day...I DID A POST ABOUT ROACHES!!!! I can't carry that torch.
Detective: So you shot him?!?!?
Will: Hell no, I didn't shoot him. I want him to COME BACK, not to be laying flat ON HIS BACK! I'm innocent. Long live the CODE, MANNNN!
Detective: You better hope he lives. We've got enough drive-by evidence to send you away for a long time. Adding murder to your plate would make it a lifetime. Which wouldn't be long since you're almost 65 now. Write mind, my ass...
Back to Room 5: KAJUANA
*Detective still waiting*
*Finally, Kajuana shows up, waltzing in and claiming she preferred to go home and sleep off her inebriation before turning herself in...*
Detective: Hmmm...Kajuana Maria Consuelos Malwabba Schwartzman. Da Hell? Where'd you get all these damn names? Aren't you black?
Kajuana: Not anymore. I recently resigned.
Detective: Mmm hmmm. I bet you did. When did you do that? AFTER you got picked to be a witness in the Michael Jackson trial? What, did you stop being black because your homie Michael did?!?!? Or was it after your recent incident with the door girl at Republic Gardens that you concluded that you'd rather be anything but black?
Kajuana: Oh please. I love black people. It's the idiotic ones that I can't stand.
Detective: Yeah, OK Kay-Kay. Explain to me your relationship with Brutha Code.
Kajuana: He and I are frociates. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Detective: Yeah, I read your blog. Da hell is a frociate, anyway?
Kajuana: Well, if you read the blog you should know.
Detective: Ohhhh. That's the way you wanna play it. Fine with me. I'll just collect more evidence to use against you from your blog and draw my own conclusions. Let me tell you what I think...I think you secretly have something going on with Brutha Code that you don't want anyone to know about. This frociate shit is just a cover up since your saddity ass is too "fly" for any drama. So when other women in the house were giving him what you thought was undue attention...you got jealous, didn't you, Kasaundra?!?!? And then, conveniently you changed your nationality to "check other" to avoid suspicion right before you shot him. Your frociate, your lover. Is THAT how it went down?
Kajuana: You are out of your mind! Yes, I am "fly." But there's no way I would shoot Brutha. And WE ARE JUST FROCIATES!!!!! You gotta come with something better than that...
Detective: You know I'm right...and I'm ready to take this case before the DA...you stay put.
After failing to come up with sufficient evidence, the police still place all six housemates under arrest and then gather them together in the same room. All are given their one phone call and, after huddling, they agree that instead of calling lawyers they would call the bailbondsman G. Cornelius, whose motto is, after all, "I'll Keep You Posted."
Upon their release, the six try and put their heads together to figure out who shot BC!
*Meanwhile...back at MetroCentralCountyRepublic Hospital...Brutha Code lies in a coma...hanging on to life...*
Little did anyone know that the shooter was right in front of him...One...Dizzle...Down.
*to be continued next week by CHRISTEN*
scribbled by Will at 3/03/2005 09:34:00 AM
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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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