The Darker Side

Okay:

Contrary to popular opinion, I am not an asshole. I can be an asshole, but under normal circumstances, I'm one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet.

Too nice, more often than not.

But sometimes...sometimes...people need to see your ass.

And I typically will oblige.

So, as my regular readers know, I moved into a significantly more expensive apartment late last year because at my old place, the teenagers had taken over the parking lot.

The last straw?

The little crew of teenagers who had made the parking lot their own private club had somehow gotten hold of an infant. This baby's nickname was..."Lil Nigga".

He'd be running around in his pampers while they smoked and drank and cursed at each other and blasted their music. Someone would say, "Uh uh, Lil Nigga. Don't do that."

When his "mother" came outside holding him on her hip everyone would get all giddy. "Whassup, Lil Nigga. What's going on, shawty?"

So, that was the last straw.

So here I am, paying an extra $500 a month so my daughter doesn't have to see all that every time she comes home from school. Things are definitely a lot nicer over here, but I did not realize until I was good and settled how many units are occupied by subsidizers. And apparently there's a program for people with disabilities that charters a few units for their clients.

Basically, there are a lot of retards and crackheads over here.

Now I don't have anything against retards. They need help. I'm just not so crazy about crackheads. And here's why.

There's a crackhead who lives in the unit above me. He's a tall, round guy. Can't be a day over 35. Looks like if he wanted to, he could clean himself up and go be a regular person.

But that crack rock be calling him.

So, what he likes to do, apparently, is knock on people's doors at night, asking for cigarettes. My neighbor warned me about this when I first moved in, but I didn't meet the guy until a few weeks ago.

Sure enough, around 9 o'clock at night, my daughter and I were watching The Wizards of Waverly Place when the doorbell rang. I answered the door and there will this scruffy, chubby, caramel fellow scratching his head and looking a little confused. "Do you have a cigarette?" he asked.

"No," I said, unsure of whether or not I was talking to one of the retards or a crackhead.

"Okay, thank you," he said, then moved on to another door.

I must admit, I was a little heated. I could have stayed in the hood for all this. I told myself that I would report him to the rental office the next day, but then thought better of it, considering the fact that I hadn't confronted him about it.

The next time, my mother was coming to pick my daughter up. I walked them to the door and saw my little friend sauntering down the stairs. I could see the look in his eyes, so I stood in my doorway and waited for my mother and child to make it to the car. He caught them before they hit the pavement.

"Excuse me? Do you have a cigarette?"

Well.

I didn't say anything that time. Didn't want any unpleasantness in front of the family. But I knew if I ever saw that guy again and he said anything other than "hello", we were going to have a problem. Retard, crackhead or whatever.

So, yesterday, as I was returning home from work, he was waiting in the parking lot. I knew what he wanted, and it was all I could do to contain myself and wait for him to speak.

"Excuse me, sir," he said.

"I don't have no damn cigarette."

He seemed a little surprised. I could see his brain working. "I wasn't going to ask you that. I was going to ask you if I had ever asked you for a cigarette."

Then I was confused for a moment.

"Yes, you have asked me for a cigarette before. You knocked on my door. But I don't smoke. And neither does anyone in my family. So you don't have to ask me anymore."

"Well, I won't then," he said, as if I was the asshole.

"Thank you," I said. Still trying to maintain some degree of cordiality.

I thought I handled it well. But when I relayed this story to an old friend of mine she said, "Claude, you are such an asshole."

It seems to me that, sadly, if you insist on living in a black neighborhood (like I do) then this is the type of shit you have to deal with occasionally. It's good though, because it doesn't allow me to forget how connected we all are.

But if that motherfucker ever knocks on my door again, I'm going to show him the darker side of my ass. Which certainly is not a good thing.


Thanks for reading.



GOBAMA!

Click here to download the new single: "No Fear" featuring Phonte and Asheru. It includes the Joe D remix, 2 b-sides and video interviews with Cool Cee Brown. FREE FOR A LIMITED TIME.

Confession: I used to have a thing for Jennifer Tilly. I don't know why. She's a pretty simple looking, pale white woman. But one day she was on Leno with this dress on, and she hiked one of her big juicy creamy thighs up to cross her legs and I literally started drooling. Can't call that one.