Tuesday, July 1, 2008
the tale of the big ass chain
Alright, so, about a month and a half ago or so, I was at Bun B's listening party at Verve. I'm chilling, having a great time, chopping it up with my boys and listening to Bun's project. In walks unnamed rapper and unnamed rapper's big ass, sparkling chain.
I subtly eye it and keep talking. Hell, I've been around countless rappers and their jewelry before. No, big deal. Right? Not this time. This shit is glistening so brightly, it damn near illuminates the entire area. I eye it again and keep talking.
Slowly, I start to move away from said rapper and his glorious chain. I figure that if I can move away, I will be unaffected by its mesmerizing charms. If I move away, I won't think about how much I could get for it. I won't think about how if I just sauntered up to him, pretending to be a fan of his lame ass music, and quickly snatched it off of his neck, I could pay off my school loans, my '02 Dodge Neon and move out of my janky ass apartment complex.
Just when I thought I had avoided temptation, unnamed rapper and his big ass chain, start heading in my direction.
I try to look away but I can't. I keep thinking about the sweet victory I'll be able to yell to Capital One auto loans when I pay their punk asses off... "take that, bitches!!" I keep thinking about the Sallie Mae 'pay us' letters I'll no longer have to avoid.
I take a deep breath and clutch my Heineken tight. I have will power. Really, I do. As unnamed rapper moves closer, oblivious to my thoughts, my fingers start itching...and I'm not even a clepto. The only thing I've ever stolen was a pair of $2 earrings from Target when I was 16. And I only did that to say that I had the experience.
Unnamed rapper is itching closer and closer and I start to visualize myself snatching the chain and running like a wild woman down the stairs of Verve, out of the club, and down the street, passing crackheads and scantily clad women with low self-esteem on my run of victory. Sweet, sweet victory. I take a long blink lost in the oh, so tangible fantasy.
Just then, unnamed rapper and his big ass chain quickly pass me by. I guess he had made the required rounds, paying homage to an established vet, and was leaving. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had evaded temptation... barely.
Moral of the story: Don't wear big ass chains out in public in the midst of a damn depression.
(And no, Joc- who is a cool dude- is NOT the unnamed rapper in this particular tale. His shit is just ridiculously large and illustrated my point).