Had a good Mother’s Day with mama ON&ON. She needed a new spring jacket, so I took her to Goodwill in Central Square. I copped her a Donna Karan lil sumthin for $7 and I was a hero.
We sat outside on a bench building, while watching three Central Square homeless drunks take turns falling in the middle of the sidewalk in front of horrified fgt M.I.T. professors.
We discussed the fact my mother is disgusted with the Cleveland Basement Rapist’s mom declaring that she is sorry, and suffering with everyone else involved in the tragedy. According to my mother, she is a filthy fraud of a person who ignores her role in creating a monster of a son due to the fact she was in relationships with abusive men, in turn, creating a strong resentment of women in her son, affecting his decision to keep three chicks locked in a basement for 10 years.
The 30 minute scooter ride with a dozen roses tucked in between my legs was worth it.
So I get back around the way, and decide to hit up Rusty’s Liquors on American Legion before I head home.
Coming out the exit, I see a chick in a Grey tricked out Civic driving erratically. I soon realize she’s trying to avoid a dude in a tricked out black Civic that’s on her tail. What seemed like slow-motion, dude violently smashes into her side. Boooom!
Immediately, dude jumps out the whip and starts screaming some Spanish shit at the chick while punching his car.
She jumps out her whip, and starts running towards the median. Lucky no other cars were around. Her right slipper fell off and the whole shit.
Dude starts chasing her…screaming.
I’m sitting on Bernie Rosenberg (my scooter) with a 6 pack of Natty Ice in the trunk watching on horrifically.
Dude stops chasing her and runs back to his damaged Civic.
“Fuck you, bitch! (SpanishSpanishSpanish)….Fuckin whore!”
He peels off, car badly damaged.
She is crying hysterically with one slipper on, and titties all desheviled…I woulda definitely hit.
She runs back to her whip, and gets on the phone.
By this time, I’ve rushed to the scene along with a black woman in her mid thirties (Anita Baker haircut), a 22 year old Puerto Rican Mc’donalds employee, and a drunk guy who just came from Rusty’s liquors.
Chick starts screaming on the phone.
“(SpanishSpanishSpanishSpanish)…..That’s IT my nigga…he fucked up! He fucked up my car!!!! (SpanishSpanishSpanishSpanish)….he wanted it to be over…fuck it my nigga, it’s over! That (Spanish SpanishSpanishSpanish)….is getting locked up! Fuck that! I’m tired of this domestic violence bullshit! (Spanishforthreeminutes)”
I approach the Mc’donalds kid, now nervously inhaling a Newport.
“You saw that shit?”
“Yeah, nigga…he pulled a knife on her and the whole shit!”
For the record, Puerto Rican’s say “nigga” more than black people. There’s an article in the Wall Street Journal, trust me.
So Mc’donald’s kid proceeds to tell me what he saw.
“They started beefin in line, so he hemmed her up…then she got loose, and my nigga pulled a knife out and shit…then she ran out and got in her ride, then he got a rock and threw it through her window, then she drove off, and he chased her, and rammed her.”
Then drove off.
7PM. Light outside. In line at a Mc’donalds with customers and cameras. You black out to the point you hemm up a chick, flash a knife, chase someone, throw a rock in their window, and crash into their car….then drive off, as some fgt on a scooter watches the whole thing.
That, my friends, is the definition of a sociopath.
Me and Anita Baker approach the chick once she gets off the phone. She’s trembling. Traumatized. Lucky to be alive.
Titties lookin mad right.
Anita asks her if she’s ok, and embraces her.
She bursts out sobbing, pulls her hair, and falls to the ground.
I’m standing there with my dopey scooter helmet still on.
10 minutes later, a fire truck arrives, followed by an ambulance, followed by the reliable Boston Police…20 minutes later.
I’m prepared to stick around and
snitch volunteer my witness account to the police, until 4 car loads of Puerto Ricans pull up to the scene….All in tricked out Civics.
She called the posse, and they are here. Justice will be served. That dude is food.
I returned to Bernie Rosenberg, and reflected on two moments of clarity I experienced this Mother’s Day.
God bless our precious mothers everywhere…and thank God I’m single.