Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Fear Factor.


It is an emotional response to threats and danger.

Many times in my life, it has instilled itself in me.

It might have been as small as a the threat of a beat down at school or a big as a 9mm aimed in my direction but the result was the same: pure unadulterated fear. Being the strong man I am, I've never allowed myself to succumb to those fears because Mama Sharon didn't raise no punks... except one time. One stinkin' time. All over two words.

I'm late.

That's what she said.

I, on the other hand, heard the sounds of my hopes and dreams whistling past my ear and straight out of the window.

"Nah, she just didn't say what I thought she did..." as I had a short conversation with myself as she warbled on beside me.

"She must be talkin' bout being late for school or something." I reasoned.

Sadly, school was not the destination she was late for... it was the punctuality of her punctuation that led to this unfortunate conversation between us as she turned her period into an exclamation point which gave a chance for my Million Dollar Babies to become potential dollar signs.

I was crushed. I was only a freshman in college; I didn't know anything about raising myself, let alone a family. I think I was depressed for a week about the fact that I'd let my family down as well as changed the course of my life.

You see, folks... I was supposed to be the good one.

I had good grades, a scholarship to a prestigious historically black university and I'd never been in any serious trouble. I was Theo Huxtable without the doctor and lawyer for parents; the kid you'd never see on a after school special smoking crack from a glass pipe outside of a metal trash can.

After sorting through all of my feelings on the matter, I decided to do what was right - I drank 3 shots of 151 until I worked up enough nerve to let her make her own decision about what to do about the burgeoning seed in her secret garden.

Then I started wondering if she had more than one bouncing around in there... as my extended family definitely has a way with procreation. I am the proud uncle of 10 nieces and nephews (I only have 2 siblings) so let's just say our fertilizer is definitely potent. It was at that point where I began to feel warm drops of saline to dance on my cheeks.

Please note: this was not crying. It was probably some allergies or something.

Undaunted, I began dialing to inform her about my thoughts.

"What was that number again? Naw, that's the number to Roma Pizza. Man, they got some good pizza and it's only $5. That's a real deal there. I'm so hungry. Wait, I can't afford pizza now - I'm about to be a daddy. A daddy? Me? I can't be a daddy. *muffled curse words*"

She picked up.

The end of my childhood had arrived.

"Isuhhappyitkam!!!!" She shouted into the phone some unrecognizable type of jargon in some pygmy language.

"What?" I replied.

"ISUHHAPPYITKAM!!!" She exclaimed again.

"WHAT?"  I shouted back, clearly frustrated.

"I'm so happy it came." She said, finally calming down a bit.

"What came, girl? Do I have to start paying child support early? Is it the bill from the doctor? Is it a receipt from Babies R Us?" I sadly whimpered into the receiver of the phone.

"Boy, what are you talking about? My period came two days ago. I was happy that I got my new R. Kelly CD in the mail from BMG."

Life's lessons always come in interesting packages, don't they?

That's my time.

 - Mr. Smart Guy
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