To those of my readers who are always sending me emails asking whether or not the Brett and the City stories are true, I can honestly say that I wish that I had that much creativity in this little head of mine. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t be selling copiers for a living. The truth of the matter is that sometimes I swear that if it weren’t for bad luck, I’d probably have none at all. I can literally just be walking down the street minding my own business, and somehow some way craziness just always has a way of seeking me out.
Growing up as a child I used to think that I was somehow cursed, however now I realize that’s not the case at all. It’s pretty evident that God obviously just has a warped sense of humor, and for some crazy reason he just thoroughly gets a kick out f*cking with me. It’s the only possible explanation.
Case in point; this past Tuesday morning I had a copier appointment in Brooklyn Heights. The prospect I was meeting with sent message that he was running a half an hour late, and so I decided to stroll down to the neighborhood Starbucks just to kill some time. Since I knew the area pretty well, instead of taking the main streets I decided to take a little detour through one of the really nice residential blocks so that I could see all of the cool brownstones along the way.
The weather was a perfect 78 degrees, and since it was only 10 am there was virtually no one else on the block, which is a rare occurrence for New York. As I was bopping down the street in my new slightly irregular suit I just got on sale from the Justin Beiber collection at Kohl’s, contemplating life and being thankful that I still managed to keep my job after accidentally buying my boss a set of anal beads for her birthday; I could’ve swore that I heard something that sounded a lot like chickens clucking a few yards ahead. However, with the sheer likeliness of that being possible here in New York City; I basically just paid it no mind– assuming it was obviously either just my imagination, or another relapse from that really bad batch of shrooms someone slipped me in the 10th grade.
Suddenly just as I was passing this really cool modern looking house in the middle of the block, the absolute unbelievable happened. From out of nowhere these four big ass chickens came darting out from around the gate and then started coming straight at me full speed. I could literally not believe what my eyes were seeing. My first thought was “Dammit, it’s the shrooms again!” But the second those enormous birds started pecking and clawing me at the ankles, I quickly realized “Oh shit Brett, this is really happening!”
Now we all know that there’s really pretty much no telling what you might see on any given day here in New York. I once saw two homeless men spooning on the ground next to a Dairy Queen dumpster, after not even ten minutes before having just nearly fought each other to the death over an old Burger King snack wrap. But never in a million years would you expect to be walking down the street and suddenly get ambushed by a flock of chickens. This was even a first for New York.
To make matters even worse, it just so happens that I’ve actually been clinically diagnosed with ornithophobia; which is basically a deathly fear of birds. Every since that time I got attacked by that crazed ravenous pigeon when I was six for intentionally pissing on his nest. I guess you can say I had an unusually powerful aim for a kid, coupled with a really horrible babysitter. Anyway… by the time that pigeon let me loose, I could barely even watch Tweedy Bird without pissing my pants and hiding under my bed. So you can only imagine just what was going through my mind the moment I saw those four big fifty pound chickens coming after me. As far as I was concerned it might as well had been Chucky the doll, accompanied by those three demon dogs from I am Legend. Because I couldn’t have possibly been any more gripped with fear.
This was my most absolute worst nightmare come straight to life. So naturally I did what any one else would do faced with a life or death situation. I dropped my briefcase and took off running like a bitch. To my surprise, the damn chickens actually took off running after me. They were clearly on some kind of a mission. I could not believe what was happening. Here I am running down the street like a mad man, in my new slightly irregular Justin Beiber suit, with a pack of angry chickens hot on my ass. In that moment I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Wow God…Really?”
Now I don’t know if these were just ordinary chickens, or if they were somehow genetically engineered, but these damn chickens were fast as hell. I was running as fast as I humanly could, but I swear every time I turned around it seemed like their little chicken legs were gaining on me. Next, I did the absolute unthinkable. That thing that every single white woman does in every horror film ever made. I accidentally tripped and fell. And unfortunately by the time I finally made it back to my feet, it was too late. The chickens had all split up and within an instant had now cornered me off execution style, just like the lions do in the jungle.
It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Almost like they had practiced it before. I thought “Shit… these are the most organized damn chickens I’ve ever seen.” It was as if they had stayed up all the night before running scrimmages. Then suddenly as if on cue, they all started moving in for the kill. It’s funny too because when faced with death, it really is true what they all say. Because in an instant I actually saw my entire life flash before my eyes. I remember thinking, “Wow, is that where I left that damn TV remote?”
My heart was beating so fast that I literally thought it was going to jump out of my chest. I thought “Oh Lord…please tell me this isn’t how it ends?” There was still so much more I wanted to do in life like: going fishing in the Himalayas with my future father in law, or cutting a Grammy winning Christmas album with Jay Z. I thought it can’t all just end like this. Whenever I get really nervous I have this somewhat rare disorder that causes me to just pass out cold. So I prayed then and there “Whatever you do Little Baby Jesus…please don’t let me pass out now?” Because there was no telling what kind of sick and depraved things these devil chickens would do to my lifeless corps. I could already see the headlines, “Brooklyn Guy Dies after Chicken Gang-bang Scene Goes Terribly Wrong” or “Little Black Man Killed by 4 Angry Cocks”. This was somehow not the legacy that I wanted to leave my family.
Determined not to go out as some chicken’s bitch, with no other choice I began hurling my arms and kicking my legs trying to fight them off. The big grey one who obviously was the ring leader must’ve given them the signal, because the next thing I knew they all took to the sky for an airborne attack. I was so not expecting that one, so naturally I let out a loud white woman scream. Having heard my scream, some of the neighbors eventually came out to see what all the commotion was. Now cut to me: this little 5’6” black guy in an all white neighborhood fighting a pack of chickens in the middle of the street. This was technically no longer a good day.
Then believe it or not, one of the old ladies who came out actually had the nerve to yell out from her stoop “Hey… what are you doing to those chickens? Leave those Chickens alone!!” I thought “WTF… lady you have got to be kidding me?” I’ve been accused of a lot of things in my day, but never before have I been accused of harassing chickens. Racism is really a funny thing. Because no matter how far we’ve come as a people, there’s even finally a Black man in The White House; but the mere second white folks see a brother scuffling in the street with a few chickens, they instantly go right back to slavery. I’m clearly out here being pecked to death by a bunch of cocks. Yet in her mind all she sees is Chicken George out for the take. I furiously snapped back “You crazy bitch this ain’t Roots! I like my chicken on a plate next to two sides and a biscuit! Not flying at my damn throat!”
It was clear that none of the people were going to help me and unfortunately I had left my pepper spray back in my briefcase. But I somehow remembered reading that chickens were afraid of water. So thinking fast on my feet and with no other weapon in sight, I quickly whipped out my penis and started pissing on the chickens. Sure it was a little unorthodox, but it was the only thing I could do to keep them at bay. So now here I am, a little black guy in a suit in an all white neighborhood, standing in the middle of the street pissing on chickens. I knew someday that powerful razor like aim would come in handy for something other than shooting ice-sickles down from the back of my mom’s garage.
Eventually the owners of the chickens finally came out and rescued me from their killer birds, who after a thousand apologies I later learned had done this several times before. As it turned out, the chickens belonged to some young eccentric couple who, despite the fact that Trader Joe’s was just two blocks away, decided to raise their own chickens for the fresh eggs. I guess organic just isn’t good enough for some people. I thought “Now ain’t this a bitch? I literally almost just lost my freaking life, just so your damn kids can have fresh omelets in the morning.”
I finally made it back over to my big appointment. And the second I walked in all scratched up and covered with chicken feathers, and not to mention piss running down the front of my good Beiber slacks, with his mouth wide open my client asked “Oh my Lord… what on earth happened?” Imagine how crazy I must’ve looked when I simply replied “Oh, I just got attacked by some run away chickens.”
IF YOU LIKE THIS ARTICLE PLEASE SHARE IT!! AND I LOVE COMMENTS SO PLEASE REMEMBER TO LEAVE ONE BELOW!
As a copier salesman in New York, you spend a great deal of time out in the field going on appointments and trying to uncover new leads. Since I generally never have too many of either, I pretty much spend most of my days walking aimlessly through the streets of Manhattan. This past Friday attempting to kill sometime, I decided to pop by my favorite little sex novelty shop in The Village to see if any exciting new midget porn dvd’s had come in. Rumor has it that my favorite adult star Bridget the Midget had made a full recovery since she got mauled by that pit bull filming last year’s hit Little People Big Dogs Vol. 4. Apparently she got a little carried away during the taping, and evidently learned the hard way that there are just some places a woman just doesn’t stick her finger: no matter how much the dog seems into it. With that said, I figured it was just a matter of days before some of her new movies hit the streets.
Although I didn’t see anything new, while perusing the shop I noticed they were having a big jewelry sale. Never being one to pass up a good savings, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to look around. Even though I didn’t see anything that was my particular cup of tea, on a shelf next to a bunch of silver trinkets and such I noticed this really interesting looking necklace. It was very long and made up of these big shiny blue pearls, and according to the tag it was marked down to just $18 bucks. That’s when it hit me, “This would be a perfect birthday gift for my supervisor Artemis!” Artemis is this chubby little Armenian bitch, and no doubt the biggest kiss ass of the entire company. All day long she tortures everyone in the office with this loud annoying laugh she does whenever the CEO is around; and then the mere second he walks away she instantly turns right back into the Vampire Queen from True Blood. Today was her actual birthday, so it was a perfect idea. Since she had been riding my ass all month for yet again not making quota, not only could I score a few points and finally get her off my ass; I was almost positive that none of those other cheap bastards from my team would think to get her anything, therefore making me stand out as the one good guy of the group. The idea was dare I say genius. And since she loves nothing more than to parade her big belly around the office in these tight cheap garish outfits, the loud blue pearls would surely be right up her alley.
Without thinking twice I slapped my money down on the counter, and then went directly to the party store next door to get the present wrapped. When it comes to giving gifts, presentation is actually the most important part of all. So naturally I didn’t hesitate a bit spending the extra $4.33 for the really cool platinum colored paper and ribbon. Not to mention, I’ve seen enough episodes of Keeping Up With the Kardashian’s to know that Armenian women tend to have an affinity for really shiny things. And of course Black guys. When they were done at the party store, I could hardly wait to get back to the office and surprise Artemis with her gift. Today was also our big company-wide quarterly sales meeting. Seeing how before every big meeting, Artemis comes around individually to each person from our team to go over our numbers for her big report; I figured it would be the perfect time to give it to her. I could already see the looks on my other team members faces when they realized that I had outsmarted them. In the world of business, you can never be afraid to think outside of the box. Something that I pretty much prided myself in.
As soon as I walked in, just as I thought, Artemis had already begun her tirade. Walking in the door I could already hear her nagging little voice as she belittled each team member for their lack luster sales. Finally it was my turn. Just as planned, I reached into my briefcase and surprised her with the beautifully wrapped gift box. Suddenly everyone’s eyes were now on me. “Oh…what’s this?” she remarked in that snarky tone “Is this for me?” Wasting no time, I replied “Surprise! Happy Birthday Artemis!” catching her completely off guard. Somewhat apprehensive, she replied “Brett, you got me a gift?” to which I responded “Of course I did, it’s your birthday! You do such an amazing job around here motivating us all Artemis. I just really wanted to give you a little token of my appreciation.” Man, if I had a camera to record the looks on all of those losers’ faces when I dropped that one on her? It was like we were playing poker and I had just laid down my full house. I thought “Read em’ and weep bitches!”
My plan must’ve really worked too, because for the first time she actually smiled without the CEO being within eye shot. Completely moved, she replied “Oh wow. I don’t know what to say. No one here has ever bought me a gift before.” She then slowly opened the box as if still waiting for some kind of punch line. The moment she saw blue pearls her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “OMG it’s beautiful! Pearls are my absolute favorite! How’d you know?” “Because I pay attention Artemis…go ahead put it on.” I commented. Removing the necklace from the box, with a very puzzled expression she replied “That’s strange…I can’t find the clasp. Actually there doesn’t seem to be one.” I thought “WTF?” As I examined the necklace myself, that was when it hit me, “F*ck! That’s why it was so cheap. The damn thing is obviously irregular.” This was beyond horrible. I couldn’t believe those assholes down at the The Fury Pussy Cat would sell me a defective necklace. I swear some people have literally zero integrity.” I thought “If you can’t trust the people at your local adult dvd store then dammit who can you trust?” My plan was suddenly unraveling right before my eyes. Thinking fast on my feet, I replied “Oh no, there’s not supposed to be a clasp. It’s actually European. Yeah…I think you just kind of drape it around your neck like a scarf. That’s why it’s so long. It’s all the rage in Paris right now.” Still a little apprehensive she replied “It is?” “Yes!” I confirmed, “Julia Roberts wore one just like it on Oprah the other day.” Being that was her favorite actress in the entire universe; that was all the confirmation she needed. She then wrapped the broken necklace around her neck a few times as she checked her reflection in the mirror. “It’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed, “And so chic too.”
At last I was saved. I couldn’t believe that she actually bought it. Still smiling from ear to ear, she then eagerly turned to the rest of the team and replied “I can’t believe you guys! You all are so cute. So what else did I get?” As she looked around waiting for more gifts to pop out, no one said a word. “You mean Brett was the only one who remembered my birthday?” Judging by the stupid looks on all of their faces as they looked around cluelessly, the answer was pretty apparent. Her smile instantly changed back to the all too familiar scowl. As tension grew in the aisle, grasping at straws; Gracie, the little old Jewish rep with the drinking problem, picked up a coupon from her desk and replied “Well…I have this coupon a client gave me for a $5 off a meat lover’s pizza if you want?” Artemis snapped, snatching the coupon from Gracie’s hand and ripping it up “No I don’t want your stupid f*ckin coupon! Do I look like I eat at Papa John’s to you?!” After a really awkward silence while we all just kind of indirectly stared at her belly protruding from under her blouse, she suddenly snapped again “I swear I have the sorriest f*cking team in this building! With the exception of Brett, the rest of you are nothing more than blisters on my taint! The quarterly meeting is at four, and none of you idiots better do anything to embarrass me in front of the CEO!” She then stormed off. The rest of that day it seemed every time I passed her in the hall, she was showing off her new necklace to someone different. Anytime anyone commented she would strike this stupid pose followed by the laugh “Oh you like it? One of my employees bought it for my birthday. They really do spoil me. Isn’t it chic? Julia Roberts has one just like it.”
Later that day it was time for the big meeting. As a result, everyone in the company very nervously filed into the boardroom room awaiting the usual verbal slaughter. Since the CEO has a tendency for being a bit of a tyrant, the quarterly meetings are always an extremely stressful environment. During the last one, the CEO got so worked up he actually threw a stapler at Sherman for merely asking to go to the restroom. One by one, each supervisor took their turn standing up and delivering their team’s figures before the room. It was eventually our turn. Having the strongest figures in the company, Artemis couldn’t wait for her opportunity to for once outshine her peers. Full of confidence, she stood up with her note pad and just before speaking, she swung her new pearl necklace around her neck the way you would a scarf, I guess just for a little extra drama. As she delivered her numbers accompanied by that ever-present laugh, for some reason I noticed the CEO starring at the necklace with this really puzzled look on his face. A few minutes into the presentation he finally interrupted, “I’m sorry Artemis. But why do you have a set of anal beads around your neck?” The entire room completely froze. Then to make matters even worse; Yvonne the Ghetto Receptionist and the only other Black person in the room, repeated at the top of her lunges “Anal beads?!” as if we didn’t already hear it the first time.
Dumbfounded, Artemis replied “Excuse me sir?” The CEO then repeated it again, “Anal beads. Why in the hell do you have anal beads around your neck?” Suddenly my heart dropped completely out of my body down to the floor. “Oh no!!” I thought to myself, “This can’t be happening! Did I just accidentally buy my boss a set of anal beads? Is that the the reason it was sitting next to all those darn butt plugs?” Hind sight is always 20/20. I swear, it was as if all the oxygen had just immediately left my body. For a second the room started spinning and I had to take sip of water just to stop from passing out at the table. This had to be hands down the absolute worst day of my life. Still somewhat confused, and with an embarrassed little chuckle, Artemis replied “No Sir, what a funny joke. It’s actually European wrap necklace. Brett bought it for my birthday. Julia Roberts has one too.” The CEO replied frankly “Well then Julia Roberts must be into ass sex because those are definitely anal beads.” Literally fire engine red by this point, Artemis turned and shot me a look. Coincidentally, my Black ass was nearly just as red. Go figure?
At that point the CEO turned his attention to me. Putting me completely on the spot he asked “Mr. Sanders, do you typically buy your supervisors anal beads for their birthday?” Nervous beyond belief, I replied “No Sir, I don’t.” “Then I’m confused, why did you do it this time.” With my voice still shaking with fear, I accidentally replied “Because they were on sale.” Now at this point, Yvonne fell completely out her chair on to the floor laughing, while repeatedly shouting at the top of her lunges “On sale?? Nigga you crazy!! Nigga you crazy!!” This was technically not a good day. Filled with rage, Artemis turned back to me and said “My office! First thing Monday Morning! And it’s not going to be good. So, do you have anything to say for yourself?” With everyone in the room still looking at me, and at a loss for words: the only thing I could think to say was, “Well…look on the bright side. Thank God I didn’t buy the ones that were marked second hand.”
IF YOU LIKE THIS ARTICLE PLEASE SHARE IT!! AND I LOVE COMMENTS SO PLEASE REMEMBER TO LEAVE ONE BELOW!
I’d like to apologize to everyone for needing to take a two week hiatus from the column. However after suffering through probably the most traumatic incident of my life, I desperately needed to give myself some time to emotionally recover: after meeting someone who I thought was sure to be the most amazing love of my life; but as luck would have it, was nothing more than a crazy psycho bitch, who after I refused to join her religious cult; ended up trying to have me abducted–literally.
Her name was Marissa, and we met one day while I was sitting at Starbucks on my laptop. Out of nowhere this beautiful girl sits down beside me and to my surprise struck up a conversation. That kind of thing absolutely never happens to me. After an hour of talking about everything from the importance of Activia yogurt to people and their annoying smart phones, I realized that this could possibly be the woman I was going to marry. We even discovered that we both had a huge love for Helen Reddy, who she also agreed was pretty much the Lady Gaga of 70’s folk music. This was all just too good to be true. We eventually exchanged numbers and agreed to go out for dinner that very next evening. I was beyond ecstatic. The moment I walked out of Starbucks I couldn’t wait to call up my grandmother and tell her the good news. I finally met “the one”; and so she could now stop telling everyone back at home that I was really just “a big gay”, and that I also have a secret thing for Tito Jackson. All because one day when I was 7 I just casually happened to mentioned that I thought he had a magical smile. And that I bet those big strong arms of his could really keep a girl safe and warm through the night. It’s not my fault I was an early reader, and the only books my mom kept around the house were those little Harlequin Romance novels.
When Marissa arrived at Red Lobster the next evening for some reason she looked a little different than I remembered the day before. She was now dressed in this long denim prairie skirt, Rebok sneakers, and this old Victorian looking shirt with ruffles that came all the way up to her chin. Not quite what one would expect for a first date; or the 60th for that matter. It caught me a little off guard at first but then I realized, with the way that all of these darn restaurants here in New York always keep their stupid AC’s on full blast; she obviously just didn’t want to catch a cold. And I agree, there’s nothing worse than one of those pesky summer colds. I thought, “Beautiful, smart, and she and values the importance of a strong immune system? This one sounds like a keeper to me.”
I first noticed that something was a little strange when after our food arrived; she asked if it would be okay if she said a few words to bless the table. Completely relieved, seeing how the only prayer I knew was that stupid little sing along I learned in camp that ends with jazz hands and a big “Oh yeah!”; I replied “Please do by all means.” I then closed my eyes for a little pre chow blessing. I swear that damn prayer must’ve gone on for at least 35 minutes. I had never heard a longer prayer in my life. I thought, “Okay was she blessing the table, or all of lower Manhattan?” I kept expecting it to end any second but it never did. It just kept going on and on and on. She covered everything in the bible from Ecclesiastics on. Mean while I’m looking around because not only are the cheese biscuits getting cold, but the two $14 margaritas I ordered were pretty much all watered down by this point. With nothing else to do, I eventually started going over my grocery list for the week; my to-do list at work; I even started arranging my favorite movies from the summer in my head in alphabetical order. And from the look of things this chick was still just warming up. It went on so long that I literally had to take a bathroom break right in the middle of it. Whenever your prayer requires an intermission, there’s definitely a problem. And believe it or not, when I came back she actually picked up exactly where she left off. I thought, “Give me a f*cking break!” Finally not able to take it any longer, I interrupted with a quick round of applause and a loud “Amen! Great job! We are officially all blessed up now. Probably even for now for the six months. Let’s dig in.”
After an hour of somewhat pleasant dinner conversation, Marissa asked me if I belonged to a church. When I said no, she insisted that I come with her the next day. Now mind you I haven’t been back to church since I got kicked out when I was five years old for heckling the reverend. Although I don’t recall; apparently he must’ve been going on and on about needing more money for the ubiquitous “church building fund”, and according to my mother I yelled out, “Then why don’t you sell that big ass Cadillac!” from the back of the congregation. Hey I was a kid; sometimes you just call them as you see them. Since I really didn’t have anything else planned for that next morning I agreed to go. Honestly, I thought it was a little endearing that she was already so concerned about my salvation. I thought, “Maybe she could still be the one after all?” The next big sign should’ve been the moment I called her phone to see that she made it home okay that night. When I reached her voice mail, to my surprise I discovered that she left her outgoing message completely in tongues. “Hmhh that’s a little weird”, I thought “but hey, who am I to judge? Maybe she’s expecting a call from Jesus?” I’m always hearing how he talks to people. Maybe Jesus is in her AT&T Friends and Family Circle?
The very next morning we met in Queens at this place called The Church of Christ and Real Bible Understanding, and that’s where sh*t really got weird. Inside were literally hundreds of people dressed in big prairie dresses and bad polyester suits. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen. It was like Pimps Up Hoes Down meets Big Love. From the moment I walked in, I noticed that every single person in the entire building instantly began smiling at me. I thought “WTF?” There’s nothing freakier than a room full of white folks dressed in prairie sh*t smiling at you from ear to ear like they all know something you don’t. Everyone smiled too; women, men, even the little toddlers smiled at me as they rolled by in their strollers. Paranoia set in, and I thought “Now either these mother f*ckas are planning on sacrificing me today; or someone in the lobby is selling some good ass chronic?” Either way, I didn’t feel comfortable. I started immediately trying to remember which one of my friends I told where I was going, just in case my Black ass turned up pickled in a jar. You never know, and besides I do remembering reading somewhere that “Nigga Toes” were considered a delicacy and some remote place in Eastern Europe.
We finally took our seats just as the service was beginning. After sitting through 20 minutes of the strangest songs I ever heard, the preacher then emerged from behind a curtain. The preacher was this crazy looking old white man with silver hair and an electric blue suit. I’m not kidding, from the very moment he stepped out onto the stage, everyone single person in the crowd immediately broke into the Holy Ghost; including the little babies. Everybody began screaming, crying, and falling to the floor. For a second, hell I even got swept up in the excitement and started shouting. With all the pandemonium in the room, I thought perhaps Oprah had just walked in. Then all the screaming just stopped on a dime the instant the preacher lifted his right hand to the sky and grabbed the mic with his left. Amazed, I thought “What the hell kind of pimp shit is this?”
Halfway through the sermon the preacher called for all the new comers to come up onto the stage. Although I had absolutely no intention on walking up there, everyone sitting around me started smiling big and saying, “Don’t be afraid. Go up and be delivered.” Finally Marissa grabbed me by the hand and led me up. We all lined up in a single file across the stage. Then as the preacher would walk over to each person and say a few words, he’d touch them on their head and as if miraculously somehow each of them began speaking in tongues as a sign of their deliverance. I thought, “Okay Brett, what the f*ck have you just gotten yourself into now?” Eventually it was my turn, and it’s safe to say that I was pretty scared shitless. I thought, “I have no idea how to speak in tongues.” However, at the same time my competitive nature kicked in and I thought, “Sh*t, I don’t want to be the only one on stage looking like a damn heathen either.” Now the only thing I could think of that sounded even remotely close to tongues was that old rap song by that group J.J. Fad. So after the preacher walked over to me and said his little spiel and tapped me on the head; thinking fast I immediately broke into a few lyrics from Supersonic. I closed both my eyes, threw my hands up and shouted, “I’m a sama lama dama lama doo ma see ma nama lama doo ma lama nama see ma Na ma lama doo ma lama see ma lama see ma doo ma humma!” I got so carried away with the rap that at the end I even hit them with the part of the song that goes, “Yeah…yeah that was it!” Suddenly the crowd went crazy. Everyone in the place started jumping into the aisles and catching the spirit like never before. People were running over and high-fiving Marissa for bringing me in. The response was phenomenal. I felt just like Neo in the Matrix.
Right after service I was ushered into the office and given a new members packet and some kind of strange contract to sign. When I told them I had no interest in joining the church, suddenly the entire room went silent. As much as Marissa and her preacher tried to persuade me that I was obviously one of “the chosen ones”, I kept exclaiming that I still had no interest in being a part of their church. Realizing they weren’t trying to accept no for an answer, I eventually got agitated and walked out. For the following two weeks after, Marissa and other members of the church began calling me nonstop on the phone, sometimes as much as 20 times a day. With no choice but to finally change my number, they then started calling me at work. Completely fed up, I eventually snapped one day and shouted into the phone, “Look here you crazy Bitch! I’m never joining your stupid cult so stop calling me!” I then arranged to reroute any future calls coming in from to Yvonne The Ghetto Receptionist. Yvonne cursed out bill collectors for a living, so I’m sure these people would be like a warm up exorcise. At last I was finally rid of them, so I thought.
The very next day after work, just as I was casually strolling by the little isolated stretch of where houses that I have to pass everyday to get home; I notice this white van sort of inching up behind me. Assuming that it was just another delivery truck lost in the area, I paid it no mind and just kept on listening to my The Best of Helen Reddy playlist on my Ipod. Suddenly the van screeched to a halt right in front of me scaring the living bajeezuz out of me. Out of nowhere the side door swings open, and then to my surprise I see Marissa behind the wheel of the car. With an evil look in her eye she yelled, “There he is! Get his little ass!” Next as if on cue, two big white guys jumped out with rope and duct tape in their hands. I thought, “WTF!” I had never been so afraid in my life. So now cut to my short ass running down the street for my life, with two big buffed white men chasing after me with duct tape; meanwhile Marissa is following suit in the getaway van. This was definitely not looking good. I felt like I was in a movie. Suddenly she whips the van up onto the sidewalk blocking me off, while the two guys ran up from behind and began trying to force me in the van. Panicked, I thought “Lord this is it! The next time anyone sees me I’m going to be smiling from ear to ear in a polyester suit and passing out pamphlets at the airport. Hell I don’t even like polyester.” I thought, “Dammit, where is that old crack whore Holler Back’s crazy ass when you really need her?”
I remembered hearing an expert say on Oprah once that if you’re ever abducted, under no circumstances should you let them take you to a second location. With no other choice I began fighting for my life. By the grace of “my” God, I finally managed to escape by the skin of my teeth. If it wasn’t for the pepper spray and rape whistle that I keep on my person at all times, I would’ve surely been a goner. When I made it home I immediately reported the incident to the police. Thankfully they had enough information to pick up Marissa and her goons for kidnapping and assault. Apparently, they had done something like this before. Unfortunately now as a result of my traumatic event, anytime I hear someone saying a prayer before eating; no matter where ever I am, I immediately get up and haul ass. Just one more damn thing to add to the list whenever I go see my weekly therapist.
IF YOU LIKE THIS ARTICLE PLEASE SHARE IT!! AND I LOVE COMMENTS SO PLEASE REMEMBER TO LEAVE ONE BELOW!
