When I woke up from the coma I saw a familiar face, my nanny, then a face that wasn’t so familiar, nor pleasant, my mother’s. She had the same rosey red cheeks, and curly, frizzy hair. She had the same frosty grass green eyes, but with busted red veins surrounding them, and a glossy film coating them, which wasn’t from tears of the very near death of her own daughter. My mother had on black pants, a black plain tee shirt, and an oversized black corteroid material jacket with a music pin tilted diagonally on the right-hand collar of the jacket, it was my fathers. She also wore silver chain with a pistol hanging downwards with hearts spilling from the nose of the gun.
“Hey hun, how’s my baby doing?” my nanny said caressing my hair with deep uncomfortable eye contact. I ignored her and stared at my mother, whom I haven’t seen for days. She walked to the side of my bed and put took off her chained gun and placed it around my neck, kissed my forehead and turned around and walked out.
“She’ll be back, tell me how you’re feeling” the nanny pried.
“I’m hungry, is Mommy getting me food?”
“I don’t know honey, I don’t know. You hit you’re her head really hard but the doctor said you’ll be ok when you wake up, do you understand?”
“Can we get a piano?”
“HA you really did hit your head hard missy, no one knows how to play the piano, well besides your fath--- no one knows how to play the piano.”
“I do”
“Don’t be silly”
The doctor entered, he had a huge mustache seems malnourished and seemed so old he could drop dead any minute. “Hello there, little lady.” He walked over and checked my pulse, flashed a flash light in my eyes, and checked the 10 stitches on the left side of my temple.
“You’re looking good I think we can get you home today,” he turns to the nanny “just keep her on her meds and make sure she gets plenty of rest and she’ll be fine.” He took on last glance at me, smiled, and walked out.
“Alrighty lets get you home”
My dad had a room filled with fibers (to fill pillows and make blankets.) And non of us ( him and his three brothers and one sister) were allowed to go in there. And my dad bought us a cat, and each of us had the responsibility to take care of her per week. So it was my week to watch her and after about two days I got tiered of doing it. I decided to just put her in the fiber room so I could go out and play with my friends. Before I knew it a few hours turned into a couple of days and we all figured the cat had ran away. I forgot all about her. The twist was one day my dad woke up because we kept hearing crazy screeching noises from the fiber room. My dad woke us up at like one in the morning and went down to the street to the church, and I remember this so clearly because the pastor was walking up the street with a gun! (LOL) My dad lead him into the house and towards the fiber room and at the moment I remembered the cat was in there! The pastor opened the door; gun pointed inside the room and before he could do anything the cat jumped on his and started scratching and going crazy! We were all laughing so hard, I will never forget that."
We've been friends since the seventh grade and despite going to different high schools, we've still been think as thieves, a phrase which with us means, spending countless hours laughing over nothing and talking about everything. Remember when we watched sister act and the old nun said, "I can drive anything on wheels, is that a problem" And we laughed the rest of that night and still laugh about it today, Now whenever we joke about anything, no matter how irrelevant, you always say,"you know what my niggs, don't try and play me cause I can drive anything on wheels, it just better not be a problem"
of course!
and dance? (not that kinda dance. Like diddy dance.)
naw I wont diddy dance for nothing
lol no?
like mo money mo problems. harmless stuff!
nope. I just sit in a chair and rap
a queen chair? a throne?
nope just a regular old chair. maybe I'll even sit on the step.
oh you cant be in my video no more. you too cool...
Dear Duane,
Sorry I sounded weird last night, but the parental units were right there. Dad was in his chair and Mom was on the sofa—both sitting as far from each other as they could while still being in the same room. They’re doing the not-talking thing again. It keeps me busy.
Dad: Justin, would you please tell your mother she’s being paranoid?
Me: Dad says lighten up Mom.
Mom: Justin, please inform your father he’s a liar.
Me: This is so lame, would you guys just talk to each other?
Remember those conversations that you were in the middle of? Now all you have to do is march around and shoot guns. Want to trade? I better go; Mrs. Perez is giving me the eye like she suspects I’m not doing algebra.
Adios and hasty banana.
Your suffering brother,
Justin
P.S. The units are both off work. Mom said she needed a mental health day but I bet it’s backfiring. All that will be left are two pairs of empty shoes with smoke coming out of them by the time I get home.
