|2 Rodeo Burgers, a nigga named Eye Patch, a hint of Racism
||[29 Jul 2008|07:39pm]
So I'm at Burger King today, living up to my standard of good health, when suddenly a busted ass suburban pulls up along side me and who do I see inside but some hood nigga with an eye patch. Oh, but this is no ordinary eye patch, my friend. This eye patch is not a patch at all; but rather a miniature, gold 'spinner', perhaps the size of a quarter, covering his eye. He begins to motion for me to roll down my window.
Typically, I like to toy with hood niggas at red lights and such so long as it is broad daylight, in a primarily white area, and I am not outnumbered.
SIDE NOTE: Last week, I was at a light alongside a brotha in a work van which read "SPICILIZING IN:" above a list of 'spicilities'. Of course, I must point this out and he proceeds to scream me some bullshit story of illiteracy-denial.
But back to my boy, Patch. He was motioning for me to roll down my window and I, not being in a cheery mood, refused to roll down my window. After moments of persistance, he finally called to me, "Is it broken?"
"Sure", I called back having given up on the notion that he could understand the universal hand-gesture for 'manual window', "its broken."
He began making another gesture; this one not-so universal. I was puzzled by this gesture and didn't really care what it meant. After a moment, he began calling something to me which I now can recognize as the word 'eyebrows' but at the time, seemed completely nonsensible.
He then threw me the universal "Gimme a Second" gesture and being stuck in a drive-thru as I was, perhaps seemed to be 'giving him a second'. He pulled out his wallet and opened it, revealing something rather crinkled-looking and, by my assumption, potentially misspelled. Where the clear, plastic ID compartment is found, I instead was shown his mighty bidnezz card; pressed firmly and proudly against my window.
It read, "Hair Styles and Eyebrows by: Eye Patch". Seizing the moment, as I often do, I lept at the opportunity to obtain such a card for myself. Not surprisingly, "It's the only one". "Oh...", I called back through my passenger window, "I do my own brows."
As I pulled around Burger King, he broke free of the drive-thru line which he had veared into, ahead of me, and I watched the busted suburban roll away. I found myself left in wild wonder.
Where did Eye Patch come from? Where was he going? Did he spot my magnificent eyebrows from the highway? Was he merely trying to compliment me? Did he see a photo-opportunity for portfolio, using my God-given perfect arches as a cheap ploy to attract his fellow heathen hoes to his services? Was he out 'in the field' for the day, marketing his supposed skill? Did this one eyed man truly expect me to be interested in him coming near me with sharp objects, even a non-threatening object such as tweezers? Perhaps. But more than likely, Eye Patch was either going to rob me, attempt to sell me some shitty drugs, or ask for my number and when do I "have friends". Either way, his true intentions will forever remain a mystery.