"Do you love your guns? God? the Government?" ..-"fuck yea."
On February 17, this year, I was escorting Amanda to the bus stop. While waiting for the bus, I read her valentines gift to me. A book she designed and put together, filled with all our favorite lyrics, poems, images, characters, subjects, etc. As we were sitting there having our moment, A punk ass homey looking character walked up to see if we’d like to buy some drugs from him. I refused and then he began to throw cheap ass sales strategies I was once taught to use when I worked for G.C. industries selling Kirby vacuums. I told him that I recognized them and they won’t work cause I use to sell 2,000$ vacuums using similar cheap shots. Well it made more sense to me when he said “ME TOO!” …great, I thought. Also turned out that we even work for the same guy… Donny Jones. …. Fuck to myself as I try to think of who’s the sucker, here? All the while he still pushed on so I told him to fuck off…you’re ruining my moment with my girlfriend. …He responded understandingly and said that he can respect that…but he didn’t like to be told to fuck off. I said…well that’s just fine but I don’t like to be harassed while I’m with my girlfriend, so he’d better leave. Knowing his type (from my brother) I wasn’t surprised when he stayed …put down all his accessories and started saying shit to me to get me to fight him.
Now….people shouldn’t talk shit to me. I snap sometimes. I’ll stand my ground to anyone whenever I’m being harassed. If my enemy is obviously going to be the winner, then I’ll make sure he’s going to have a hard time winning. But this time…I didn’t do shit. I just sat there clutching Amanda’s book, while he said “Im gonna kill YOU, fuck your girlfriend, take your money.” …..I literally was boiling at this point. But I never even stood up. He walked away with his mouth still running and Amanda’s bus came later…
When I was walking home I was so pissed off. I kept looking behind me to see if he was there. Part of me was afraid…the other was anxious for violence. I never saw him again and I walked home kicking things in my way. My pride was bruised. I felt that Amanda might not feel safe around me because I was unable to defend her against threats. I felt that I was incapable of defense. I couldn’t calm down. I talked to Eli…but It made me frustrated. I played drums to get the anger out, and that helped….but I was still left with a bruise on my self confidence. I called my Dad. At first he wasn’t there so I was just taling with my mom and I told her a bit what happened, then my dad walked in the door, and he and I began to talk about it. I explain what happened and what I did and didn’t do, and how I feel…..like lesser of a man.
He finally spoke and told me that I was even more of a man now than I was before it happened. He said I was more of a man than that blockhead, because I was strong enough to avoid all that which could have gone so horribly wrong, I’m at home without a scratch. Amanda is home-safe, and he’s off bothering someone else. Dad said that the badger was probably so angry with himself that he’s just trying to pull other people down with him. I got Amanda, I got friends to care for and who look after me, I got family who loves me, I got books, Music, Art, knowledge…what does he have? Not much if he’s just walking up to strangers and asking them to buy drugs, and picking fights with them if they’re not interested.
We talked about an hour more about other deep things. My dad’s words sounded so great that they instantly picked me up and put me back on my feet. After an hour or so I decided to sit and read. Have some ice cream too. 4 hours later I’m talking to my moms panicking voice on the phone because my dad’s eyes are rolled back and he’s being rushed to the hospital.
As much as I hate that fucking punk ass that harassed me and Amanda at the bus stop, I need to say that if it weren’t for him….I wouldn’t have had that last conversation with my dad. As a result… his death would have hit me harder. It’s strange…. but I’m thankful. Dad was a strong man, who didn’t die out of pain, hate, sadness, or anything like that. He was in the house he built; with the woman he loved, surrounded by everything he needed. I’m proud of my dad. And I’m fixed on finishing a life to make him proud of me.
Ok. …off to home I go. Study study. Work work.