The Chronicles of The Black Pack – Pt. 6
A couple of things – this was written when I wrote the Chronicles last year, but for some reason I never posted the finish. Also, this story should be nominated for the 2010 Black Weblog Awards for Best Blog Post Series. Send them this particular post because I’m linking the other 5 parts right here. Enjoy the finish (and what hopefully will be turned into a novel for the future!) of the Chronicles of The Black Pack.
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When you deal with the fellas, there are plenty of events that can happen, which includes having sex with someone’s unknown girlfriend. You could get piss drunk and puke all over someone’s house. You could even ruin someone’s wedding by being the biggest asshole on the planet because you don’t like who they’re marrying. But for every one of those types of events, you get the events where you get in a fight and you have backup. When you can borrow 15 bucks because you don’t get paid for 3 weeks and need gas money. When two guys pay for a broken coffee table because they fought over the biggest chance happening since when my cousin won the lotto, all this and more can and probably does happen. The fact is, we all have each other’s backs, like an extra part to our spinal cords. I didn’t have to worry about James and Andre getting cool again – James got over it because they weren’t exclusive at that point and knew Andre didn’t mean it, and Andre understood how James felt and admitted he probably would’ve taken a swing if he’d been in the same position. Petty squabbles happen – they happen to any group of people if you stick them around long enough. My kids at school fight over who should be using the glue, for God’s sake. I’ve heard of people in jail fighting over the titty magazines. Conflict happens.
Rob loves to tell the story of how he and I got into it back in college because I took his girl. It was an accident, but it turned out to make us better friends because he came after me, not unlike how James did Andre, and we fought until we both were just too tired. He looked over at me, panting, and said, “This is exactly how you look 10 minutes into fuckin’ with Nadia, isn’t it?” And all I could do was laugh. There was nothing else left to do but laugh, because we just kicked each other’s ass for no good reason.
A lot of stuff happens for no good reason. But meeting the fellas, nah that happened for a good reason. But before Rob starts yelling about me needing to turn on Waiting to Exhale and get a good cry while eating some chocolate, I’ll say this: Every single time I’ve needed to talk some shit, get something off of my chest, or just relax and shoot the breeze about anything – I’ve known exactly where I could go.
“Man, you went berserk when you hit me. I thought you’d gone alien or somethin’, like Lilo and Stitch.” Andre leaned back in the chair, laughing about what’d recently happened. “You’re lucky I didn’t Barry Bonds you and break your legs with a baseball bat, ha!” James got a good laugh in about it too, and Rob and I chuckled about it all. We were in Andre’s place (I told them they can’t come over to my place if they’re drinking; my furniture is worth too much to me), and Rob said, “Ok, I should tell y’all something. I’ve been talking to this girl for a few weeks, and – oh, her name is Brittany and she works for a PR firm and doesn’t hit the gym, just so we’re all clear – and…damn I can’t believe this, but…” James finally had his chance to beat Rob to the punch. “Go on and grab Gone With The Wind and pop some popcorn and cry your eyes out because I know what you’re about to say – you can’t find a damn thing wrong with her, can you?” All four of us started laughing our asses off. Rob, still laughing, exclaimed, “I hate when you’re right, James. There’s nothing wrong with her at all. This is brand new territory for yours truly, and I’m ready to see what’s on the landscape, you know?” I put my beer up in the air and sighed. “Well, another one bites the dust. Welcome to the club.” As we toasted, Rob’s phone buzzed and he looked down puzzled. “Brittany just texted me, ‘we need to talk. R u busy?’ Damn, already? It better not be no sneak attack, ‘it’s yours’ type of shit.” We all tried to give him a little bit of advice, but hey – if things turned sour we’d be getting the call tonight.
It turned out she wanted help getting her mom a birthday present. Rob almost messed it up, being defensive and aggressive with her when they met up. But that’s another story, I’d rather let Rob tell it…
End of The Chronicles of the Black Pack
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July 13, 2010 Posted by Mr. Philosopher | Stories | Black people, Chronicles, cursing, fellas, friends, hookup, men, sex, short story, story, women | 4 Comments
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While I wish I had a t-shirt that said “Best in the World” and had my name on it, it’d be too gaudy for me. But truly, I believe I am the best in the world at what I do. What do I do? You’re reading it. This is a very problematic world, but we don’t always see problems so easily. Perhaps we forget about them on purpose to make it easier to live or we’re not even aware that an issue exists but what I do is bring issues to light as only I can. Breaking down concepts and ideas seems to be my gift, but I’m also pretty “ignant,” and that’s tough to deny. Put it all together and you’ll get the thoughts, rants, essays, and stories of Mr. Philosopher: The Ignant Intellectual.
MA in Philosophy, U. Memphis – 2011. Morehouse Man, c/o ’09. I’ve written articles for the Black College Wire, the Morehouse Maroon Tiger, presented my philosophical work at a couple of conferences, have been spotlighted by the Daily Helmsman (U. of Memphis campus paper) and am always available to do articles/guest blog posts/etc.
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