The Omen

Maybe I should've ordered something else just to get a different total.

This is a story. A story of sacrifice and redemption. A story fathers should tell sons and sons should ignore, mainly because life would become boring if people didn't repeat mistakes like this one.

Meli, my young protege, is trying to hold it down in Nebraska of all places. Her great new gig is in the rottenest of places, but she's maintaining. She and I are in similar situations, both from Detroit and separated from our 'hood roots. She's 25, so I think she might be coping better than I am, seeing as I'm more set in my ways.

She's been cyber-dating, which is something the youngsters seem to enjoy these days, along with their MW-8 players and their rock and roll, which is fine by me. I mean, who am I to judge? So anyways, as I was saying, Meli picked herself up a feller offa the cybernet and he began a courtin' and whatnot.

This guy is a young, successful Black man, making goo-gobs of loot, in this dearth of Black success known as Nebraska. So she's happy and they decide to go out on a date.

He's mad young, just like she is, so his conversation tends to be lacking. Like he's pretty self centered and seems to have some sort of hetero-crush on his frat brothers, judging by the way he talks about them. But she kinda likes the feller, so she lets it slide. (This is the sacrifice part.)

Two days later, this cat calls her at midnight. For all y'all that pay attention, this is one hour past the Booty Call Parallax. He then leaves a text that says "I miss you, I want to see you." Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, she doesn't see it for hours later because she's sleeping. She's awakened by the next text he sends at 2:30 am. "I'd really like to see you tonight." He's buggin' she thought, and returned to sleep. At 5:00 am Meli is awakened again, as he sends her picture mail. It's a picture of himself, lest she forget. She is highly irritated at this point. When looking at the picture, incredulously, she sees her phone number at the bottom along with 4 other phone numbers. This arrogant asshole has slipped up. He sent the same thing to 4 other chicks, hoping one would respond the right way. It's the oldest trick in the book, the ol' "buckshot method", used by wanna be playas and Dick Cheney.

She calls him right then and there. "African, you done fucked up! You have fucked up this time, dude. " He's talking, he's backing up, fast talking and shit. "Please let me explain." She stands firm and hangs up on him, contemplating whether or not to give this heads up to these other chicks.

So, she does what any intelligent, distressed, bosomy woman would do: call Big Zed for advice.

"Listen, Meli, don't call them chicks. Just let that cat stew in his juices. He's shook, you don't have to do any more."

He called her again and begged her to see him just for a minute so he could explain. She gave this dude a window. "You can come over, but I might not let you in." "OK, I'll take my chances. I'll be over in an hour."

I talked to her on the phone as she tried to figure out what she was going to do with him. I had to kick her off the phone before he got there, because I had business of my own to handle...with the TV.

As I was cocooning, watching The Wire, I get a text message. "Zed, I called those other chicks and gave them the 411 on ol' dude. He's done. Finished!" (That's the redemption part.)

Peace,
KZ

*UPDATE: I left out an important part. He said he'd be over in an hour and he never showed, thus pissing her the fuck off even more.*