I Talk To Myself (Part 2)

Click Here For Part 1 of my conversation with myself.

Jamal and T. left the first cookout and hit the highway. The next cookout was in the middle of nowhere. The mixture of 93 degree weather and Hennessey and Cokes had Jamal tired. He thought about stopping home to change clothes, but T. wouldn’t allow it. He was well aware of Jamal’s tricks. The minute they hit the house, the fun would be over; Jamal would find a way to avoid leaving again. Besides, the food was so nasty at the first cookout that they were both looking forward to some good grub. With Mobb Deep’s “Infamous” album bumping and the AC blasting, Jamal made the 30 minute drive to his homey’s house in “We are the only Black people that live here”, GA.

T: Jamal, slow the whip down. You gonna get us a ticket.

Jamal: I got this. I’m only going 10 over the speed limit.

T: I ain’t even trying to mess with the police out here. Slow down, nigga!

As this internal discussion was taking place, the familiar flashing blue lights appeared behind the car. Jamal gazed in the rear view mirror and prepared to pull over. T. was right again. July 4th weekend was the wrong time to be speeding. Suddenly, the police car veered off into the next lane and sped off. Jamal was relieved, but T. was indignant.

T: I bet you listen to me next time. You was scared as hell, wasn’t you.

Jamal: Shut up, T.

T. Yeah, you was shook. That’s why you driving like you got Miss Daisy in the backseat right now.

Jamal: Shut up!!!

Around 9:15, Jamal pulled up to the house and saw a number of cars there that he didn’t recognize. T. thought only the usual suspects would be there, so he was happy at the prospect of some new blood. He convinced Jamal that he could pull another phone number by the end of the night. Jamal walked in the house and gave pounds to the crew. He spoke to the host and hostesse's mothers and then scanned the rest of the crib. T. articulated what both he and Jamal were thinking.

T: Hey. Where are the women?

Jamal: There aren’t any.

T: What the fuck? What about her?

Jamal: Nah, that’s E’s little sister. We can’t talk to her

T. Shit! Might as well get some food then.

Jamal made himself a plate with ribs, chicken, sausage and a hamburger. This was more like it. Just as he expected the food was delicious. He sat back with a Corona and watched a game of Triopoly which was already in progress. Jamal got a text message from Sexy Blogger Girl and excused himself to return the message. T. had something to say about that.

T: What the fuck are you doing?

Jamal: I’m bout to call Sexy Blogger Girl.

T: No, nigga! Don’t do that shit. You already out, just text her back. You got your peoples here. Besides, she probably out doing her thing anyway.

Jamal: Yeah, you right. Let me just text her back.

T. Make it quick, Jamal! I warned you about that anti social bullshit.

Jamal texted back and forth with Sexy Blogger Girl for a little while, then decided to rejoin the party. When he returned, it was time to shoot off some fireworks. While E loaded up the duffel bag with various firecrackers, Jamal stepped outside to smoke a Black with M. They then made the short dark walk around the corner to the park. Jamal noticed a couple of confederate flags and trucks with shotgun racks.

Jamal: T. You see that shit? These fools got Rebel flags flying out here.

T.: Yeah, I see it. Just keep your eyes open for some cats in white sheets.

Jamal: I know, right. Do you think it’s a good idea for us to be shooting off fireworks this late in the middle of LilyWhiteVille?

T: Hey, you just stay out of the way and let them do their thing.

Jamal: I hear ya. I’ll just stay back here in the cut. I can just see something going wrong. Remember Donald?

T. Donald? Nah, who’s that?

Jamal: He was the kid from elementary school that blew off his fingers with a firecracker. Walked around with a knub for the rest of his life.

T: Nah, I was just a baby then. I don’t remember that. But that’s all the more reason for you to keep your ass out of harm’s way. Just dial your cellie to 9-1- and wait for someone to mess up.

Jamal posted up on C’s Expedition and watched as E, M and C lit up the firecrackers. He pulled out the digital camera to get some shots, but it was too dark to focus. There were no working street lights and the only illumination came from the trucks headlights. Occasionally, Jamal heard rustling from behind him and turned quickly to look. There were other people in the park as well, but he couldn’t see them. It was like a scene from a horror movie, knowing that someone was there, but not knowing exactly where they were. Jamal decided to remain vigilant and held his empty bottle of Corona in an attack position, so he would be ready to crack the shit outta the first person who ran up on him in the dark.

The fireworks were mediocre, some of them turned out to be duds. The best part was watching the fellas scramble out of the way when one of the bottle rockets decided to shoot off sideways instead of up in the air. T. and Jamal shared a laugh at that. Just then, a car pulled up behind them, flashing those familiar blue lights. Somebody called the police on us. It was obvious to Jamal that it had to do with the fact that we were 10 Black people in a 99% white neighborhood. There were White people shooting off firecrackers that night too. But it wasn’t worth the fight. In Jamal’s mind, pointing out the racism to the cop was a bit of a fool’s errand. They still had to leave the park, might as well go back to the crib and have some fun. Although, sending 3 cop cars and a K9 unit was a bit of overkill. Jamal trekked back to the house having a conversation with his alter ego.

Jamal: You see why I stay in the house? I can’t go nowhere without some drama going down.

T: Don’t worry about. We gonna go back and play some cards, get some drinks and it’ll be all good again.

Jamal: I hope you right. I’ve seen this before. This is gonna turn into a bitch session about the cops. I know it.

T: Maybe, but you don’t have to participate. Just grab a drink and chill.

When they arrived back at the house, sure enough the racist cop conversation started. Jamal followed T.’s advice and didn’t contribute. One of the neighbors came over and decided to engage us in conversation about how having the police come so quickly was a good thing. Jamal took that as his queue to leave. He went back in the house and got another Corona and chilled. He decided to text Sexy Blogger Girl again and tell her what just went down. Eventually, everybody came back in the house and it was time to play some cards. The game was Texas Hold ‘Em. Jamal was by no means an expert at poker, but he was learning. He even won the first game, cleaning everybody out with a straight. Arrogant T. attempted to take a picture of all his chips, but the rest of the crew wasn’t going for that.

Jamal: It’s about that time, T. Let’s be out.

T. Nah, lets play one more game.

Jamal: Its almost 1 AM. How long you trying to stay out here?

T. Just a little while longer. I’m trying to keep you out of the house.

Jamal: If we leave now, then we can hit up the Blue Flame and see some strippers.

T: You know I’m all for that, but you don’t wanna fool with Bankhead tonight. The cops are out heavy.

Jamal: Aiight. One more game and then we bounce.

Jamal played another game, but this time he was the first one busted after intentionally making a foolish raise with a pair of 6’s. By this time, he was just ready to go home. He had enough socializing for one day. He said his goodbyes and left with a nice take home plate. On the way home, he had a final conversation with T.

T: You had fun didn’t you? What I tell you?

Jamal: Yeah, it was cool.

T. You need to get your ass outta the house more often. Can’t be sitting around all the damn time.

Jamal: Yeah, I hear you. But sometimes I just don’t feel like being bothered.

T: I’m gonna give you Sunday to chill, but the rest of the week you gotta do something.

Jamal: Da fuck? How the hell you gonna be making demands like that? If I don’t wanna go, I aint gonna go!

T: Well, let’s make a deal. At least every other day, you go out.

Jamal: I can live with that. Aiight, son! You got a deal. But now I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up for the rest of the night. Peace yourself out, T.

T: Whatever, nigga you need me!

T. and Jamal pulled up to the crib and pimped toward the door. T. was still talking shit in Jamal's ear. Jamal took out his keys and opened the door, ignoring T.'s bravado. He quickly slammed the door in T.'s face, locking him outside.

T: Hey, man! Let me in!

Jamal: Nah, nigga! This is my domain.

T: Oh, its like that?!?

Jamal: Its like that, son. I'll call you when I need you.

It was written...