I leave work late. I'm a night owl and I get my wind at night. Tonight was my last night working for the week, I trekked to China One, then straight to the most well-lit bus stop in the area. It's one of the very few precautions I can take in this town.
Both ear buds in my ears, to drown out the sounds of the night, and to drown out the sounds of any passers-by attempting to start convo... which happens more often than not.
So Big Black Fat Fat Bastid walks up and just starts talking. Non-stop. He must have smelled my Chinese food.
Baseball cap, polo and big ol' jeans with no belt (that's important later). I take out my headphones, he makes convo, he's nice, very pleasant, and very large. He invites me to his R&B show at the Café around the corner. I ask him to tell me more. He serenades me with all the wrong lyrics to Johnny Gill's My My My (something about positions and per-froom). I know he's just pretending to be tone deaf. I laugh and we exchange numbers.
WTF. Really? What have I just done?
His lisp appears out of nowhere, as if it just escaped his innards and came tumbling out his teeth. Then he's wheezing, "clapping his knees" and talking about his new job at the barbershop.
As a janitor.
I wish I was lying. I admire men who can cut hair. I just think it's a special talent. Getting a man's hair to look perfect, with a perfect lining ain't easy. But like I said... he's just the hair-sweeper-upper.
He brags about how he mentors younger kids, and tells them there's a better life for them out there. Tells them to stay in school and do their best. Question though... who is mentoring YOUR ponkass, sir? Who?
He decides he will buy me things... as soon as his first check comes in. Mostly donuts and pizza, if I remember correctly. He must be howngree. Then he goes on to agree that I cook so well.
Bewilderment.
He asks about the bus schedule, which is really beginning to worry me now, because said bus is severely late, and I reeeeally wanna go home, as my food is getting cold, Wendell is starting to frighten me, and I'm getting eaten up by a family of bugs. They are landing on my phone, my britches, my arms... and Fat Fat Bastid is sitting next to me with his entire belly exposed from the titty to the undergut. His belly is literally sitting on his lap, and the bugs aren't bothering him. Not even the bugs are that damned howngree.
Do not want.
Cliff's Notes:
His phone is lost. Call his mama's phone and ask for him.
I met his "brother". 5-foot-nothing, Caucasian teenager. Shaped like a packing box.
Wendell's hair has two fades. I can't explain it. One was dark. Other was darker.
He belched a lot. Maybe five times and never said "pardon me" once.
I was invited out for coffee, donuts and a long walk on the 'beach'.
He asked outright if I was a "single mom".
Without awaiting a reply, we became a couple.
There are no fuckin' beaches around here.
He called a friend to give ME a ride home. Said we could "double date".
(That friend hung up in his face).
We rode the same bus home. I was afraid I was being stalked.
Someone on the bus recognized him. He has friends! Can't be all bad, right?
I asked his last name, he told me "Courtney Wendell Big Swag Freestyle 27.
Sweddagawd. Verbatim.
Eventually, I realized he was unstable. Mentally and every whicha way, unstable.
He talked the entire ride, just mumbling, even with my earbuds on.
"Don't make no plans Saturday. I'm coming over. Cook me some soul food."
He also said to me: "Call my mama cell for me & tell her I'm on my way home".
He got off 3 stops before me. When he stood up, his pants fell OFF.
Yes, I saw all 3 miles wide of his big, black, balls-dangling ASS as he went to pull em up.
This is my karma. This is a direct repayment for something I did to someone else. Acknowledging that, I immediately contacted that person and apologized.
Tell you what...
I am SO done with muthafuckin' mingling.
