My husband and I don’t get to spend much quality time together. Our lives are just not in sync. He works, eats, sleeps and watches House. That pretty much sums up his daily routine. So it is a rare weekend that we spend it doing something together that doesn’t involve me yelling or him wearing the same green work clothes he wears all week. This past Sunday we did the next best thing…we combined my love for shopping and his love for…well, greasy stuff. We went to get my oil changed en route to a Family Dollar. The Jiffy Lube we went to was closed. Against my better judgement we drove a little further and found Jiffy Lube In The Hood. It was a combination Oil Change/Mini-Mart/CarWash and place to chill and hang with the homies. I pulled my Dodge in behind the Lexus and BMX that were already on line. My husband got out and wanted to see how long it would take for an oil change. I just wanted to see how long it would take to back out of here. Forget Family Dollar….I can do without another laundry basket or whimsical mug I don't need.
The brothers were chillin’ on the Mini Mart steps and were conversing about how long it takes to get your bail money back. One hoodie announced the ‘next’ time I gets busted I is gonna use Big Mac’s bail guy. And that I’m afraid to say, is a direct quote. I am assuming the Big Mac he speaks of does not come on a sesame seed roll. The door of the Lexus opened and the longest set of female legs I have ever seen in my life emerged….and was followed by a body that made me feel like I wasn’t even the same gender. She had a face that could make a blind man cringe, however I doubt anyone, including my husband saw her face or even looked up that far. She strutted over to the guy in the BMW, snapped her 3 inch manicured nails, swiveled her neck and proclaimed….”I’m gonna $%#* you up if you keep following me.” The driver of the BMW stayed within the confines of his limo-tinted windows either out of arrogance or fear. I was betting on the latter at this point. She walked over to the Mini Mart, passed the bail boys and into the store. It felt like I was in an MTV music video and Beyonce was gonna come strolling out from the mini mart with Jay-Z holding her $3000 purse. (I’d like to see the homies screw with Jay-Z.) The BMW passenger door opened and an Eminem look alike got out. OK truthfully he looked nothing like Eminem, but he was white and gangster, wore his pants half way down his ass and I am sure he could rap. He flicked a cigarette toward the homies and they all stood at once. Good God I am parked smack dab in the middle of a gang war. And I was wearing RED!! I imagined how I would lay down on the seat in the event gunfire erupted. I imagined how I would explain getting grazed by a bullet at Jiffy Lube to my co-workers. I imagined me killing my husband for putting me in this situation in the first place. Where was he anyway?
The homies and Eminem bumped shoulders, shook hands, called each other nigger as my husband finally materialized from the garage bay. The BMW driver still hadn’t emerged and ‘stilt girl’ was on her way out of the Mini Mart and heading straight for him. Eminem and the homies made some lewd comment as she passed them on her way out that she completely ignored. My husband, still deciphering the price chart on the wall had no idea what was about to happen. I locked the doors. I rolled up the windows. I shut the radio. I was in full alert mode. If something was gonna happen, it wasn’t gonna happen to me. Mr. Wonderful out there would have to fend for himself.
Just as the ‘stilt girl’ arrived at the BMW she turned and looked right at me. Not just a glance, a head turning, you-didn’t-see-a-damn-thing…look at me. Me. Minding my business in my Dodge. A potential witness perhaps. Did I pay my life insurance? Did I pay his…because if we get out of here in one piece I am gonna be one wealthy widow after I kill him.
Stilt girl, carrying a can of soda that I hadn’t seen until now, was walking towards my car. Oh God. I put the car in reverse with my foot on the brake just in case I had to make a quick exit. She stopped about two feet from the front of my car, popped the top of the soda and launched it at the BMX. The can hissing and spitting soda landed on the trunk of the car. The homies burst into jeers. Stilt girl stood silent and still. And I pretty much peed myself.
The BMW door started to open and of course now my husband was on his way back to the car. He had no idea that within moments the BMW car door would fly open and Stilt Girl guts would be all over my Dodge hood. I practiced my laying on the seat move and realized that I would never get low enough to avoid a stray shot so I motioned to my husband to hurry up. He strolled toward the car and I saw the BMW door open wider and Stilt Girl moving toward it. This is gonna be get bad. My car door opened and without actually getting in my husband starts telling me about filters and proofing oil and I screamed in my best whisper so Stilt Girl couldn’t hear…get in the car there is going to be a fight. What??? A fight, there is gonna be a fight, get in the car. What fight? GET IN THE CAR BEFORE WE GET SHOT, OK????? He got in the car and before his door was even closed I backed out of the Jiffy Lube and into traffic. I have no idea what happened to the girl. I don’t know who was in the BMW and if he was following Stilt Girl to begin with. I have no clue if the homies ended up needing Big Mac’s guy and I never went to Family Dollar.
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