...Everything but a child of God

I am not a proponent of the use of the word ni**er in any fashion. To me calling someone a ni**er is like calling a girl a cunt. I don't believe that crap about reclaiming the word by changing the 'er' to 'a' and the idea that said change is the difference between good and bad. Bullshit. But I do believe, as so many have already said, written, and waxed philosophical, that there are definitely some n*gga's among us.

And this little muufucca, well...

He made me call him a n*gga. My 5'11, 225 pound, 23, and dumb-as-hell brother made me so angry that I called him a ni**a.

I swear he was raised by some wolves or something in the desert, cause the boy ain't got the sense God (with my parents as conduits)gave him. This little 'Jerry Springer Show' life that he is working so hard at reproducing, is out of control.

When he decided to pull me and my relatively drama-free existence (I worked hard at it y'all) into his bullshit? Man, the word started to prepare itself for take-off.

It all started when my brother's girlfriend managed to finally get them kicked out of their apartment. Since she is a loud, angry, foul-mouthed chick with a penchant for punching her fist through plate glass windows, it's not all that surprising. The cops have been called by the neighbors about her screaming at folks all day long, more than a few times. I should have kept going on my way to get frozen yogurt. But my brother wants me to swing through. So, I do. I get there and homegirl, not ten minutes after I get there, is trying to start beef with folks. She threatens to kick some girls ass who is walking down the street with my brother's friend. True Cleveland girl style, the girl comes charging up the stairs to kick the door in, and succeeds.

Great. Girl fight.

Not enough chaos for you? Well, here is some more. Landlord comes. Cops come. These fools gotta move within 24 hours. She goes to her crazy mama house and my brother comes home. And I think my prayer is answered. I start to foolishly think that my brother left this woman. This no-job, angry, bitter, smoked-out chick who is the epitome of the woman you sometimes have the pleasure to stand behind at the grocery store who has three bad ass kids and a cart full of bullshit (not one vegetable and every frozen processed thing you can find.), has finally been told to step.

I mean, damn. This particular moment alone helped accelerate the Shaker Heights version of "Jerry" to a new level of 'ignancy(*new* word). Honey, it ensured the receipt of the 'ignant-ass Grandprize. So cased closed...

Hecky naw! Walking away, well, that just doesn't make for good TV. The next day, Homegirl pulls the ultimate "bird" move. She calls my pop and tells her that Bro hit her (she had a black eye from getting in a fight with yet another girl a month ago...I was there post fight) and that she is pressing charges.

...then, two hours later, she calls my brother and asks him to take her downtown.


..the fuck? Set-up? Maybe. But it doesn't matter. 24 hours of "I'm done with her. Her ass is crazy." quickly turns into "Jonzee can you take "heifer" downtown, I gotta go to work. I'll pick her up."

Brewing.

Stewing. "I thought you were done with her. Her calling Pop wasn't enough?!"

Nothing. "Man, just do it for me. You going that way."

Pondering. "No"

Silence. "Why not"

Sighing. "Dude leave that girl alone, before yo' ass end up in jail on some bullshit."

Pause. "Why you gotta act like such a bitch?"

Thinking. Say whuh'! Have you lost your ever-loving mind? I know you did not just...

"...Ni**er you want to waste your time with that trifling ass heifer who is clearly using you and spending your money on bullshit for her wardrobe while you take care of her 3 kids each with a different damn daddy then little n**er, you do it. But fuck that, I'm not."

Click. Damn.