And You Can Call Me Curtis

I wasn’t going to speak on it but I pulled a Curtis last night. I ain’t joking around neither. Here’s what I relayed to my friend, “Man, I’m over here at Wes’, where you at? Okay. Yeah, but shit was crazy. Here I am walking out to my driveway bout to get in my car and head over to that Manhattan Loft with Inder. So I’m walking out and I see a few dudes huddling around this car—it’s the house in back of me, in the alley. One of the dudes sees me and I see him. He’s got a black tee, a dark fitted and a bandana around his mouth like this is the wild Wild West. I just act like nothing’s wrong; get in my car and turn on the engine and dip. A few blocks away I’m thinking like, fuck, they about steal the ride, should I call the cops or not? I usually wouldn’t have hesitated but I’m thinking maybe not because they saw me come out of my house and might be like “that fucking snitch, we’re going to fuck with his place now!” I surely didn’t want them to key my car or throw some rocks—this ain’t Palestine! But after thinking about it, I did call the cops—" My friend interjected and seriously asked, “What did you ask them? Hi, how you doin? It’s a nice day. Bye!” I responded in frustration, “Fuck you, man! I’m serious.” He quipped back, “Currrtiiisss! You tell them there’s a serial killer in 4E?”

Damn, I knew I set myself up for that one. I called the cops and was like, “I think someone’s ride’s about to be stolen. These 3 or 4 dudes were standing by this car and trying to open the door…” and they were asking all these questions trying to debunk my claims and shit. Why would I lie? I’m already extending my hand and because of 50 cent and Camron, I am “snitching”. But what I want to ask these dudes is like, how come you trying to steal a rusted up, ’91 aqua Buick LeSabre? C’mon, are things that bad? I know y’all think y’all are cool and probably are part of some gang. You would risk catching a case for a rust bucket? And my neighborhood is full of hippies—that car, most likely, runs off of vegetable oil or something. You’re going to be rolling around in a car that has “Kerry 04” and “Bush isn’t my president” bumper stickers on it!

But at the end of the day, I feel bad for even hesitating to call. Damn you Cam!!!