iNSOMNiA Bloggert Style

The Diplomat

I came across this guys story while venturing throughout the internet. It's a great story about being in the hood. I couldn't resist sharing it with all of you. Check it out.


I have a dream. Not a dream like Martin Luther the King, but a dream nonetheless. It's a simple dream because I'm a simple man. My dream consists of one thing and one thing only: Having a safe, friendly, cozy environment to purchase the Devils Weed. If there was such a place, I wouldn't have to pussyfoot around in the ghettos of North Texas.

Recently, my day started off with a phone call telling me that the weed house would be closed for the day because the crack house down the street had mysteriously burned down and the block was hot. Real fucking mystery, I'm sure. To keep me from having to spend anymore time than absolutely necessary looking for the only thing that will keep me from falling into a Level 2 Bipolar episode, I decided to hit the sleaziest, slimiest, dirt bag filled place I know.

The Car Wash.

Why is it, that most car washes are so goddamned shady? I don't like to frequent the place in question because it's always only a matter of time before some shit goes down, but fuck it, there I went anyway. I jumped in car #2 which is kept just barely running for situations like this one. Like the majority of cars at this car wash, #2 sports a set of rims far more expensive than the cost of the entire car. But when in Rome, do as the Romans.

I turn the corner and immediately get hit up with gang signs. What the fuck? I hadn't even parked and already motherfuckers are mean mugging. The car wash is a lot like Tarrant County Jail (so I've heard), with all the races off in their own little sections with very little intermingling between any two groups. I pull in and find an open bay to park in, a money spot. Immediately, the smell of the good green ganja lingering in the air hit my nose. Fuck yeah, I thought. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a sack and get the fuck out before the first cop's even start making their rounds in the area.

I decide to hit my Mexican brothers up first. It's kinda weird, none of these fucking assholes have a job, but yet each one of them has thousands of dollars worth of hydraulic equipment in their cars. I spot a motherfucker I know from around the way and ask:

"Hey homes, where's the green at?" His response:
"Say, I thought you said you were gonna let me paint your car?"
"Nah dog, you know I'm scared you're gonna put some big ass Virgin Mary or some shit on my hood."
"Orale, that's fucked up kid, I dunno about the weed, my cousin Creeper said he was coming through with an elbow but the shits already hot ese, some fucking mayate already got his ass kicked earlier." I reply,
"Yeah, well hopefully he creeps his ass up here in a hurry, ay." And he says,
"Eh homes, you can hit this pinner for now, ay."

Fuck, strike one. I take a hit and continue on my mission. I look towards the end of the lot where the brothas are hanging and walk my big ass toward a group shooting dice. A shirtless ass-hole with his pants barely hanging well below his ass starts talking.

"Whatcha need cuz?"
"Some smoke, what's the word?" He says,
"Ahh, all I got is that snow but my man suppose to be rolling up here with some dro but we're still waiting, you can hit this blunt if you want cuz."

Some dro? Yeah the fuck right. I wasn't holding my breath waiting on some brotha with hydro, I hit the blunt. Strike two, and all these motherfuckers just waiting around for different people to get some dope to the spot. The only bright spot in the entire area was a group of the most slutty ghetto bitches anyone of us will ever see. You know the type, sluts with blond hair and brown roots, wearing a half pound of eye liner, tube tops and short ass shorts with their thong showing. The best part, I knew one of them.

"What's up girl? Damn! When you gonna let me hit?" She responds while pointing at one of her fat friends:
"I wouldn't fuck you with her pussy." I was not impressed.
"Shit, I'd rock that fat bitch's world. Where's the weed at?"
"We're waiting for (insert baby daddy name here), but you can hit this one hitter if you want."

So now, I've got a nice little buzz going and I was running out of people to ask and tension was building up, motherfuckers wearing their colors, throwing up bullshit signs and starting to talk loud. More and more were starting to loiter in the lot and no sign of anybody trying to sell weed. The first patrol cars make their rounds, slowly cruising the car wash, not really fucking with anyone in particular but making their presence known. Since they got me on paper, paranoia immediately starts kicking in. I decide to move my car to the grocery store parking lot down the street. On my way back I thought to myself that something was sure to go down, and I would end up with shit out of the deal.

That's when I spotted all the Chinesed hanging around their nitrous filled Hondas with all their bullshit stickers. I see this one asshole who calls himself Sun. I always ask the fuckhead if it's because he shines like one, but the asshole always misses the Wu-Tang reference. I bet he'd get it if I quoted Buddah or some shit, but he always has what you need.

"Yo kid, I need an O Z." His reply:
"You know the deal, 6-5 son."

Finally, I got my shit, now I can get the fuck out before some shit goes down. Just as I was getting back to my car I heard the distinct sound I'd been waiting for all day. Something like pop, pop. Pause. Pop, pop, pop. Gun shots ringing out near the car wash, as usual. Still paranoid, and not wanting my car to be seen driving away from anywhere near the area, I ducked into the grocery store and spent the next hour and half kicking some kids asses at Street Fighter II. What? It's the hood, what game do you think they have, Golden Tee 2005 or some shit?

On the way home I thought about my dream and how great it would be not to have to spend the better part of my day talking ebonics with a bunch of fuckers who probably violate the terms of my probation just by being in my presence.

The fucked up part is that I spent 2 hours at a fucking car wash and my car is still dirty but hey, at least I'm high.

Mission Accomplished

This was this guy named Pat. All I got to say is I'm glad I don't do this sort of shit.

posted by iNSOMNiA @ 5/06/2005 01:17:00 PM