WARNING: the following material is explicit and contains words that are naughty and some of them rude or offensive. Just telling the story as it actually HAPPENED. These aren't in my words, these are just the facts of what happened. Enjoy yet another true story of Story Time with Thibodeaux. I know it's been way too long.
We got outta the car after parking it at our friend's place. Because fuck paying for parking downtown. Luckily we both love walking and it was only a thirty or forty minute walk to the venue. We both shut our door and he reaches his hand for me so we can cross the street and head up the hill. We both hear some obnoxious mumble of words and turn around to see who it was coming from.
Just some tall, black gent talking on the phone or something, makin his way loudly down the sidewalk. We look both ways before crossing and the words are a little louder and prominent behind us, "Yeah you don't belong here. Go back home where you came from, you damn foreigners,"
Both of us thinkin the same thing. Eh, some crackhead readin license plates, because ours are Mississippi plates still. We start to cross the street and a little louder into his phone and obviously directed for us to hear, the guy goes a little further with it, "Yeah some fuckin Uncle Tom. Motha fuckin nigga and his raggedy bitch..."
It was like slow motion. I already felt the small hairs on the back of my neck raise up as I tried to reach for his arm to calm him but he was already marching back across the road to the man, "EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME SIR!"
Oh fuck. Here we go.
"Please! It's not that big of a deal! He's a crackhead!" I yelled after him, cars buzzing between us as I'm waiting to safely cross the road and watch mortified at what storm is already brewin on the other side.
"Excuse me! You will not call her a bitch again!"
"Well you a bitch too."
"That's fine, you can call me whatever you want but you will not disrespect her"
"You girl is a raggedy bit-"
and right as I was getting over there, before the man got the last word out completely, fists were already flying. "STOP IT! STOP IT!" I was yelling. I had no idea what to do. This was by far the dumbest thing ever. But it comes with the territory, dating a hot head. I'm not even talking about myself. Superman's glasses and watch go flying and before the men could step on his accessories, I go walking around the fight picking them up before they get ruined. Wallet goes flying, and I grab that too.
"Fucking stop it! You look like morons! Fuck, we got shit to do tonight!" I have no idea what to do, given Superman's background, I'm not keen on calling the police. In the past I've broken up stupid fist fights but they were between guys I knew. I didn't know this old ratchet from Adam's housecat, and if he didn't hesitate to beef with a man, I knew sure as hell he wouldn't have any problem layin hands on me. I look across the street at my friend's house and call him. No answer. Probably wasn't off work yet. Fuck fuck fuck.
"I'm calling the police!" I bluff. At this point, Superman had gotten this man in a choke hold.
Let's back the fuck up. Superman is all but about 5'6" and 160 lbs on a good day when he's had his Wheaties. This crackhead is easily about 6'2" and 240 lbs after a good healthy shit. How the hell you gonna get this Jolly Giant in a damn choke hold?
Damn ninja status, that's how. While pacing and watching this little piffy spat, I think back to the Mortal Combat games and how they would duck left and right then strike with ease. This was like a real life video game. Little ninja had skills.
"That's enough," Superman says to him, still holding from behind. Behind the both of them was a big concrete wall. It was about a six foot tall wall that stood at the front of all the residential houses on that street and concrete steps up to the doors at the top of each grass hill behind said wall. The boozy crackhead then slammed Superman into the concrete wall. This is when I was getting really pissed.
See. In an hour I had my first comedy performance in Seattle. Of course this would happen on said day. I'd been worried all day about what story I'd tell, what would be considered "too much" for this crowd, and now I had no worries at all. At this point I gave up on the idea of going. Police would take forever filing this shit.
In the mens' tussle, Ol' Man Butternuts had gotten Superman on the steps using dead weight against him. I was still screaming at them, "Fucking stop it! God for fucking bid! FUCK!"
Then that moment came, ladies. That ride-or-die moment. It's like I was seeing American History X all over again. I saw that man try to force Superman's head between the steps, Superman putting up a strong fight, but the man had all his weight into it. I felt it rise up inside of me. That moment where the lioness eats a hyena to protect her cubs. That moment where the goose plucks your fuckin eyes out for fuckin with her gaggle. That moment when a big summbitch is about to stomp out your man.
I had to do something. I had to.
Kick.
All that pent up anger and frustration from the year bundled into one foot. As if God lay all his strength is my big toe and the light shone down upon the glory hole of whence my foot shalt land.
WHAM. And as if he were an eight year old boy that just got told there was no Easter bunny, his puppy had cancer, and he was adopted all in one sentence, the man looked up at me with sheer pain, emptiness, and horror in his eyes. With no mercy, I began screaming scripture at him,
"I HAVE A CLEAR SHOT TO YOUR BALLS MOTHERFUCKER AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN! GET THE FUCK OFF HIM! YOU'RE DONE! YOU'RE FUCKING DONE YOU ASSHOLE!"
With the same blank stare and emptiness in his eyes, he nodded slightly, "okay, okay," and he eased off Superman, who lifted his head and held the man up with his arms. No sooner than stepping back and thinking the moment was over, Ol' Man Sugartits thought he could fake out Superman and went to swing with a right hook. He missed and punched concrete and Superman lunged forward again, getting the man off him.
By this time I'd already called the police, the gal asking me what was happening.
Do you know either of the men?
"Yes! One is my fucking boyfriend! We just moved here!"
What's the address?
I give her the address as I'm looking at the house number above.
Ma'am that's an invalid address.
"I'M FUCKING STARING AT THE HOUSE NUMBER WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
Ma'am please try to stay calm.
"Yes ma'am, I realize, but I'd really like this to FUCKING STOP!" Half screaming at the guys again.
We're sending responders. Do either of the men have weapons?
"No, just their," and I start laughing a little, "just their fucking fists."
This is all just so ridiculous. I hang up the phone and a moment later Superman is standing again with the man in the same choke hold, this time he pushes the man away and he stumbles forward. The man turns to run after Superman again and I stand between them. "Fucking stop it you asshole! Enough! You hear that? the police are coming! Back the fuck off!"
Sure enough there were the sirens. It was at that moment, we notice all the people standing around and a couple cars that had pulled over. I start laughing, thinking I'll be on Worldstar Hip Hop as the crazy white bitch kickin balls and shit. We walk toward our car at the end of the block and Crackhead McGruff takes off in the opposite direction.
I look at Superman and he has blood on his sleeve, "Baby," I point, and as if this man hadn't just been in a brawl, shrieks like a little punk, "Ewwwwwahhh!!" and Strips off his argyle sweater. I check his head and his arms. Other than some concrete scrapes on his elbows, he's pretty clean. There was a cut on his head but not big enough to make the blood that was on his sleeve. I look back at Jonny Crackpipe hobbling down the sidewalk and just shake my head with a smile.
One vehicle pulls up and already I feel it in my gut. See, I don't exactly have the greatest track record with police either. I don't have a record. But I've definitely had more than my fair share of run ins with police. We don't really get along. "You the one that made the call in?"
*POOF! INSTANT WHITE GIRL, I CHOOSE YOU!*
"Yes sir, I'm sorry about yelling at your dispatcher, I wasn't mad at her, just upset at the situation."
"I understand, are you one of thee guys that was in the fight?"
"Yes, officer, he took off that way," he pointed down the block behind him, "we were on our way to Capitol Hill tonight and he was talkin all kinds of crazy. Luckily I know how to defend myself, I have no idea what could have happened if it were someone else." He and I exchanged glances as the officer took notes. "So this guy is on foot?" He talks into his radio, and the other responder that pulled up behind him races down the block.
"Are you alright? We have an ambulance that can get you checked out. It's free." The officer looked at Superman with a caring look in his eye. "No, no really I'm fine." "What are you to doin out tonight?" Superman was the first to speak up. "She has a performance tonight, actually. We were on our way there."
"Oh that's cool. I could give you a ride if you wanted."
We exchange looks at each other again and I'm smiling ear to ear, "No way."
"Sure thing." He looks to Superman, who nods and insist he get a shirt and jeans from his car to change into.
The cop asks my name and I give it to him and asks for Superman's as well. We load up into the vehicle and the cop keeps talkin, "So once we catch this guy, did you wanna press charges or anything?"
Superman shakes his head, "No that won't be necessary, he didn't really get good hits on me, he was just heavy and reeked of alcohol." "I'm glad you folks are okay." And all the while I'm laughin my ass off. The cop smiles at me in the rearview mirror, "Hysteria, call it hysteria. I'll be okay." This guy just has no idea who he picked up.
He takes us straight to the bar I'd be performing at. We thank him and shake his hand, both of us impressed that we actually dealt with a cool cop.
"Man you know that's some bullshit though," he smiled at me.
"You think so?"
"Hell yeah! You know damn good and well if it was just me and him, we'd both be sittin in jail right now. Throw some helpless little white girl in the mix and they respond within seconds and offer to take you to where you're going!" He side hugs me tight as we walk up to the bar, I mock, "Help me, help me, I'm defenseless and my boyfriend's gone bad! Help! Help!"
To be continued. It was just really nice to finally write this all out.
We got outta the car after parking it at our friend's place. Because fuck paying for parking downtown. Luckily we both love walking and it was only a thirty or forty minute walk to the venue. We both shut our door and he reaches his hand for me so we can cross the street and head up the hill. We both hear some obnoxious mumble of words and turn around to see who it was coming from.
Just some tall, black gent talking on the phone or something, makin his way loudly down the sidewalk. We look both ways before crossing and the words are a little louder and prominent behind us, "Yeah you don't belong here. Go back home where you came from, you damn foreigners,"
Both of us thinkin the same thing. Eh, some crackhead readin license plates, because ours are Mississippi plates still. We start to cross the street and a little louder into his phone and obviously directed for us to hear, the guy goes a little further with it, "Yeah some fuckin Uncle Tom. Motha fuckin nigga and his raggedy bitch..."
It was like slow motion. I already felt the small hairs on the back of my neck raise up as I tried to reach for his arm to calm him but he was already marching back across the road to the man, "EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME SIR!"
Oh fuck. Here we go.
"Please! It's not that big of a deal! He's a crackhead!" I yelled after him, cars buzzing between us as I'm waiting to safely cross the road and watch mortified at what storm is already brewin on the other side.
"Excuse me! You will not call her a bitch again!"
"Well you a bitch too."
"That's fine, you can call me whatever you want but you will not disrespect her"
"You girl is a raggedy bit-"
and right as I was getting over there, before the man got the last word out completely, fists were already flying. "STOP IT! STOP IT!" I was yelling. I had no idea what to do. This was by far the dumbest thing ever. But it comes with the territory, dating a hot head. I'm not even talking about myself. Superman's glasses and watch go flying and before the men could step on his accessories, I go walking around the fight picking them up before they get ruined. Wallet goes flying, and I grab that too.
"Fucking stop it! You look like morons! Fuck, we got shit to do tonight!" I have no idea what to do, given Superman's background, I'm not keen on calling the police. In the past I've broken up stupid fist fights but they were between guys I knew. I didn't know this old ratchet from Adam's housecat, and if he didn't hesitate to beef with a man, I knew sure as hell he wouldn't have any problem layin hands on me. I look across the street at my friend's house and call him. No answer. Probably wasn't off work yet. Fuck fuck fuck.
"I'm calling the police!" I bluff. At this point, Superman had gotten this man in a choke hold.
Let's back the fuck up. Superman is all but about 5'6" and 160 lbs on a good day when he's had his Wheaties. This crackhead is easily about 6'2" and 240 lbs after a good healthy shit. How the hell you gonna get this Jolly Giant in a damn choke hold?
Damn ninja status, that's how. While pacing and watching this little piffy spat, I think back to the Mortal Combat games and how they would duck left and right then strike with ease. This was like a real life video game. Little ninja had skills.
"That's enough," Superman says to him, still holding from behind. Behind the both of them was a big concrete wall. It was about a six foot tall wall that stood at the front of all the residential houses on that street and concrete steps up to the doors at the top of each grass hill behind said wall. The boozy crackhead then slammed Superman into the concrete wall. This is when I was getting really pissed.
See. In an hour I had my first comedy performance in Seattle. Of course this would happen on said day. I'd been worried all day about what story I'd tell, what would be considered "too much" for this crowd, and now I had no worries at all. At this point I gave up on the idea of going. Police would take forever filing this shit.
In the mens' tussle, Ol' Man Butternuts had gotten Superman on the steps using dead weight against him. I was still screaming at them, "Fucking stop it! God for fucking bid! FUCK!"
Then that moment came, ladies. That ride-or-die moment. It's like I was seeing American History X all over again. I saw that man try to force Superman's head between the steps, Superman putting up a strong fight, but the man had all his weight into it. I felt it rise up inside of me. That moment where the lioness eats a hyena to protect her cubs. That moment where the goose plucks your fuckin eyes out for fuckin with her gaggle. That moment when a big summbitch is about to stomp out your man.
I had to do something. I had to.
Kick.
All that pent up anger and frustration from the year bundled into one foot. As if God lay all his strength is my big toe and the light shone down upon the glory hole of whence my foot shalt land.
WHAM. And as if he were an eight year old boy that just got told there was no Easter bunny, his puppy had cancer, and he was adopted all in one sentence, the man looked up at me with sheer pain, emptiness, and horror in his eyes. With no mercy, I began screaming scripture at him,
"I HAVE A CLEAR SHOT TO YOUR BALLS MOTHERFUCKER AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN! GET THE FUCK OFF HIM! YOU'RE DONE! YOU'RE FUCKING DONE YOU ASSHOLE!"
With the same blank stare and emptiness in his eyes, he nodded slightly, "okay, okay," and he eased off Superman, who lifted his head and held the man up with his arms. No sooner than stepping back and thinking the moment was over, Ol' Man Sugartits thought he could fake out Superman and went to swing with a right hook. He missed and punched concrete and Superman lunged forward again, getting the man off him.
By this time I'd already called the police, the gal asking me what was happening.
Do you know either of the men?
"Yes! One is my fucking boyfriend! We just moved here!"
What's the address?
I give her the address as I'm looking at the house number above.
Ma'am that's an invalid address.
"I'M FUCKING STARING AT THE HOUSE NUMBER WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
Ma'am please try to stay calm.
"Yes ma'am, I realize, but I'd really like this to FUCKING STOP!" Half screaming at the guys again.
We're sending responders. Do either of the men have weapons?
"No, just their," and I start laughing a little, "just their fucking fists."
This is all just so ridiculous. I hang up the phone and a moment later Superman is standing again with the man in the same choke hold, this time he pushes the man away and he stumbles forward. The man turns to run after Superman again and I stand between them. "Fucking stop it you asshole! Enough! You hear that? the police are coming! Back the fuck off!"
Sure enough there were the sirens. It was at that moment, we notice all the people standing around and a couple cars that had pulled over. I start laughing, thinking I'll be on Worldstar Hip Hop as the crazy white bitch kickin balls and shit. We walk toward our car at the end of the block and Crackhead McGruff takes off in the opposite direction.
I look at Superman and he has blood on his sleeve, "Baby," I point, and as if this man hadn't just been in a brawl, shrieks like a little punk, "Ewwwwwahhh!!" and Strips off his argyle sweater. I check his head and his arms. Other than some concrete scrapes on his elbows, he's pretty clean. There was a cut on his head but not big enough to make the blood that was on his sleeve. I look back at Jonny Crackpipe hobbling down the sidewalk and just shake my head with a smile.
One vehicle pulls up and already I feel it in my gut. See, I don't exactly have the greatest track record with police either. I don't have a record. But I've definitely had more than my fair share of run ins with police. We don't really get along. "You the one that made the call in?"
*POOF! INSTANT WHITE GIRL, I CHOOSE YOU!*
"Yes sir, I'm sorry about yelling at your dispatcher, I wasn't mad at her, just upset at the situation."
"I understand, are you one of thee guys that was in the fight?"
"Yes, officer, he took off that way," he pointed down the block behind him, "we were on our way to Capitol Hill tonight and he was talkin all kinds of crazy. Luckily I know how to defend myself, I have no idea what could have happened if it were someone else." He and I exchanged glances as the officer took notes. "So this guy is on foot?" He talks into his radio, and the other responder that pulled up behind him races down the block.
"Are you alright? We have an ambulance that can get you checked out. It's free." The officer looked at Superman with a caring look in his eye. "No, no really I'm fine." "What are you to doin out tonight?" Superman was the first to speak up. "She has a performance tonight, actually. We were on our way there."
"Oh that's cool. I could give you a ride if you wanted."
We exchange looks at each other again and I'm smiling ear to ear, "No way."
"Sure thing." He looks to Superman, who nods and insist he get a shirt and jeans from his car to change into.
The cop asks my name and I give it to him and asks for Superman's as well. We load up into the vehicle and the cop keeps talkin, "So once we catch this guy, did you wanna press charges or anything?"
Superman shakes his head, "No that won't be necessary, he didn't really get good hits on me, he was just heavy and reeked of alcohol." "I'm glad you folks are okay." And all the while I'm laughin my ass off. The cop smiles at me in the rearview mirror, "Hysteria, call it hysteria. I'll be okay." This guy just has no idea who he picked up.
He takes us straight to the bar I'd be performing at. We thank him and shake his hand, both of us impressed that we actually dealt with a cool cop.
"Man you know that's some bullshit though," he smiled at me.
"You think so?"
"Hell yeah! You know damn good and well if it was just me and him, we'd both be sittin in jail right now. Throw some helpless little white girl in the mix and they respond within seconds and offer to take you to where you're going!" He side hugs me tight as we walk up to the bar, I mock, "Help me, help me, I'm defenseless and my boyfriend's gone bad! Help! Help!"
To be continued. It was just really nice to finally write this all out.
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