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El Misinformed El Misinformed
by MBa
2014-06-07 11:46:28
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It all started in the Library stairway where I met this Greek-American thug yelling into his cell phone. I was eating peanut butter sandwich underneath a “don’t eat, don’t drink”. He popped an ecstasy pill, his evasive green eyes turning to me for a chat and next thing I know, I find myself letting into my place someone who would upset my social life and had me starring in my own ‘survival of the fitted’ episode.

mba02_400

I let this long hair homeboy stay with me at my place until he figures out his marital problems. His Brazilian wife and him were killing each other. Not that he could leave her, for she was capable of sexual positions he never thought possible. Some Argentinian, Venezuelan tourists staying with me warned me against this new acquaintance but I put it down as prejudice because of his rapper-thuggish look. Looking back, I know mine friends animosity came from hearing their nationality and color of skin strip from them as he talked. Homeboy complained not finding Afro-Caribbean bros and sis in his online searches about Latin American events videos. “ The Spanish conquerors were European” the tourists friends snapped back. I had to tell them that it wasn’t this guy fault that, a 1970 census, the media and East coast interest groups made this labeling a requirement for people speaking Spanish to apply and qualify for anything in this country. “We come in beautiful black, beautiful white, indigenous brown and the mix-up of all” a black skin Puerto Rican born guy put in, his massive hand fanning around the room. I remember homeboy confusion as the Mediterranean-looking Argentinian, the blond Venezuelan and the Indigenous-looking Ecuadorian pulled out a rainbow color chart, playing a game of looking for a color called Hispanic while singing a salsa music song that calls out the name of the countries in the whole America continent, musing that there was no one country called Hispania. Homeboy whispered he never heard all these info from the Puerto Rican he grew up with. “You mean New York Rican and some Americanized foreigners; by the way these People FROM LATIN AMERICA were just educating you, no hate in that” I added, imploring my friends to stop being shady with his ass with my best Mother Teresa of Calcutta stare.

From my part I was flattered with the attention this poor soul gave me. Homeboy was very excited with me and would mimic everything I did. The two New York Rican lesbians from the apartment next door said they believed homeboy was “in the closet and has a crush on you.” After they break down what “in the closet” meant, I voiced my doubt for I noticed some local folks misinterpret male bounding with the Down low behavior is well known among the thugs “ Cock tease him and you will see him getting aroused” the manly of the lesbian suggested. They bet me two bags of their own homegrown weed or twenty dollars.

One day, with the lesbians hiding in the closet (no pun intended), I had this punk and me dressed up with the Brazilian flag speedos for Ju-jitsu my wife at that time had sent me and we hit the floor wrestling.  Our café late contrasting body glimmering with sweat, I then blow the fume of a make-believe magic hot tea into his mouth, which ended in a casual kiss. I looked down to his crotch; though his manhood seemed bigger than my nine inches he barely got aroused. Soon after that, homeboy left high as kite to see his bitch after popping an ecstasy. I called out the neighbors and staffed my twenty dollars in my speedos for he was no gay. 

This dude was no match for this street-savvy illegal immigrant-chick who was getting the green card plus a full time sex-slave in one shot. (You got to love immigrants’ survival skills.) So into his woman he was, that not long after he came back threatening me. That chick, no liking the influence I was having in her sex-toy-boy, got into his head that we were doing shit on his back. After a loud argument he disappeared from my life.

mba01_400_01He contacted me couple of years afterward, he “wanted to chill in the city, and who else to do so than with my free spirit nigga,” his e-mail claimed. Problem is, when I see danger I don’t run away from it, I let it get to me. “The rappers-thugs should worry almost no one.” I would explain to clean-cut professionals who met with me in my favorite Albanian cafe on Arthur Ave. I would argue that it was the nerdy looking folks, who tend to be potential psychos, whom we should watch-out for. Well, I should have practiced my own advice when I let this shadowy creature into my place to spend the night.

When I got up from my bed where I sleep naked, he was standing around stabbing himself with a toy arrowhead until I could see red dots. I grew up with Ascetics Catholics putting pain on themselves to discipline the flesh, you think Mr. Eminem here was gonna impress me? I saw his eye’s change, using the typical psycho intimidation techniques he expected me to run in fear!

What did I do instead? I stood up into an elegant pose, took an empty bottle, uncapped it, and began to urinate inside.  This enraged him enough to prevent him from acting in cold blood like a good psycho. Turning red he completely lost control and jumped on me, with one hand grabbing the bottle. Like a good third world man, I swung back and forth splashing the contents of the bottle all over the two of us. His straight hair absorbed most of the urine. His hands went around my neck, and I kept swinging using my body weight to drag him over to the kitchen, screaming, “That’s all you can do?” through his chocking grip. I grabbed for the doorknob to open and then everything went dark.

When my vision clears up again I am on the house porch, a bucket in my hand, looking sideway to an astonished neighbor two houses to my left. I look toward the house’s door glass panel and see the wacko impassive face peering out. The survival instinct made me shout for him that the cops would be dropping in anytime. He burst out of the door; passing by me and like Frankenstein and is gone. The cops come of course when all the fun is over.

The ambulance came for me, and took me to the hospital. After a few hours I leave the hospital. I let go of the haunting memories from my moments of near death. But, “where am I?” my inquiring eyes ask in silence. I fall into a walking rhythm while stretching my neck and arms, taking in my environment.

There are Mexican Indigenous, Albanian, Slavic and Dominican women pushing baby strollers while shopping. I keep finding Black American teen and adults standing around corners eyeing with curiosity as Dominican guys make flirt with girls passing by, while making fun of each other one minute and embracing the next in the male bounding that some North American guys feel insecure to display. I see throngs of students spilling out of Fordham College walking in all directions. I hear and brush past a rich mix of cultures. I keep on walking, Wherever these throngs are going I find my feet going, for I am tired of running alone. 

 


    
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Murray Hunter2014-06-07 12:38:33
Welcome to OVI


Leah Sellers2014-06-08 18:46:01
Wow ! Welcome to Ovi !


MBa2014-06-10 19:42:30
Murray Hunter, I appreciate taking the time to comment in my first of many pieces to come. I am founded interesting that in your most recent book you speak of 'opportunity' as strategy rather than the firm, for I have been thinking in opportunity as a concept and topic for one of my writings. Hopefully I learn much about it from you. Ciao


MBa2014-06-10 19:55:52
Leah Sellers, first of all thanks for reading and commenting my first of a series of pieces to be published with the Ovi family. You will surprise to know that 1- " please don't shoot me dead, bully boy" from your ' Infidelities of the Infidels' reminded me of me writing something about a character dealing with bully boys/men and asking them not to shoot him

2-By reading your "Are you still looking" I also realized with a smile that I have refer to the moon in many writings and to pebble as a title for one story in the making
3- your "where are my teeth" have me totally fascinated


alex jorge 2014-06-28 01:19:31
woow a story keep me in suspense, anxious, and super entertaining. super job agusto, keep it up. And pls let me know of your next one. After all i may turning the passion of reading in me.


dee2016-05-24 21:03:56
I really enjoy your story, the story kept pulling me in, as my phones are ringing at work. I try to read it really fast to see what's going to happen next. I must say great peace of writing, I give 2thumbs up, and 5 star... keep up the good work man .


Fitzgerald Providence2018-05-03 23:01:32
A very interesting story. I had no idea where it was going until the end. The author description of his environment was excellent. I felt like I was fighting for my life.


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