Crackheads Say The Darndest Things

September 6th, 2008

BIRMINGHAM-  How'd you spend your Labor Day last week? I spent mine BBQ hopping in Birmingham.  I can honestly say that I'm blessed to have a vast array of friends. Most everyone I'm cool with in Birmingham came from the same humble beginnings as me. We all grew up in West Birmingham and all know what it means to struggle.

This is the common thread between all of us. Not matter who you are, no matter what your occupation is, it means jack shit to your friends and family.  They see you for who you really are…just you.  It doesn't matter if you're a comedian, fire fighter, Police officer, whatever, none of that means anything  in the presence of those who know you. You're just you.

 And that's truly beautiful.

 Where else can a grown man admit to crying in the middle of his own bachelor party because he was thinking about his wife and not the chicks in the room.  This can only happen among friends. (* I hate that I missed that. I was stuck in London that week. That would've been a helluva blog*)

 Where else can a Jefferson County Sherriff's Deputy talk about when a suspect takes off on foot, how he stands there for 30-45 seconds complaining about having to chase them before actually chasing them.  

 Kind of like in 'Shaft' when Samuel L. Jackson told the suspect. "Don't make me chase you!"

 This can only happen among friends.

 Where else other than among friends can a fire fighter admit to saving three lives during a swift water rescue in the Warrior River and then as News Crews pull up to interview everyone, shove a gym sock into his tight ass wet suit so that everyone watching at home will think that fire fighters have big dicks?

 "Man they didn't even show it. They zoomed in on my face," he said.

 Hilarious.

 Days like this are probably a big reason why I'll never truly feel at home in L.A. Because it isn't my home. There isn't a bar or house party in L.A. that can compare to sitting on the back porch of someone's house sipping sweet Tea, getting mosquito bites, and eating good BBQ.  I almost look at L.A. as an extended road trip. The only reason I got an Apartment is because it was cheaper than a hotel.

 The most eventful part of the evening happened here at my home girl "Pistol Whip's" house.  (*we call her that because her last boyfriend she caught him in the movies with another woman and well…she pistol whipped him. Right there in the middle of 'Barbershop 2' *)

 Anyway, Pistol Whip and her boyfriend A.J. invited me over to chill at their spot late that evening. So here I am at 1am in the morning in one of the worst parts of Birmingham (*Tuscaloosa Ave*) sitting on a front porch drinking a beer with some old friends from the neighborhood.

 As I sit down beside the Grill I notice this.  

 If you don't notice it, then please do look again.

 In the cup holder of the Lawn chair you will notice the butt of a 10-shot 9mm automatic hand gun. When a gun is out in the open you can't help but notice it and you have to comment on it. So I ask A.J. , why he had a gun out his reply was simply…

 "In case them hurricane niggas come up the block"

 If you recall the landfall of Hurricane Gustav in coincided w/ Labor Day weekend so there was a great deal of evacuees from New Orleans in Birmingham that weekend.

 Three years ago during Hurricane Katrina there was a spike of crime in the Birmingham area as some of the evacuees left the civic center and came to the hood fighting for drug turf. Pistol Whip had her front door kicked in by some people supposedly from New Orleans and she hasn't been the same since. There was a spike in crime in many cities that harbored Katrina Evacuees. Damn shame that these bad apples made it through the storm.

 So this time around A.J. and Pistol Whip were prepared for anything that could arise. Anyone that came down the street A.J. ran to his lawn chair and pulls his gun. I'm not sure if the man anticipated Gustav evacuees coming down the street like a damn Michael Jackson Thriller Video but there he was, standing proud with 10 rounds of black talon ammo looking like Ving Rhames in Night of the Living Dead.

Everything's all good for about an hour or so and then a strange silhouette emerges from a back alley. A.J. grabs his gun and then Pistol Whip does some sort of Angelina Jolie in 'Wanted' type shit and is lying down underneath the BBQ grill with her gun pointed at the shadow.

 It was funny, and scary but by far the most gleaming example of true love that I've seen in a long time.  True love is being shoulder to shoulder with your man during a shoot out. I'm kind of sad that I didn't have a gun, because then we could've looked all cool like the Charlie's Angel's logo.

The female in the alley see's what's happening less that 100 yards away from her and INSTANTLY starts to cursing.  

"OH!! Ohhh!!!! You muthafuckas gone pull a gun on me? !!!  really? ME!!  AFTER ALL I DONE DID FOR YOU NO GOOD BASTARDS!  A GUN!!!!" She screams.

 Pistol Whip notices the voice and lowers her gun. "Oh, that's just Beverly, neighborhood geek monster (crack head)"

 A.J. goes back to grilling like nothing has happened but Beverly won't let it go.

"NAW!! DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME WHEN I'm TALKING TO YOU !! THIS SHIT AINT OVER!! YOU MUTHAFUCKAS PULLED A GUN ON ME!! YOU BETTA BE GLAD I AINT GOT MY SHIT ON ME, I"D BLAST YO MUTHAFUCKIN ASS OFF THAT PORCH AND THEN TAKE TWO OF THEM HOT DOGS YA'LL GRILLING.  I AINT LETTIN THIS SHIT SLIDE! IMMA BE BACK OVER HERE TOMORROW NIGHT AT 6 O'CLOCK."

 This is when I lost it. "Be back over here at 6:00"?  Really? I mean really? Who the hell schedules a shoot out for the next day like it's a dental appointment? I laughed for 2 hours off of that nonsense.

 BEVERLY

Imma be back over here at 6 !

 ME

6 is no good, how about 7:15?

 BEV

Nahh I got a stabbing at 8pm

 ME

Hmmm, well I got another shoot out at 10 on the East side. Maybe next Wednesday?

 BEV

(*checks her blackberry*)  Wednesday? mmmm how about 9am?

 ME

9am it is.

Crack Heads say the dardndest things.  This type of stuff never happens in Los Angeles.

 Wood, Jr.