1st off I need to develop a sense of fear. (Ain’t going to be a 2nd but I just like saying 1st off; I also like saying “and another thing” when I never said a first thing. Fight me). Being fearless is going to get me killed and I’mma tell you how. Gather around boys and girls it's Story time with JD. I’ve said this before but I’m going to say it again… I live in the hood. The real hood. Cool? Cool.
I’ve leave the house before God wakes up on Sunday mornings to roll into the office. There’s no birds chirping, it’s still pitch black; it’s an excellent setting for a Jason Voorhees Friday the 13th style killing to take place. There are no houses or buildings across the street from my apartment; just woods and shit; which coincidently makes it a great place for Jason to appear from or a young lady dressed in all black. So as I’m walking to my car a women dressed in all black emerges from the shady woods and walks towards me. “Can you give me a ride to Capitol Heights? I’ll give you gas money.” Sure strange lady that just materialized from the darkness at 445am on a Sunday. What’s the worst that can happen? This would be a great time for a sense of fear to kick in and I go skrt skrt down the street but instead the hole in my face says “How far is that like 10 15 mins away? Cool. Get in.” She hops in and smells as if she had bathed in a combination of all flavors of those Bath & Body Works scented lotions. So she smelled like a stripper at the beginning of her shift; you know, before she picks up the scent of Newport smoke, old men and VS Hennessey. I cracked my window a bit.
JD – Which way are we heading? Suitland Parkway? 495?
The Girl (of course I don’t her name and it’s too early for me to be clever) – Take Suitland Parkway towards Pennsylvania ave.
JD – Bet
The Girl – How much do you want for gas money?
JD – I’m good
The Girl – Thank you so much
And I pull off. I pretty much live with my JBL wireless headphones in my ear. Doesn’t matter if I’m listening to something or not they’re in my ears from the moment I walk out of the door until I come back home. If you’re a soft talker I probably won’t understand shit you’re saying. This is relevant because unbeknownst to me she in the passenger seat having a whole ass conversation as we’re cruising down Suitland Parkway. I hear the slightest murmur and look over to see her lips moving then I removed my right earbud.
JD – What’s up now? I didn’t hear anything you were saying.
The Girl – Nothing. Nothing. I just got a lot going on.
Obviously something is “going on” if you’re asking strangers for rides in the dead of night like Uber doesn’t exist; I almost switched into Dr. Phil mode then the voice in my head said “Bro don’t open Pandora’s box”. I slipped my earbud right back into my ear. Now out of my peripheral vision I keep seeing her lips moving. I’m trying to block it out and mind my fucking business but, nope, I cannot not see it. She is chopping it the fuck up with herself over there. Yep this bitch is crazy. Odds were already leaning towards insanity but this was the absolute confirmation. Then I felt her arm touching my arm on the armrest. My car is pretty fucking big. Somebody once called me from the back seat to turn down the AC, so there is no good reason for any unintentional physical contact. So in classic sucker ass nigga fashion I just scoot my arm away from her creating some space like I’m not the king of my own fucking domain. Then she put her hand on my forearm. By the way she’s still deeply involved in her conversation with herself. My tombstone would read “Here lies a nigga that was tripping” because she’s probably about to stab me in my neck, then grab the wheel and send us both to a fiery death. But since you’re reading this guess who still alive? Now she’s massaging my forearm working her way down to my hand. I instantly abandon the death possibly to a move directly over to “is she about to try to fuck me”. I pull away and redirected her attention because we had just reached the light at Forestville Road and Suitland Parkway.
JD – (Pointing) We going through the light straight out to Pennsylvania or am I going to hit this left?
The Girl – Uhh… Make the left
I put my arm back down on the armrest and before I can even make the turn she grabs it again pulling it over to her side of the car. Now I’m thinking if she tries to put my hand down her pants or her shirt I’m going to have to punch in the face. I don’t hit women but I think I’m in a flexible gray area here, you know, because I don’t want to catch herpes on my pointer finger. Forever unclean. I redirect her attention again and pull away again.
JD – Hey hey hey put on your seat belt shorty
She puts her seat belt on and got right back to it. Is this my life right now? Is this really happening? I really have to work on my not giving a fuck when it’s not my turn to give a fuck. Then it popped into my head “if I’m going to Capitol Heights why the fuck are we in Forestville. I pull my arm away again for seemingly the 70th time (it was the 3rd) and grabbed my phone.
JD – What’s the address?
The Girl – (mumbling) 444 Noma Ave
JD – What?
The Girl – (mumbling still) 1444 Noma Ave
JD – (I felt like I was asking her why she was left off of Bad and Boogie) Huh?
The Girl – 1447 Nova Ave
JD - Bet
I plugged the address into Waze and we were 7 minutes out from an address that was only 6 minutes away from my home to start with. She was back to caressing my hand and having the convo with herself and I had spent 20 minutes driving around with a crazy person in the passenger seat. We pulled up and she slowly and reluctantly let go of my hand then thanked me again. The entire time I hadn’t taken a solid look at her but when got out of the car I looked over and shorty was phatter than a motherfucker. But she was way crazier than she was phat so that was a dead issue. She walked in the house and pulled off. Luckily no masked gunmen arose from the shadows to relieve me of vehicle and life and shit. My hand still smells like baby stripper.
No good deed goes unpunished
Jean DeGrate needs to stop picking up strangers