Dance Dance Megamix
I play it for the workout!
tube top? Not my fault!
The Mating Dance of the North American Smeagol...
This was awhile ago, I was still in high school, but thinking about Smeagol dredges up painful memories sometimes.
We were on our way to Smeagol's job, Smeagol JJ and I, to get Smeagol's check so he could pay his car payment so the car dealership would turn his car back on. We were standing on the corner of 39th and Troost, before it is the clean bustling Mega-Metro stop it is today, when it was still busy, but only because of the people getting robbed whilst waiting on the bus.
There is an unwritten code when you are waiting on the bus in the hood if you are a guy, much like there is a code if you are at a urinal, like never go in there and pat the guy's ass who is standing at the urinal next to you; keep that shits on the field yo. Anyway here are the iron clad rules:
1. Do not talk to anyone standing up by the bus schedule. They are embarrassed and are standing there trying to pretend they do not know the bus schedule, like they do not ride the bus.
2. Do not take your shoes off and curl up on the fucking bench and try to "catch a quick snooze" while waiting on the bus, especially during the summer when there are a lot of people watching you.
3. Do not get on a cell phone and start talking about all the money you got, then ask people around you to help you make up the 85 cent fare.
4. NEVER, EVER fucking dance to the music emanating from a car at the stop light. More points are deducted based on what kind of music it is:
Country - -10
Rock\ Metal - -20
Rap - -100
Disco - +30 for some reason...
alternative - automatic beatdown
5. Do not ask anyone for a "slurp of whatever you got there", or ask for a "nibble" on whatever someone else is eating, especially if that is a dude and more especially if you have no idea who that asshole is.
You will never guess which rules Smeagol broke while we were waiting on the bus. JJ and I were following all the rules: we were standing by the bus schedule, a slight scowl for the inconvenience, and trying to make it obvious we had a car, we were just going to pick it up. It was known we did not have a car, but the polite smiles showed us this was protocol and people would deal with it.
Smeagol makes a beeline for the little covered bench, takes his ratty ass shoes off, curls up like a dead cockroach and tries to "catch a little snooze while we wait"... to whom he was talking I am not sure, JJ and I looked the other way and pretended we did not know him. Finally his flatulence annoyed some of the other patrons, as well as the fact that he was taking up pretty much the whole bench and some older lady was making it obvious she wanted to sit down, so he reluctantly got up, put his shoes on and joined us on the corner.
And then it happened.
A homeboy in a mid 70s Monte Carlo pulls up to the light, blaring out Tech N9ne, this was int eh early days when he was still underground, a local guy who enjoyed making the rap tunes. JJ and I looked at each other, and then at Smeagol, who was jittering just a tiny bit, and silently tried to will him not to do what he always did when he heard any kind of music.
It didn't work.
Smeagol broke into full Carlton-meets-Elaine from Seinfeld as he did this kind of seizure-meets-bees in the shirt dance, kind of making this weird hooting sound as he hopped from foot to foot, not unlike what a raptor would sound like probably. JJ tried to reprimand him, telling him to "fuckin' quit that shit", and Smeagol's grin got even wider, the failure emanating from his mouth like the Americans taking the Ardenne at the Battle of the Bulge: unstoppable, a raging force that destroyed all it touched, draping us all in a coat of fragrant halitosis and kim chi.
The guy looked over, and then looked right at JJ, who was still foolishly showing everyone he knew Smeagol by trying to stop him from dancing, failing miserably as Smeagol's claws kept him at bay, I tell you the only way it would have been worse was if Mystery was there, clapping off beat, or if Smeagol had been in his thong, holding one side up as he jittered around like a crackhead who has gone cold turkey.
Tomorrow: Scam time or Greyskull? You choose!
I am trying to get JJ to come up and do the baby no stories, I might just get him to tape them and post that, and soon to come, the Throbbin Rob Chronicles: what happens when 2 immature jerks start writing a novel? You can ask Haggard, he read it, but I will start posting those as well... in chapter format. Don't worry, the chapters are actually a little shorter than my posts appear to be getting... also no takers for the videos by bombaytv? They're free ya'll! Come on, free lunch on the Stevester! Assuming you choose that over a date with Smeagol and/ or Mystery, butt pleasures included (I am not kidding, if you win and want a date with either one of them I will arrange it.)... send em in yo!