Baby Tigers and African Weed

Tonight was off the chain. I am SO glad I decided to take my butt out the house. Where to start?


First: The Club. So we all decide to go out and that means going to the only spot poppin' in the 'Ville on Saturdays - The Outback. It was the regular fun, lots of dancing, talking shit and folks drinking. Both the football and basketball teams had games today and both of them won. So folks are feeling good. Nothing unusual happens in the club, except this ex-basketball player from our school hits the hell out of this guy and literally makes his eye bleed. Understandably the guy was pissed, but what can he do? Fight back with only half his vision and a pounding headache? So he took that loss like a man and shot the basketball player an "I.O.U" with his eyes. After the club was the usual parking lot pimping with everybody trying to figure out where the afterparty will be. Finally, after a few hit and misses at different houses we end up at:

Number 2: The Africans' House. I'm a little pissed that we end up here since one of the damn Africans has been hawking me all night, I actually gave him my real number just because I know he's not the stalking type and he's actually a cool guy - as long as he's not trying to get with me. But apparently this is where the afterparty is, so we go. Well, we are there literally no longer than 15 minutes when the cops come and tell everybody "Alright, flush the weed and get out". WTF? Weed? There were probably only 20 of us in the house, dancing and lounging around. So the cops come in the house, saying they have "probable cause" to search since they can "smell the weed". Now, one of the guys who lives there does smoke but he wasn't doing it while the "afterparty" was going on. No one was smoking anything but black and milds and cigarettes. So we step outside, argue with the cops a bit, then finally sit in the car to see what they will do. They tear the house the fuck up. Looking above the cabinets, full search of every room and dismantling of all the furniture. Finally, they find what they are looking for. We see them go downstairs to the weedsmoker's room and we know it's a wrap. They suddenly, after a little talk with the weed guy, they leave. We go back inside ready to resume the party. Just as soon as we really get settled, here come the muthafuckin po's again! We burn the hell out, standing all on the lawn. The police bust open the door without saying shit, go back down to the room, and then walk back out. We questioned them about what the problem was now and finally one says "an officer forgot his phone". Bitch!! You coulda said that shit instead of busting all in the place and storming back down into someone's private domain. After the police leave for good, we talk to this weedsmoker and he tells us that they found his shit and took it and told him next time his ass was theirs. We laughed at him and told him that basically the cops just took him for some free weed and that the real reason they came back was because they forgot the rolling papers so they could smoke it. During our mini comedy session on him, two guys walk into his house. One guy - we'll call him Dumbass for the sake of indentity protection, starts to walk right back into the living room. The Africans' stop him and ask what the hell he is looking for in their house. After a lot of mumbling, Dumbass finally sputters out the fact that he accidentally "dropped" his weed box when the cops came and now he was coming back to get it. Think about that - who in they right mind drops some incriminating shit in someone else's house, knowing damn well who will get pinned for it, and then comes back expecting it to be there? Hence his name. That is like a criminal dropping his weapon in someone's car, running and then going right to the police lot to say "hey, I think i left my tec 9 in evidence car number 64545, you think I could get that?" Just doesn't make sense. So of course, Dumbass and Dumber get gone off on and told that if they ever show their faces again, they won't recognize themselves the next time they look in the mirror. All blood drained out of their faces and they turned into some straight "yes massa's". "We understand" , "I'm so so sorry", "I didn't mean to...", and finally they just shut the fuck up and powerwalked away. Well, at this time it's only me, my girl Cynthia and my girl Jamie left with all the Africans. Somehow, two of the Africans grab me and Jamie and hold us hostage for about 30 minutes of dancing. Finally, we get to leave with the excuse that I'm Jamie's designated driver and I need Cynthia to follow me to take Jamie home so that I can have a ride. It was the truth, but damn if them Africans didn't try to poke holes in our story like a groupie in an NBA star's condom. Pissing me the hell off. You are not my damn daddy, stop trying to make me answer to you. If I want to go, I'm going to go. No, I DO NOT want to spend the night, because if I did, I wouldn't be trying to leave. Duh.

Third: The Street. Cynthia parked kinda far away from the Africans' house so we had to drive her to her car. On the way, she keeps talking about some damn big ass racoon she saw on the way. She swears it was taking a nap on somebody's car, just chilling. Of course, we don't believe her, so she takes us by the spot and believe it or not, that bastard was still there. Now, I dont know how many of you have seen a big ass COUNTRY racoon, but those bastards are like 120 times bigger than the ones you see as roadkill on the highways in cities. These bitches are like the size of a baby tiger. FUCKING HUGE. This raccon took up like 1/2 of the windshield of this girl's car. We park in the middle of the street and decide that we must wake it up. What better way to do it than to throw something at it? So we start hurlings gum tins, mint containers, sticks and whatever else we can find at this creature. It doesn't move, perhaps due to the fact that with our girlie aim, we never come close to hitting it. Finally, two white guys walk up the street and we are estatic. YES!!! I mentioned their race only because we all know white folks are adventerous when it comes to nature shit. Further proof? How many white people do you see on the "When Animals Attack" videos? Now compare that to the number of minorities you see. Get a ratio something like 10008974837:0?I thought so. So I shout at the two white guys to see if the big ass raccon/tiger is dead. One of the guys shouts "it's dead!!!" I shake my head, insisting that I saw it's large rodent/mammal chest rising and falling. So one of the guys gets real close and......yanks the raccon right by the tail!!! The animal doesn't move. This convinces us that it really is dead. The question now becomes, did someone put it there, or did this thing just pick a random car, hop on the windshield and decide that a blue car was the perfect choice to die on? So we drive closer, get a good look with the windows rolled up and the doors locked just in case the little bastard hops up and grows aposable thumbs, take a picture and burn out. I know one thing, I would pay good money to see that girl's expression when she walks out to her ride. I know I would probably pass out if I saw that shit first thing in the morning. It's just so....unexpected and.....BIG.


So that was my night. Where else but in the 'Ville can you be entertained by a fight, some cops harrassing some Africans, and a racoon/tiger all in the same night? Yeah, man the 'Ville is unique, and I'm not sure if I mean that in a good way or a bad one...