Someone got their taxes back and became American Gangsta

I'm standing in a long ass line waiting to purchase movie tickets for Shutter Island when suddenly I catch a glimpse of someone that I've seen before. I couldn't quite place it... I felt like I've seen this before...

I squint a little harder and try to make out what I see not even 30 feet from me. Half animal , half man... it's mufuckin Frank Lucas rocking a full length fur coat with the matching hat looking a hot Earned Income Credit Mess.

I bust out laughing and the Agent asks me what I'm laughing at. I tell him "I spy Frank Lucas" and we both bend over in the kind of laughing that leaves your stomach in knots.

I have nothing against fur and I think the folks of PETA are borderline insane so the fact that he's draped in the fur of 32 dead premature and lab tested Koala bears doesn't disturb me at all. It's the 4 children that are with him rocking some regular ass gear that I find a little off. I couldn't figure out why in 58 degree weather would a "father" take his children to the movies wearing some discount ass fur. Nor could I figure out why he looked like Sunday night at Studio 64 and they looked like the commercial of CitiTrends.

So, of course, I stand in line and try to guess how this came about and this is what I came up with. Follow me through my demented story time... We'll call the man Furly Earl. Why? Besides the obvious, I think the name Earl is funny and it just so happens that every mufugga I know named Earl aint shit so... yeah, Furly Earl.

Furly Earl has 4 or 5 children. Baby mama wasn't working or was working and could only claim 3 of the children to get the earned and child tax credits so she decided to let Furly claim one of the children. Furly goes to the nearest makeshift, get a refund in 8 hours, subway shop of a tax preparer in an area that only the border-hoppers dwell in with little Earls social security number written on the back of a cigarette carton.

A half mexican-half Jamaican man named Junebug Santino prepares Furly Earl's taxes and tells him that with his child as a tax exemption, he can get back over $5000.00. Ecstatic, Furly Earl jumps up and does the homeboy boogie and tells Junebug to take the 700.00 fee for the rapid refund and he'll wait the 8 hours for the return.

Furly's stomach is in knots as he's waiting for his tax loan. He's pondering what he's going to do with all of the money. Pay bills? Get rims? Buy back Little Earls 360 from the pawn shop? He doesn't know.

He's taking back every time he wished that he would've pulled out of his baby mama. After all, if it wasn't for him basting her fertile turkey with his super sperm, there would'nt be a big refund like this! After the wait, Junebug comes out and tells Earl that his refund is going to be 5000 and asks if he would like his refund back in cash or on a pre-paid debit card. Furly tells him "Gimme my shit in cash nucca. Few 100's; mostly 20's. I wanna take pictures for my Facebook page".

As Furly leaves the subway shop/tax preparer, he passes by a man leaning against a hot dog cart. The guy is dressed like Sweet Daddy Williams from Good Times and he's chewing on a toothpick.

"Ay main man! Whats up with those rags?" asks Sweet Daddy

"I don't know. What you mean?" responds Furly Earl

"Nigga, you dressed like you didn't just cash a fat check. That's what I mean. Come on over to my store and I'll give you a good price on some shit like mine" says Sweet Daddy pointing to his colorful furn and matching leisure suit fresh from a 70's blaxploitation movie.

"Where's your store?" questions Furly.

The ex-pimp walks to the hot dog cart and pulls out a long grey fur coat and matching hat.

Furly grabs it and asks "How much?"

"How much you got?".

Furly pulls out his envelope and says "5,000".

Pimp says "Well, I normally sell them for 5500.00 but I can give it to you for 4900".

Furly never refused a good deal so he hands the man all of his money minus the 100.00 that was left and strolls off with the rat fur. He's holding his last 100.00 bill and feeling bad about not paying off his Rent-A-Center leather sofa or paying back his past due rent. His children are going to be disappointed because Furly Earl promised to buy them all a pair of sneakers.

He walks through the front door holding his fur and his children run up and ask "Daddy are we going to the mall to get our sneakers?"

"Nooooo.... we're not going to the mall to shop buuuuttttt we are going to the mall to see Alice in Wonderland!" says Furly Earl as he looks in the faces of the children that he created. "isn't that exciting?" asks Furly Earl.

The little one puffs out his chest and says "Man, you still aint shit!".

And then Agent asked me something that stopped my daydreaming.

Moral of the story: None... I just hate tax time and dumb ass people.

Cruel and Unusual Punishment...

The DC sniper was executed via lethal injection last night and I don't know how I feel about it. Although I wasn't a direct victim or family member of a victim, I indirectly experienced Mohammad's terror by fearing white cargo vans and wanting to stay in the house during my senior year of high school so I understand why people wanted to see him dead. However, I always thought that the death penalty was quite cruel and unusual punishment. I've had friends killed but never have I wished death upon the person that murdered them. I'd rather they sit in a prison and be rehabilitated to become better people.

I never understood how the government or 12 people in a jury could control and dictate who should live and who should die or what crimes were deemed punishable by death. As a country that believes in "one nation under God", how can the government choose who lives and who dies? I thought that was up to the Almighty One. There are people that rape children and eternally kill their mental being but do not get the punishment of a murderer.

Belovedone made a very valid point when she questioned when Scott Peterson's needle would be ready. I cant help but to think that race and financial status of the victims play a part in who gets the death penalty. If a poor black man kills another poor black man will he get the death penalty? Probably not. I've seen killers get off for "technicalities". Now let a poor black man kill a rich white woman- I can say that, more than likely, he will receive the death penalty depending on what racist ass state he's tried in.

My point in this matter is that I don't believe in the death penalty but I understand why a victim/family member wouldn't be opposed to it.

That French Shit...

Standing in line waiting to purchase a few items at Wal-Mart, I took notice of a woman in her mid 20's with a cart full of feminine hygiene products. I mean... the cart had some of that french shit (dou 'che), Summer's Eve powder, FDS spray, some Norforms... etc. I started to question how someone's sippy cup could be so stank that they would raid the feminine aisle of Wal-Mart at 4pm on a Sunday and load up on everything pussy related? As I got closer to the woman, the smell of something related to Nemo took over all my senses... my eyes started to water, I swear I was hearing "under the sea", the smell even overcame my sense of taste and I then began to question if i'd just ate a ghetto fried fish sandwich with extra tartar sauce.

I look at the cart... I look at the woman. I look at the Monistat... I look at the woman with her black leggings on and off the hanger shoes and came to the realization...

That shorty was living foul!

Chick, you a grown ass woman and you don't know that all of that will mess up yo PH balance. Do you not know that if yo sammich smell like sewer sludge that you should make a trip to the gyno? Sad part of this whole thing is there are men busting that puddy up on the regular and they could be busting other puddy up on the regular too spreading all types of sludge to the masses.

I swear I cant stand the stench of 3 day old pussy. I shouldn't be able to smell yo Kit Kat through yo jeans... and covering it up with Funky Dirty Snapper spray is not helping yo situation at all. You maximizing yo odor with that shit... flowery fish is a no, no. Put some Old Bay on that crabby patty and stop fucking up the ozone layer.

Rant over.

Wrong Number

Me: Hello?
Woman: Hi.... how are you? ** confused**
Me: Im fine, you?
Woman: Im fiiinnneee... Is Kenny around?
Me: ** realizing its a wrong number** He is... but he's kinda busy like really busy.
Woman: Oh, really? Doing what?
Me: **giggles** I'll tell him to call you when he's done and then he can tell you how it tastes.

Click

Im such a bitch. I dont know who Kenny is but Im sure that whoever it was that called me from a 467 number is gonna give his ass the business later. LMAO
I know, I know.