It’s been a long week. My stupid ass, greasy- handed short version of a man boss was breathing on my neck. This nigga stayed on me all day I only rested the wheelbarrow at lunchtime every day. I feel like he wants to fire me. After all the fewer the men, the less money he has to pay. I have to talk to my uncle about this. He is the boss’s boss!
However, this sorry excuse of authority isn’t the only one who has been on my case lately. The other boss, the one makes sure that you read this, has been hounding me for late submissions. Do these guys even understand that I’m human. Pushing wheel barrows everyday and finding time to write down something is extremely hard. Considering that my English is extremely bad. In all this mess one thing keeps me sane. Ooooh yeah, I’m talking about the sweet smoke of tobacco that delivers Lady Nicotine herself! I love cigarettes but in the ghetto, nothing is ever simple. Even smoking a goddamn cigarette.
There are different brands of cigarettes and its pretty simple to know which cigarette someone smokes. Everest is for the young and the carefree. Those smoking for the pleasure mostly and can afford to buy at least a ten pack every day. It’s not too strong and has a minty taste. Nice! Then basically everything else afterwards. Madison a toasted and extremely harsh on the windpipe cigarette. Really made for real men. I can’t finish a whole cigarette of Madison it’s just too strong. Then comes Pacific Storm. Supposedly made to be Madison’s doppelganger, this shitty cancer-stick does not in any way taste good. But why is it smoked a lot you may ask. It’s the cheapest that crappy after taste is value for the money you pay.
Now that we have the brands out of the way, there are some people just don’t know what cigarettes they smoke. Not because they get confused when they enter a shop. These guys do not buy any cigarettes and wait by the corner to just spring on you and say, “Mogo Mukuru!” Zvigunduru, Soul Jah Love’s long lost cousins with lips so cracked they bleed when they try to smile. I do not have a problem with sharing a cigarette mind you, but it’s who I’m sharing it with that matters. These long black nailed niggas with black burns on their thumbs because of holding on to the blunt too long. Same t-shirt wearing youthies with brown collars smiling at you to share a cigarette he will put between his brown teeth. Hell no negro!
I love smoking. I know it’s a deadly habit. It’s sad that these guys can’t support their habits. But I’ll be damned if a nigga tries to faze me whilst I’m lighting up my lungs. lemme breathe in that good good. As the blood slows down, everything becomes clearer. I still don’t like ya’ll. I’m a savage, I’m an asshole, I’m a king. Shimmy-yeah, shimmy-yeah, shimmy-yeah rock!
ININI
