Haven't You Heard?

I've been lookin' for you {Haven't you heard}
I've been lookin' for you {Haven't you heard}
Oh, I've been lookin' for you {Haven't you heard}
I've been lookin' for you {Haven't you heard) -- Patrice Rushen

I've never been a punk.

Angie's looking for you.

Ok. And?

In high school, our cheerleading captain lived in a ramshackle Tiltin' Hilton that happened to be located on the windy road that everyone from my end of town traveled to get to school.

Nobody would talk about her house to her face, cuz she was a nice girl for the most part. We'd sniggle about it in hushed voices when her ass got on her back and she started to think too gotdamn highly of herself sometimes though.

But my best friend...being the tactless complement to my ig'nant ass proceeded to jone about her one day, as Ang's father pulled up in their ramshackle Lincoln to pick them up.

Damnnnnnnn, said Tray, Her car look like her house.

Bwwwwwwwhaaaaaaaaaa!

Niggas fell out laughing. I ain't say shit this particular time because I kinda felt bad for her. Wudn't her fault that her dad drove a piece of shit.

But you know kids are cruel.

Anyway...the next day, somehow the clown got attributed to me.

I assume that they had to put it on somebody, and most folks were skurrrrred of T.

So, I'm at my locker, and I hear,

Angie's looking for you.

And?, I responded.

She heard you was talking about her.

I'm about the ONLIEST person that wasn't talking about her and her poor ass. But ok. Ok. I shut my locker door, and proceeded to homeroom.

Well, look on. I ain't hard to find, I thought.

Why kids do that stupid shit? Running down the hall like some ghetto sentry, talking about

Angie's looking for you.

Fuck I care. Let her ass look.

Guess I was supposed to be scared.

So I'm outside of da club and you think I'm a puuuuuuuunk
So I go to my loaded Tech 9 thats off in the truuuuuuuunk
I told that muthafucka
I ain't never scared (eastside!)
I ain't never scared (westside!)
I ain't never scared (southside!)
I ain't never scared (northside!)
I ain't never scared (southside!)
I ain't never scared (eastside!)
I ain't never scared (westside!)

She rolls up her bubbled-eyed up on me in the locker room before practice. I'm putting on my socks.

So what you gotta say now?

*blank stare*

What are you talking about?

YouknowwhatI'mtalkingaboutbitcheverybodyheardyoutalkingaboutme!

*blank stare*

Ok, cuz I'm not about to argue with this bitch about who said her car was some shit and who didn't.

So what you say?

You tell me.



Da-dun-nah-nuh!!!!!!!!

Tray threw her bag at Angie's feet.

I'LL tell you. I'm the one who talkedtabout you. And. What?

I closed the imaginary piano keys up, and moved out of Tray's way, as she strode about a half'a spit away from Angie's cornea.

Like I said. And. What?

Well, what did you say?, Angie asked, nervously.

I SAY-ED, Tray demonstrated this point and her contempt for Angie by shifting her weight onto her left foot and cocking her head to the side for emphasis, YO'.CAR.LOOK.LIKE.YO'.HOUSE.

*insert standard Southeast grit* <--- don't worry about it if you don't get that reference. Somebody out there from Naylor Gardens, Berry Farms or Simple City knew exactly what I meant.



That's all you could hear. Was ^^^ them muthafuckas.

Angie blinked a few times. I've always assumed that she was blinkin' back tears, but maybe that's because I was blinkin' back tears my damn self. Cuz I was crackin' the fuck UP.

Now that you know, Tray blinked, Uh...was you fixin' to do something about it?

Angie whispered something, but by now, people were clearing the area.

What was that?, Tray antagonized.

Another whisper.

That's what I THOUGHT you was gon' do. Not a GOTdamn thing.

And Tray had a way of saying gotdamn. It wasn't just GOTdamn. It was with all the hock (phlegm, for you proper muthafuckas) she could conjure up in her tho'at and then she just spit that shit out.

Not a GOTdamn thing.

I leaned over and picked up Angie's face for her. Handed it to her.

I'm ig'nant, yet polite as fuck.



They're all gonna laugh at you!


And we did.

Eh.

Guess the moral of the story is...

Don't look for me.

Haven't you heard?