What comes first? The chicken or the egg?

Damn, I can’t even have a peaceful dinner with my fam without being forced to conduct another sermon. The weather is beautiful. Fall is the type of female that keeps a man waiting. By being forced to wait on her I appreciate her beauty all the more. I had made plans to catch up with my dudes and Polly over dinner so we headed out to Red Lobster  for some “Shrimps and Lobster”.

The spot wasn’t too crowded, various tables had various people on it but one group caught my attention. It was an older couple, dressed like they were coming from church. O.G and her man, I can’t even front like I thought they were married. My problem wasn’t with them though. Also at the table were two younger women. I will guess that those females were the daughters of the older couple. Each of the younger females had a kid with them. Loud, disruptive and unruly kids. Now I am not saying that there is a problem with kids. Kids will be kids after all, there is only so much you can expect from them when you want them to sit down and behave. That’s also part of the reason you @ashylbowz, but that’s ANOTHER story. I noticed these chicks when I first sat down.

I must have known it was coming….

We ordered our food, our drinks come first. I am trying to settle into my evening and ENJOYmyself. I can’t though. Why? Because directly in my line of vision there was an ashy nipple peeping at me. The O.G chick’s shit was so low cut that her fat bags were tipping out of the top of her bra every time she reached for more biscuits!

NOW…I am a man and I enjoy a good wardrobe malfunction every now and again. But what I don’t want to see is your flat pancake flopping out your bra while I am trying to eat. The sight made me gag. (gagging noise..lol) And if the peeking nip wasn’t enough to turn my stomach I look down and see that this chick got her shoes off under the table. Her feet (alligator heels) had that look like she been kicking flour up and down Flatbush Avenue.

Why do you have your bare feet on the floor of Red Lobster? That’s nasty for you. That’s nasty for me.

Once my food came, I focused on showing those shrimp a good time. I ignored them broads and tried to make the most of dinner. My dudes and me made some jokes across the table about the bird’s ova yonder. Of course they saw us looking at them and must have thought our attention meant we had some type of attraction to either one or both of them. It was a table full of dudes and maybe they thought we were feeling them. I decided to be cordial and make polite conversation; maybe old girl would get the hint if I said something.

“How old is your son?”, I asked.
“He’s one. Why you want ’em?”, was her response. She didn’t say that shit like it was a joke, either. I thought to myself Damn, she said that like she would be happy to get rid of em’. With a bored expression on her face, her titty scratching the top of the table and her feet rubbing against the dirty ass floor she continued to watch lil man tear through the place like theTasmanian Devil.

“No, thanks I have one child he’s six. I know how crazy they can be.”

My comment was part empathetic and part hint for her to wrestle that little demon to the floor and duct tape him to the table. But no dice. He continued to rip and run and so did the little girl. I thought we’re done making small talk until..

“You know you should take him with you. Ain’t no black man got only one kid anyway”, she laughed.

I didn’t find shit funny about it. Let me explain to you why. I have one child and he is the product of a damn near married relationship. I am not having any more kids any time soon. Not because I don’t want the burden and not because I don’t want to settle down with a female. I am not that dude that just puts babies in chicks because I was too drunk to get up and get a condom or didn’t feel like pulling out. Planning a family is something I take very seriously. My mind, my pockets and my lifestyle have to be in synch first. By that I mean my money should be where it needs to be to support my child and the mother (oh, you think she’s gonna work while she’s pregnant with my seed? Nah, only if she wants too, not cuz she needs to), my pockets (no child of mines name will appear on any government begging list), my lifestyle (that means me and the mother have an understanding even though we are no together anymore, our plan, our goal, our agreement to do this thing here TOGETHER!)

I guess she didn’t see the expression on my face because she kept talking. “You know Barack would want you to take care of your kids”, I had to control myself before I said something disrespectful and made a scene in public.

I don’t know what’s worse feeling the brunt of stereotypical ignorant ass comments like this or the ignorant ass mentally enslaved not ready for prime time players like old girl here. They eat the bullshit that society feeds us a people, and then regurgitate it back up on people like me. A brother that tries hard to do (and succeeds) at doing the right thing.

Why waste my breath? She’s young and dumb and full of somebody’s cum apparently (yikes!!). I left it alone because I wasn’t here tonight. Either way. Good food. Good drinks. Conversation with my people’s. It’s the end of the night. The restaurant is clearing out. Gut stuffed, I got my buzz on, and it’s getting late. I am feeling good. We ask for the check. It was then that I noticed that the restaurant was quieter. The family at the adjacent table left. My mouth dropped at the site of the mess they left in the area they were eating in. Food and utensils, napkin bits and spilled soda on the table, chairs and floor. I really felt for the waiter, times are hard and they don’t make a lot of money. I felt really bad for the dude that had to clean all that up for the tune of a $1.00 tip.

We get mad when other cultures paint us to be less than human based on our counterproductive, victim hood mentality but at the same time many of us read the script and play the part willingly.


What comes first? The chicken or the egg?