Should’ve Starved (Michael Rossi)

Me and a couple of my dudes are sitting in my ‘86 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme on brisk Monday night listening to the newest mixed-tape by Lil’ Wayne. Seems to be the newest trend. Which is white teenagers to be heavily involved in the rap scene. Whatever, I’m starving. My dude in the front passenger seat is rolling a bount,… obviously being a grape dutch master, and he then said to the three of us, “I got this piff from my connect “Juicy J” from Neptune, it’s the dankest nug I’ve ever got my hands on.” I didn’t care how “dank” this nug was I just wanted to get high and listen to Lil’ Wayne’s newest word play on sipping onpromethazine mixed with sprite and how no one has swagger like us. Did I mention I’m starving?
My dude finished rolling the bount and looked up with the biggest smile on his face. The mood in car seems to have gotten really anxious in a matter of minutes. But I can here my stomach rumbling and I can feel it telling me it needs some fucking food as soon as possible. I suggest we get food before we smoke but then I changed my mind because I kinda, sorta, really want to smoke this right about now. I throw the car in drive and my dude take the first pull leaving smoke dancing off the tip of the blunt like the dancers in T.I.’s new single Anything You Want.
Before the bount gets to me, my other dude in the back seat tells my dude in the front seat,” Yo son, what the fuck did you do to this. It’s a milkshake.” For anyone who doesn’t happen to know what milkshake means, just think of how hard you have to suck a milkshake in order to get some. After my dudes in the back seat both puff puff they proceed to pass, to me. Driving with my left hand on the wheel, and my right hand scrambling to text/manage iPod, I now realize my priorities and start pulling this bount. I can tell this is some potent shit because my dude in the passenger seat is already giggling and cracking his knuckles and franticly looking outside the window to looking around the car. I take a hit. I’ve never coughed so much before in my entire life. Not even when I tried taking advantage of my doctor during my physical. Then, my dude riding shot gun giggles some more and tells me it’s Strawberry Cough.
I pass it along and put on some music more suitable for the occasion. I chose Animal Collectives Feels album and just let it play through. Hearing my stomach growl again I pulled into the back parking lot of the McDonald’s to finish the bount. As I’m pulling in it felt as if I was going 5mph when I was really going 25mph. Which explains why the people were staring at me when I pulled in. Were they staring? Did they see the smoke? I accept the paranoia and decided to let them stay in the car to finish the bount. Walking over to the entrance I was walking in place, but I was gaining ground. Simple distortions like this kept me smoking pot. I was surprised how quickly I felt it. The pain in my stomach started to make me worry. Could something be wrong? Was the bud laced? Raid? Windex? I thought it smelt funny and had a soapy taste. I always expect the paranoia but every time it seems to get the best of me. I walk up to the counter and notice the large black girl looking like she wants nothing to do with taking my order.
She was standing there with crooked posture. Her uniform visor was sitting awkwardly on top of her dirty dreadlocks and her large hoop earrings dangled from her ears with the name “Jezebel” in the middle. They were so weird looking. I could never fucking understand WHY people had to have jewelry with their names engraved on it outlined in diamonds. I’m over it. I walk closer and place my sweaty palms on the counter which seems greasy. The cleanliness of American fast food restaurants make you think Mr. Clean, the dude with the bald head, should be on speed dial. He wasn’t even real. He was only a icon for a company. Where did they come up with the idea, Mr. Clean. What’s his first name? Fuck it, I’m starving. I look up and I’m suddenly taken back when I look at this girls eyes. At the same time, I could see she realized mine too. Common interest between me and the black girl taking my order: both smoked pot. I place my order trying not to make it obvious that I’m looking at her eyes. “Number 1, super sized, and hmm, a coke. And could I get a 6 piece chicken nugget.” I giggle after I said nugget, as did she. I get my order and she asks me through a thick Jamaican accent, “I got bags, want to take a break with me. I noticed your eyes.” Accent was so thick, making me think she was just off the boat, making me think she had really good bud. Wasn’t planning on smoking again but why not? I have my food now.
I follow her outside as I’m inhaling my french fries and I can smell the bud flowing out of her thick ropes of hair that were down to her ass. Rather large ass, at that. Catch myself in a daze falling deeper and deeper into thought about how fucking big this bitches ass actually was. Fuck, my thoughts are so easily wandering. She leading me behind the dumpster, which smells like death. Death of the all the dogs, cats, and chickens they had to kill in order to make my chicken nuggets. She turns around and holds up a joint and smiles. I’ll never forget this smile for my whole life for the reason that her 4 front teeth were gold and her front-right tooth having a diamond marijuana leaf on it. This is where I start to think, “What the fuck is going on here?”
She sparks the joint and inhales then st arted talking with the smoke still in her lungs. I see more and more people doing this when they smoke. Whether it’s with a cigarette or bud, people seem to love to talk with the smoke still in their lungs. She said,” So where’s your ride?” I pointed over the Cutlass Supreme and figured she tell me her 70 year old grandfather drove the same thing, but instead she said she drives the same. Her brother said the same car as well but since he was sent to jail for supposedly running an ecstasy-ring, his car is for sale. She then informed me that it’s not no ordinary Cutlass, but its the BigMac Cutlass Supreme. Her brother was a drug dealer and was called BigMac because he sold the quarter-pounders. I laughed when I realized the joke, but it took me a second since I can barely think straight let alone comprehend what she’s saying through this accent that seems to be full of “clicks” and “pops”. The joint is now in my hands and I swear it smells like gasoline. The idea of the bud being laced always lingers around in my head, but I never do anything about it until I’m curled up in a ball feeling as if I’m in a video game. So I try and keep my perspective. Through her big purple lips, with saliva building up in the corners of her mouth, she offers the BigMac Cutlass Supreme to me and winks after mentioning a special discount. What the fuck, I don’t why but I was hoping she wanted to fuck.
I give the joint back to her, almost done. I didn’t realize how long I had it and the weird thing was that she didn’t seem to care. She kinda just let me be with it. I was hit with the biggest blast of energy and felt the need to dance. To party. To fuck. To dance. To laugh. Black girl tells me,” I crushed kool beans into the bud, I hope you don’t mind.” For those who don’t know what the fuck Kools Beans are, don’t worry. Neither did I until she told it was ecstasy. I’ve never done ecstasy before and didn’t plan on it either, but right now I didn’t care it was too late so might as well enjoy it. Hell, I was enjoying it. She then asked me again if I wanted the BigMac Supreme but it took my awhile to answer because my jaw was locked. I didn’t notice I was grinding my teeth so hard I was swallowing pieces of my teeth along with my SuperSize coke. Not caring that my teeth are fucked, I asked to see a picture of the car.
Black girl pulled her wallet out and showed me a picture but it was fuzzy. I rubbed my eyes and when I opened them back up it suddenly seemed to be light out and detail was very vague. Even though it was 11 at night it looked as if the sun was in the sky, but no where to be seen. I don’t think I’m in the parking lot anymore. These Kool Beans are fucking weird, but I’m riding the high, being rode by this Dread-head black girl. My chest is tight and my head feels even tighter. I think I’m goi ng to die, or my lungs are going to collapse. After all I do have over 200 pounds of women on top of me crushing my abdomen. This is a blur. Where are my dudes? Fuck, I have to drive my sister to school tomorrow. I need to get the fuck out of this place.
I had to have passed out, went unconscience, or even died and came back to life because now I’m sleeping in the backseat of my car. I look at my iPhone to check the time, its 5 in the morning and I have to bring my sister to school in two hours. The next thing I notice leaves me baffled. Absolutely baffled. The car I’m in is a red Oldsmobile Cutlass with rims that are larger than life itself matching the color of the car. Candy Apple Red. I get out of the car. It’s still dark at this time in the morning but I swear I can see the McDonald’s Arches on the side of this car. What the fuck happened last night? BigMac Supreme is now the only car I have because I found a note written in scribbled hand writing saying. “Here’s the car, I needed to get rid of it for my brother. The cops were after him and this car gave up his cover. So when he gets out of jail, he’ll apprieate the fact you car him you car. Fate” Wasn’t exactly my idea how I planned on driving. And what the fuck happens now, police thing I’m BigMac Supreme when they’ll see me driving. Kool Beans, not so kool.

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