Stories that have made the rounds, but never made it to writing...

In an average week for me I would say something unbelievable, horrible, funny, disturbing happens about 3 times. I have allot of stories that I've accumulated over the twenty three years I've lived on this earth but I also have the pleasure of being surrounded by people who have almost as bad luck as me and are usually out of their minds. This is a story that happened in 2006, there were six of us in a four bedroom house infested with mice and in a rough part of town. All kinds of stuff happened at this house, but this is the story I feel should be told first. The story involves two of my friends, one of which is Mike Katz, and the other is a gremlin that I love dearly, Yabo. So, here is the story of Mufasa the 365 Ib black man.

A typical night, meaning every night, was capped off with drinking loads of cheap beer in our living room and blaring music from Yabo's laptop. During these living room sessions a man wandered onto the porch and introduced himself as "Mufasa" and began explaining that he in fact used to live in our house. Words were exchanged and long story short Yabo did not feel comfortable letting this guy come into our house. We had heard the story and thought it was funny and weird but was quickly forgotten. In a house where Prostitutes are fighting your friends and then out of nowhere giving strangers blow jobs in your front yard, selling drug addicts fake crack and having them come back throwing bricks only to hit the one Innocent bystander in the chest, stoner girl friends fighting stoner girl friends, and two weapon crazy best friends in the addict making mid evil weapons and bombs...well, things don't seem weird when on Colfax ave.

A few weeks had gone by and Yabo had returned from school to an empty and dimly lit house with the door open. He turned the lights on and headed upstairs to hear the shower running and figured that someone got drunk and decided to shower, leaving the house open to all due to their own negligence. So Yabo went about business as usual in his room whether that was drawing demons, eating mac n cheese, or picking his nose while farting I couldn't tell you, but what I can tell you is that it all stopped when the bathroom door opened. I tall sillhouette of a figure stood there and as the steam cleared a freshly showered Mufasa walks out of the bathroom with yabos towel around his naked body. Shocked, Yabo asks "dude, what the fuck are you doing"? Mufasa explains he used to live in this house and it's ok cause he needed a shower. "You gotta get out of here man or I'm calling the cops" Yabo says, while Mufasa assures him that it's ok because "I got you guys a pizza, it's on the counter". Upon further inspection there was in fact a fairly fresh looking large pizza on the counter, which someone would later come to eat because it "looked buttery to them". Exactly how Yabo got him out of the house after that is a mystery to me but he did and that's what mattered.

Following the visit we all heard the story and couldn't get enough of it, we even stumbled across a closet where he stored some of his goods. But none of the stuff we ever found after he left compared to when Mike Katz came home from vacation, not knowing of Mufasa nor his antics, went to his room and came out holding up a pair of size 38 soiled phat farm jean shorts and asking "Uh, who's are these"?

Took a brief hiatus from writing but now I'm back...

It's been a pretty crazy month, I'm still living on Canyon's futon and providing the living room with a certain aroma only a true best friend can produce from his feet. I got a new job, I work for a chill snowboard company and half the clothing has stash pockets for...shhhhhh, ya know, buDZ. Things were really looking somewhat up until I got robbed three blocks from my house by a child with a knife. I've been pretty paranoid latley and my pride, or what's left of my pride, is bruised. Not to mention I have a whole new fear of black people in general, but mainly black children. After all this trama I've been through I figure the least I can do is give my advice and insight on what to do if ever in this situation from the eyes of a twenty something white guy who's super good with advice.


First things first, panic: As soon as I noticed this young man trailing me and following every move I made after picking up a good amount of money, I made sure to make every suspicion I had of this very vocal and aloud. "fuck, I can't believe this kid is following me and I have all this cash and various ipods" I said, then quickly realizing I made a mistake I followed it with a smooth "I wouldn't go messing with me though, espicially since I got diagnosed with being insanely crazy". This let's all young thugs know that yes you do have tons of money but you are also inanely crazy, which means you are capable of doing all types of crazy stuff including wandering around Malcom X ave really high with lots of cash on you.

Step two, run away: I wandered into the street where the young man quickly followed me, I knew at this point that something was wrong cause even though I was a little high I could clearly see him making gestures of slitting my throat towards me. "Yo, what time is it" he asked hopeing that I would pull out my phone, but I came right back with "I don't got the time, especially for this". I'm not sure what I meant by it exactly but when I said it I gave him a look like there was nothing in the world he could say to top that line, while he just looked at me with a "I'ma steal dat phone" stare. The light turned green and I started skating and I looked back and he was chasing me, I skated faster and he ran faster so the chase was one...sort of.

Get caught by thug tween: As fast as I thought I was skating, the kid caught up to me relitively quick. He was yelling "gimme dat phone, gimme dat phone" and the closer he got he began swinging at my head and head realated areas. I stopped short and grabed my board knowing that the joke was on him cause now I had a weapon ...but as soon as I picked the board up he kicked it away."Oh fucking...oh boy", my mind was blank as I stared the cock eyed angry young man face to face. He asked for the phone again and I said "uhhhh, no you....this is like my phone man". The second time he asked he pulled out a knife fromthe pocket of his khakis and put it towards me.

Give your phone to the kid: At this point we're in the middle of the road across from an elementary school where children are laughing and playing, older kids are playing dice and no gooding stop and watch as I'm being threatened at knife point. He has no interest in my wallet, my ipod nor anything but my phone so I pulled out my $40.00 cracked screen phone and he took off. I was left standing in the road sorounded by people who witnessed a grown man being robbed my a child. I skated away from Malcom X ave not knowing where to go or what to do.

I later got to the house, feeling a little high off of both being robbed and smoking before the robbery. I quickly wrote a description of the kid down on a piece of paper and it read "Black youth, 13-16 yrs old, light skinned, crooked eye, white shirt and khakis with short hair". I read over the description later and decided that the chances of finding just one young guy with khakis and a white shirt sporting a crooked eye in my neighborhood was insane, since on my block alone there's a 60/40 crooked eye ratio, so I threw the paper away. I lost my phone, I felt defeated, but somewhere in Bedstuy right now there is a young cock eyed boy looking through cell phone picks on said phone and stubbling on a rather large collection featuring my penis peeing in different spots around NYC and all my troubles float away.

Anyway, my advice is to not get robbed. It's the worst, I would much rather eat snacks or drink beer, maybe drink a few snacks like that drinkable yogurt they have now. Just promise me you won't get robbed by a crooked eyed ruffian in the projects.