In my neighborhood #24

In my neighborhood #24
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

The neighborhood does not allow garage sales every weekend. There would be certain individuals that would have a sale every weekend capitalizing on their name more than just getting rid of their unwanted junk.
Metallica, Slayer to name a couple. They would buy other peoples junk to put in their sale so people would buy Metallica’s old toilet or Slayer’s broken weed eater.
We have garage sales as a community twice to three times a year. This means that our neighborhood can look like a trailer park all at once. And only one weekend.
Today I had some stuff to sell so I bought a permit and moved my garage to the driveway.
Henry was on tour and he left me his keys. I piled his mail up on the dining room table and made sure that his two cats “Spoon” and “Mr. Snuggles” are watered and fed. And I grabbed some of Henry’s junk too.
Now do not get me wrong I grabbed stuff he would not really need. Like his African fertility statues, WHAT IN THE WORLD is a guy like Henry need fertility statues for and at his age? And those tribal masks that were really made in China that looked like dark boogey men faces.
I was sitting in the shade waiting for the traffic to sift down to my corner of the subdivision when I heard same yelling down the street. There is always yelling now and again, but this sounded like trouble.
“No Old man you do not know what you are talking about.”
Hmmm I better investigate.
I start walking down to the left by Hammer’s house. Hammer had quite a collection of jammies for sale or maybe they were parachute pants. I do not know but it was a large rack of them.
Living next to Hammer is Chuck Berry.
Chuck had some old furniture and old guitars out for sale. And a collection of bells, ceramic bells from all over the world. Chuck collected bells who knew?
At the curb was one of the new guys P. Diddy, John Paul, and some guy named “Half Dollar” and some skanky broad I have never seen before and Rihanna. They were all yelling up the drive way to Chuck.
“You old man,” Half Dollar yelled, waving his hands around like in his videos. “Are so out of it you think you know, but you know nothing.”
“Hell diaper boy I was in the pussy before you were coming out of your momma’s.”
“Leave my momma out of this.”
“Shit boy you walk around here holding your dick with your pants falling down. You do not know anything.”
“Hey, hey,” I interrupt “What’s the problem.”
P. Diddy tells me that they were looking at Chuck’s sale stuff and the Rihanna wanted to know about the old guitar and Chuck said he would make a deal with her. I knew what he meant and I called him out.
“No P. Diddy you do not call Chuck out. He will eat you alive AND make you his bitch. You have nothing on him.”
“Yeah you think so?”
“Yeah I know so.”
“Look I am sure it was a mis-understanding.”
“No it weren’t reverend.” Chuck yelled and I rolled my eyes. “I know my women, not like these shit stained little momma’s boys.”
“You have no concept of pussy, no concept of how to treat it, or tease it. You just want to own it, but what you don’t know is for a real man, pussy owns you! You have to treat it like a queen or it will tear you up.”
“Yeah tell me another story old man.” Half Dollar rolls his eyes and fingers his Pontiac Symbol Necklace.
“You better not old man me. I know my pussy, I know my music and I know I will whoop your ass.” Chuck said coming down a few step rolling up his sleeves.
Half dollar pulled out a .38 pistol.
I moved so fast the “Dollar” guy never saw it coming. I grabbed the pistol and hit him on the side of his head with it.
“What are you doing?” I screeched at him. “Pulling a gun out on Chuck. He does not have a gun.”
“No-one is gonna disrespect me.”
“What disrespect, Half Dollar? You want to tell me?”
“He is right you thugs walk around here like the fucking bulls in prison and you do not know shit from shine-ola.”
“Chuck here made a complement to Rihanna and you girls want to shoot him.”
“What the fuck?”
P. Diddy made a step towards me and I kicked him in the crotch and he just stood there. I looked at Chuck and we both started laughing.
Diddy picked Half Dollar off the ground and they started back to their house.
“C’Mon Rihanna!”
“I will be there in a bit.” And she started up the drive to talk to Chuck about the guitar.
Diddy and Half turned and started to charge up Chuck’s lawn.
Chuck stepped up and clothes lined Diddy putting him on his back.
Half Dollar turned and started towards him again.
Chuck dropped back into a martial arts stance. When Half was within range Chuck began to do Kung Fu on Half Dollar’s ass. Chuck beat he shit out of him. Only stopping when Rihanna stepped up cryin “No Chuck, don’t hurt him anymore.”
P. Diddy was still on the ground holding his throat and crying silent tears.
Half dollar tried to move but he had no strength and gave up to bleed into Chucks lawn.
Rihanna rubbed Half’s shoulder. “You ok baby? You ok?”
I went over to P. Diddy and bent over him.
“Can you breathe?”
He nodded.
“Then I suggest you get up and leave. Because I think Chuck is about to pee on you both. I turned to look at Chuck. We shared a smile.
P. Diddy got up and staggered to Half Dollar and helped him get up.
“Stupid old man.”
Chuck yelled “This stupid old man just schooled your punk-ass, now git before I get angry.”
Chuck you know they are gonna get their posse and come back.
No they are not. I hit them both with the Tibetan monk transsexual implosion punch. They are both gonna turn into women and then they are gonna have a real tough time.
We laughed and laughed.
The traffic started to pick up so I went home to find someone had stolen all of my junk.
Wendy was in her driveway and she had a smile on her face.
I thought about asking her if she knew what happened to my stuff, but, shit, Wendy scares the shit out of me. It is best for me to just go inside, butter up and sit at the knot hole. Someone has to keep an eye on those lesbians.

Like A Monkey With A Handgun

By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007..

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