INTER-FUCKING-MISSION

Okay
today I am very very tired
and I have hours of homework to do before I go to sleep
and I do not feel like doing research
so instead
I am going to tell you a story from my life
and if you have a problem with that
well
you can go re-read any of the 300-plus myths I already done told
I’m doing something different today, ok?
if we were in a committed romantic relationship, you and me
and instead of telling you myths I was having sex with you
well..
okay
first of all don’t take that metaphor the wrong way
but second of all I bet you would be POSITIVELY OVERJOYED
at the thought of me mixing shit up a little bit in the bedroom
because frankly I am pretty bad at sex
no matter how many songs I have written to the contrary
and really I’m just grateful you’ve agreed to sleep with me at all, dear reader
wait
look
okay
nevermind

SO THIS IS A STORY FROM WHEN I FIRST MOVED TO CHICAGO
this was what
like almost a year ago, now?
jeeze.
anyway, when I first moved to chicago I was staying in a pretty bad neighborhood
because I was waiting to move into an apartment i’d found
in a slightly less pretty bad neighborhood
and being a dumbass
I was headed back to the house one night at 3AM
walking down the sidewalk
and this skinny white dude with cornrows walks up next to me
like “Hey dude
wanna buy a gun?”
And I’m like “Uh
no!
Thank you!”
And he’s like “Oh ok.

Are you sure?”
And I’m like “yep! Thanks anyway!”
So he’s like “Ok, cool.”
Then he stops walking and I keep walking.

So I make it about another half a block when the dude catches up to me
he basically just runs up next to me and starts listing the features of the gun
he’s like “Dude, it’s a semiautomatic, colt 45, 13 in the clip, shoots hollow bees at your enemies”
whatever, I don’t know what guns are like
he was saying SOMETHING, is the point
and I’m just like “Really man, I appreciate your sales pitch, but I’m good
I sincerely do not need a firearm at this time.”
So he’s like “Alright, alright.
Well lemme ask you something then:
You got any money?
Cause I’m try’na get something to eat.”
So I think about the all of ten dollars I have in my wallet
and my no job
and the fact that this is already MAXIMALLY SHADY
and I say “Nah man, I’m sorry.”
so he steps around in front of me
and now I can see where his shirt’s tucked in over the gun he tried to sell me
and he’s like “Alright now I’m gonna ask you one more time
and I want you to be straight with me cause I don’t wanna have to put a couple in ya:
You got any money?
Cause I’m try’na get something to eat.”

Well fuuuuuuuuck.
This is what happens when you come home at 3AM, my friends
but like I said
I am a dumbass
so I think on my feet
and my feet, you see, don’t have shoes on them
because I don’t wear shoes
(this is a fact you should know about me, and now you do)
so I’m like “Man, I already got mugged.
See? They took my shoes!”
And he’s like “Well why didn’t they take your bag?”
pointing, of course, to the leather satchel I’m carrying
and also the bag of art supplies I just bought at Blick.
Nice.
But I’m already lying to the dude, I might as well own it
so I say “you wanna look in my bag? There is NOTHING worth taking in my bag.”
And he’s like “Nah man, it’s cool. But what about THAT?”
(he’s pointing at my cell phone, which is bulging in my pocket)
and at this point, against all odds, I’m starting to get angry
so I pull out my phone
which is this battlescarred piece of shit
that I have at various points used as both a juggling prop and a weapon for beaning cats with
and I’m like “Do you want my shitty phone? Here. Take my shitty phone.”
and he’s like “Nah man, I don’t want your shitty phone.
What about your wallet?”
And I’m like “Uh… they took my wallet
you know
when they mugged me?”
And he’s like “WHAT ABOUT YOUR WALLET??”
And I’m thinking “fuck, okay
it is better to lose my wallet than get shot and maybe death-humped by this crazy asshole
so I fish out my wallet and I hand it to him
and he opens it up
and he pulls out the ten dollars that are in there
and he’s like “Ten dollars?

“I don’t want your ten dollars
and he puts the money back in my wallet and hands it to me like it stinks
and then he turns around and walks away
and I’m basically about to shit myself at this point, obviously
when he turns around and he’s like “Hey man
are you staying around here?”
And I’m like “Yeah, why?”
And he’s like “My name’s Keith. I live at this house right over here.
If you ever need anything, hit me up!”
And I’m like “Alright man… will do…”
Then he’s like “Hey, did somebody really steal your shoes?”
And like I said, I was already committed to the lie so I’m like “Yeah, man.”
of course he asks me what kind of shoes they were
so I stutter a little bit and then tell him I’m a rare shoe collector
and that they were a limited edition pair of jordans
at which point he tells me he probably knows who took them
and that we can go over to their house right now
and beat the shit out of them and get my shoes back.
I had to talk him down and convince him that I had plenty more shoes back home.
Then he tried to sell me weed.
I do not know where he thought I was going to get the money.
He had, after all, seen my wallet.

So, I guess the moral of the story
is that the most effective anti-theft measure
is being poor.

The end.

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15 thoughts on “INTER-FUCKING-MISSION

  1. That is one hell of the story, my friend. I’m really glad it ended with you not dead. Thanks for mixing it up; I’ll go to sleep satisfied tonight.

  2. Who the hell mugs you and then points out where they live? KEITH, that’s who. I’m so glad you survived your Keith-encounter, Ovid, and lived to tell the thrilling tale.

    I’m just glad you’ve agreed to sleep with ME, dear narrator, and without resorting to pretending to be a swan or a cow or anything. There’s “mixing it up,” and then there’s Holy Shit I’m Being Raped By A Goose, and I cannot tell you how glad I am that you chose “mixing it up,” instead.

  3. …Do you seriously not wear shoes? In Chicago? In a pretty-bad-neighborhood, probably with broken glass and sharp things everywhere? O_O Good luck with your homework, Ovid. Please continue to be a wonderful distraction from mine as my finals approach.

  4. That’s a great tale, sir. Truly a myth in it’s own right, though I don’t doubt it’s sincerity. It’s easy to forget that even people with guns are still just people. Lota walks of life out there. Just because someone is a dealer and crook doesn’t mean he WANTS to hurt you. That being said, it’s still probably best to keep your distance.

    Cheers for surviving the Chicago night life, my friend!

  5. Glad you survived your mugging encounter. Someone tried to mug me at a train station downtown a few years ago (in a well-populated area, even). I was pretty much a walking electronics store that day but somehow all they managed to steal was my half-eaten bag of chips. Still not really sure how that happened.

  6. Ovid, I’m not sure if your story would have been complete without the above comments. Apparently not-getting-mugged is a thing?

    Anyways, good luck with all that homework!

  7. Poor is as good a reason as any to not get mugged, but it isn’t a universal defence. Lots of people who are poor get held up, burlarized, shot at…But I am glad none of that happened to you. My son talked his way out of a similar situation in Brooklyn one day on his way home from a day of doing some dirty job…His response was “go get that guy with the suit. I got $1 left.” And the guys – there were three of them – left him alone.

  8. Sure am glad you got to tell this tale. Here we witness the protagonist speaking truth to power, but through a lens rarely employed. The universe may be glimpsed through almost any pair of eyes (as George Carlin pointed out shortly before zooming away). Stay well, O-Man. We need you.

  9. “So, I guess the moral of the story
    is that the most effective anti-theft measure
    is being poor.”

    Damn straight. I had my car broken into a few weeks back. They took… nothing. You could tell they had tried to find something to steal as my shit was all rifled around, but seriously couldn’t. My shitty car doesn’t even have a stereo, just a big gaping hole where it once was. They even left the garbage bag they brought to haul away loot on the floor of my passenger seat. I used to to clean up all the used fast food bags and other junk that had accumulated in my car. THEFT FAIL at its finest!!!

    PS: You don’t wear shoes in Chicago? I lived there for 7 years before moving out here to CA… how does that even WORK in the winter?! And don’t you step on all manner of broken glass and crazy business??? Yikes!

    • No, not really. I just carry around some little cloth booties I made and whenever someone tries to throw me out, I just pull them out of my pocket and put them on.

  10. Pingback: It Is Very Important To Me That I Not Have To Wear Shoes | Myths RETOLD

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