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Friday, November 03, 2017


Beware the eyes that hypnotize...

I had not had Popeye's chicken in a few weeks, so I went to the good one on Flatbush Avenue for a wings combo. I arrived a little after 3:30pm, so the lines were long with people arriving either after school or just as some jobs were letting out for the day. I waited patiently for my turn and I was clearly visible, being my usual shaven-pated and black gi-clad self, but that did not stop a brazen boy of perhaps ten or eleven years old from strolling right past everyone who had waited patiently and situating himself right at the cashier, where I was about to be attended to. He stood there, the very picture of arrogance, cash in hand, and noticed me looking directly at him with disapproval. He looked me up and down and then exclaimed "Whatchoo lookin' at, NIGGER???" 

There was a brief moment when time itself stood still, and rather than say anything by way of response, I summoned my inner Lamont Cranston and met the arrogant little fuck's gaze with an unflinching death glare that bored directly into his frontal lobe and telepathically communicated to him, "You are naught but a dog whose attempts at barking are heard as feeble yips." The tension was thick as all of the adults noted the non-verbal exchange and waited to see what I would do. As has been proven innumerable times in the past, I can verbally throw down with the best of them, however my stare was unrelenting as I waited for the wee turd to open his mouth again and it became quite clear that he had received my mind-to-mind dressing down of him. Finally, his eyes widened, he looked me up and down again, sheepishly swallowed, and slowly backed away. As I moved up to place my order, the other adults on line voiced their approval and vicarious triumph. 

And you had better believe the little piss-ant was as polite as could be when placing his own order.

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