Wednesday, February 12, 2014

My Life (just off) The Sunset Strip…

Episode 0102 - He Touched My Rocket


Stephon, arriving home after attending a health care seminar in Burbank enters the lobby of his building. In his hands was a small amount trash to toss in the can by the cluster mailbox. He noticed someone was standing at the elevator, but didn’t pay too much attention. He didn’t want to drop his cell phone or keys. When he turned back to wait for the elevator he saw that it was his nemesis...SheHeHerHim aka "SHHH", not thin, about 6’1” 250lbs, manly feet with shoulders the width of a Fiat 500.

ME: Hey.

SHHH: (Stare)

The elevator doors open, we enter. SHHH slivers around like an anaconda…then presses “1”. Me, looking straight ahead then realizes.

ME: Oh, “3”, thanks.

The “3” button is kinda messed up and always has to be pressed several times. I noticed his dirty ass finger nails working the button trying to get it to light up. It finally does.

SHHH: Come 143. 143. (Yes, in that same, breathy, Marilyn Monroe “Mr. President” style of voice).

ME: No, I’m good.

The elevator starts to move. He faces the door, stands in front of me, bends over and BACKS THE FK UP!!!
I gently push him away.

ME: Hey, I’m good.

The doors open on the first floor. SHHH doesn’t get out, he stares at me.

I look at the floor and see the biggest, nastiest hammered toed feet I’ve ever seen.

The doors close. He starts his seductive dance again. In disbelief I start to laugh…I cannot believe this is happening…until he reached and touched my rocket! Yeah, my freaking rocket!!!

ME: Yo, I’m good. I’m good.

SHHH: Come 143, I like. Come 143.

I’m holding my hands out signaling for him to not come any closer.

The doors open on the 3rd floor. My floor. I don’t get out. I don't want him on my floor.

The doors close. He behaves as the elevator car moves back down to the first floor.

The doors open.

SHHH: Please 143. Okay? okay? 143.

ME: I’ll be alright. I’m good.

Before exiting he takes another last swipe at my rocket, (which, like a Blacky Jackie Chan I block) and left me with his best “come hither” look.

SHHH: Come 143 okay?

The doors close and the elevator rises back up to the 3rd floor and I exit. I expected to see him down in the courtyard when I got off upstairs, but he was nowhere to be found. He was probably tidying up his place in anticipation of my arrival.


Dude should learn to keep his hands to himself. He could end up getting punched in the nose, It’d be easier if he’d just take the stairs…I pay too much rent in this building to take the stairs.

Upon further thought. I wonder if this whole thing is a case of "Lost in Translation". Maybe he thinks me saying, repeatedly, "I'm good, I'm good" is me bragging about about my sexual prowess?????

Next time I'll say, "I'm good at punching mofos in dey muhfking moufs". I mean, that is a big lie, but I'll just put my mean face on when I say it...and ball up my fist. Dude betta ask somebody...


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