The Police Chase….

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A Hole in My Drawls

        Here boy, put these on!!! What you mean put these on, they got holes in’em and they look like Ron’s old ass drawls momma. The last time you gave me a pair of his underwear, my left ball fell out during recess. I swear, say something ig’nit about these Hand-Me-Downs one more time, or imma chop you square tweenst yo throat boy. (Whispering under my breath), How in the hell I’m supposed to get a girl with these old ass Thundercat underwear on. Hell, Lion-O is supposed to have an afro but this muthaphucka got a perm now.

Hand-Me-Downs or as we eloquently entitled them Hammy Downs were prevalent within the Hall household. It started way before we were born. Hell, I think I had a baby outfit my grandfather wore back in 1918. I always wondered why I looked like an indentured servant in my toddler pictures, sitting on my momma’s lap, looking like Crispus Attucks. You see, our mother would take items from her sibling’s that didn’t make any sense to us. She would take a potato bag and sew it up into four pair of drawls for each of my siblings to wear. Have you ever tried to out run a dog wearing mesh potato material?

Looking back on all the items that were handed-down to us, I can honestly say that those articles of clothing were re-stitched with love from a wonderful mother who understood the importance of survival mode. She always knew how to keep our ass warm at all costs or lack thereof… So when you think about handing down a piece of garment to a loved one, leave drawls off the list…

Shelia Lynn

I have mentioned her a few times in my posts so I thought I should welcome her to the world of Social Media… I chose this picture because I love the poise she displays with her afro centric hair, to the double butterfly collars. What’s Up Momma!!!

Shelia Lynn

Little Debbie Cakes…

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I can recall the first time I got ahold of my first plastic wrapper that hugged that oatmeal crème pie together; Sweet Jesus!!!Our mother would ask; yawl want a snack!!! Uhmm; Hell Yea we want a snack. Shoot, asking if we wanted a snack was like asking Blackmon if he wanted a bottle of Jheri curl juice for his curly on a hot sunny day… Now, Blackmon was an old school dude, with one of those imma whoop yo azz curls. You know the ones that never received dat kuuussst of spray mist of jheri curl juice…

Normally, we would always receive something sweet after a good ass whooping… Our momma would whoop our ass and then they try to explain why she did it over a honey bun? Now listen baby, what you AIN’T FIDNA do is back talk ya momma, ya hear? Now here is a Honey Bun baby…

Is this a plot for her to strike me once more for talking back? I mean, I can’t turn down this delicious honey bun she has in her hands so I teeter-totter close; protecting myself at all times. The more I think about this trade off makes me wonder if this is how my ancestors arrived to the Free World. I mean, a fresh oatmeal pie will make my ass board any boat. Come he’un boy, I got sum’em fer ye’s… Dayuuuuum, is dis crème in da middle of dis muthaphucka!?!!?

As a child, my fascination for Little Debbie’s ran rampant; I would wake up in cold sweats craving for the delicious taste of wafers smothered in peanut butter. They were called Nutter Butter’s but in the Hall family, we called them Dead Man Toenails. Unbeknownst to our mother, she created a monster, so she tried her best to deter us from the sweets; and she created a name to make us stop eating them. Umm, that didn’t help, not at all… It only made us want them more.

Momma, can we have some more Dead Man Toenails please? Schiiid, here I am trying to fool deez Negroes with my colloquialisms and they turn it against me, dayum fockers. Oooh don’t let a holiday come around and Walmart put out their famous Be My Valentine cakes or them Christmas Tree cakes, which was nothing more than a Zebra cake in different colors and sprinkles…

You see, they couldn’t fool me with their advertisements, I was one step ahead of the game because we tried them all!!! Oatmeal Crème Pies, Fudge Rounds, Star Crunch, Banana Pudding Rolls, Fancy Cakes, and the list goes on!!! However, I was never a fan of the Raisin Cakes; they looked like roaches on top of bread to me…

Cutting grass and doing yard work was a typical job for us as kids growing up in Harriman. The best yard I had to cut was for R.C. Hill aka Rufus. He was firm but fair and taught me many life lessons. I would work all day in his yard and at the end, he would pull out his wallet and hand me $30, give or take. In which I would run full speed to White Stores to get my fix for the weekend.

While Panting; Little Debbie came out with a new cake called Swiss Rolls, I can’t wait to get a box of dem suckas!!! They say you can peel the layer back and it got dat crème filled middle. I’m finna phuck a whole box up on the way back to da house…

True to my word, a whole box demolished within 15 minutes, while the remnants where disposed in our family trash can. My mother walks in to my room and says, “So let me get this clear; you gonna work all day long and spend ALL your money on Little Debbie’s!!!” You know when yo momma bite her bottom lip and her nose flare up like James from Goodtimes. Brace yourself because that right hand is gonna rare back like she Serena Williams playing for match point at Wimbledon.

When you get older, its not about the actual hit, it’s more of the talk while she is hitting you, before and afterwards.. Pow, smack upside da head.Now let me see dat bytch in my trash can again!!!” My mother has been blessed with an amazing amount of grandkids, all which are of mixed race; except for my son. Most would say well why you are the only one that does not have a bi-racial child. Umm, after that smack, back in ’86; I ain’t put a white girl in my momma’s trash can nor brought her thru the front door of her muthaphuckin’ house…