Feb 17, 2007 19:19
Today I moved a super-nice Rasta in Everett who embodied all of the magical Jamaican Dread stereotypes. It was awesome.
1.) Chain-smoked blunts throughout the move? Check. (Cough cough)
2.) Heavy Dancehall booming on the stereo of his brand-new Infiniti? Check.
3.) Laid-back and nice in the extreme? Check.
4.) Gold inlay on his front incisors, featuring a spade, heart, diamond and club? Oh yeah.
5.) Shifted effortlessly from standard Boston Black Dude dialect to Kingston Patois? Check.
6.) Shitty old furniture, multi-thousand-dollar televisions and stereo? Unh-huh.
7.) 6 kids, from different mommas? Yep.
8.) Paid substantial bill for moving with Cash, peeled from a massive wad in a plastic bag? Yeah.
9.) Every object in apartment smells of marijuana and Nag Champa? Yeah.
10.) Upon paying the bill for the day, he peeled off $150 extra, put it in my hand, and said, "Dat's fah lunch on me, mon, knock yeself out,". He then reached into his jacket, pulled out a dime bag, and put it in my hand, saying "Dat dere's foah de ride 'ome wit de boys, and me tanks fah ye hahd work."
Like unto a whippin' stick, indeed we are steppin' razor.