It’s 8 AM on a rainy Tuesday morning.
I just cleaned my cell. Now I’m rinsing out my Seattle Seahawks trash can. It’s Seattle Seahawks because I clipped a Sports Illustrated magazine for all things Seahawks. Then I taped them to my gray waist can. I call it the “12th Can”. It’s the baddest bucket in the joint!
So I’m rinsing out the “12th Can” in the shower. In comes a guy named Cramp. How he got that name, I’ll never know. Maybe he gets a lot of cramps, or maybe he cramps other people’s styles. Or maybe his mother got a cramp, and out pops him.
Cramp says to me, “Say homeboy, why you gotta rinse your garbage can where other people shower?” His voice is a slow steady mono-tone. He just woke up and he’s dragging his feet.
I ignore him.
He pushes the issue by saying, “I know you heard me.”
At this point, I can go one of two ways. I can take offense, or I can suppress that thought and say something controlled and deliberate.
For a smart-ass combative response: CLICK HERE
For a controlled deliberate response: CLICK HERE