I recently put up a link on our network page to Vsauce, an apparently commercially viable YouTube channel. Vsauce features the quirky and clearly enunciated ‘face casts’ of Michael, the most expressive nerd on the planet. I have recently viewed a half dozen of these five to fifteen minute science lessons on subjects as diverse as kissing, clothing, maximum human size, interstellar travel, the atmosphere, and the world-wide money supply.
On my way to work last night I was wracking my brain trying to figure out a readable little angle for a short article promoting Vsauce. As I took my seat on the bus in front of a young lady dressed in black tights and a leopard skin vest, speaking on her purple smart phone, I deployed my paystub envelope, which I save to take notes on, and began scribbling possible titles. I was not, however, to be granted the peace-of-mind required, as this young lady’s every concern, her every trial and tribulation, was spoken into my ear.
That’s right Baby Girl, you got between me and my subject, so now you are the subject, and it occurs to me, that Michael, the Vsauce science nerd, may be just the man to offer a solution to your woes, as varied as they are. His bits seem inspired by viewer questions. So, if you managed to pick up that Harm City card I left on the seat next to you, and found your way here, then find your way to the Vsauce link and ask Michael if he can wax empirical on any of the subjects brought to light by you discourse with the man-child sex drone that is ineffectually keeping your house, while I pay for your community college education, and your mother raises your baby’s daddy’s child*. I’m thinking the pizza question is a good start.
So Baby Girl, in case you forgot the substance of your sublime discourse, which you conducted on a staggeringly advance technological wonder that was never even predicted by the likes of L. Ron Hubbard, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Larry Niven, or NASA when I was your age, I have recorded the salient portions for you, on my lowly envelope and the paystub within, and am transcribing them now…
Fool
“Look, I been workin’ my ass off in school all day, so you need ta take care of the food situation since I ain’t about to come home hungry en remain hungry! You feel me?”
“I know the EBT card ain’t loaded yet, but dare be change layin’ around—If that R-Jay hasn’t pocketed that shit. Besides, you got that small-ass no good loaf of potato bread that you should not have bought no how, which needs to be returned. Return that shit for some real bread en make us a sandwich.”
“Where am I? I don’t know yet. Okay, I am at the library. Look, they havin’ a pajama story time right here… No fool, we ain’t goin’!”
“Because It’s for children jackass!”
“No, I am not goin’ to the store tonight. You know I have to be up tomorrow early to get my hair straightened. You know how I get when my hair is not straight!”
“What you mean they no mayonnaise left? Now you know we can’t be lettin’ R-Jay make no sandwiches and still have mayo at the end of the month. That fool is heavy with the spoon, you know. So I guess you need to take that change en get some mayo too!”
“What do you mean you want me to go too? Fool we sharin’ the same bus ticket en I ain’t kickin’ out another sixty cent so you don’ have to ride alone!”
“Shoot, you the man of the house ain’t you? So get out there en get us somethin’ to eat!”
“Oh that’s right, the store a whole half a mile away! Okay, how much money you got, without returnin’ the potato bread?”
“Okay five dollars ain’t goin’ ta get us a pizza delivered from no Steevarinos. I don’t know how that is even legal; advertizin’ a five dolla cheese pizza en den not even deliverin’ it? You know that ain’t right! Okay, check that new pizza joint up the way, whatever-they-call-it, online.”
“What! R-Jay let a Trojan Horse up in my computer! What was R-Jay doin’ up on my computer anyhow?"
"Okay, okay; I don’t even want to know!”
“No. I am too tired to ride around on this bus again and pick up that pizza. You know dey pizzas be good—you could go and get us a pizza right now!”
“No, that is out of the question.”
“Why? Why! Because fool that five-dolla cheese pizza is clearly not big enough for three.”
“Listen fool, eight slices do not split three ways, and if we let R-Jay go get the pizza then we got to spilt it with him, and that is not happening.”
“Okay, I’m getting’ off at my stop right now. I’m sleepy, noxious and angry!”
And every time I looked up there was an adoption poster that, in a sane world, you might have taken notice of.
Reader’s Note: I don’t know about you, but I’m an R-Jay fan.
*I did not have enough space on the envelope and stub to record the childcare discussion, which clearly indicated that the maternal grandmother was footing the bills and doing the work.
This story and 49 others can be found in The Ghetto Grocer, through the link below.
