by B.J. Delas Armas
on 6/01/2004 12:27:00 AM
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A Tale of Two 7-11s
7-11 One: Yesterday or rather (another white word that I wanted to use !) I went to the 7-11 in the mean streets near downtown Santa Cruz. There was no shortage of customers there. They charged $4.98 for my two ham-and-cheese hot pockets (the real Keith Delesesesespiritubagasamagabasanto treat), which prevented me and my mere 2 dollars left over from grabbing a toll house ice cream bar for $2.19.
After I paid up and stood outside, some dude who straight looked like Kevin Garnett because all black people look the same, with a drugged up blonde girl who looked like she was drooling at the passenger side sped right into a parking space where I was just standing before Daniel told me to get out of the way. After he got out of his shitty '77 Chevy, I make the mistake of making eye contact with this guy. So I played this game (only he didn't know it was a game) with him to see who would stop staring first. He did not seem to be happy with this game. All of a sudden, this Kevin Garnett lookalike was motioning toward me ready to assert his manliness (as if the blonde porno star inside doubted it :wink:) and str8 take me, what would appear to be a short nerdy-looking Hispanic-looking kid with glasses, out. I quickly buckle on this game and shift my glance further to the right cuz I'm Asian and can't compete and into the 7-11 he notices and looks back. This probably wouldn't have happened if I was as big as Shaq cause he wouldn't even think of turning towards me, but alas being small sucks as usual. He strode so easily and confidently into that store.
Little did he know about how he was about to get owned like it was slavery again. What he did not count on was me being AzN ! He came back outside and being Asian I quickly did some sneaky engineer work on his car adding champorado and a big fat langunisa to his steering fluid AND did a side kick to the back of his leg, thus cutting his basketball career at Division 3 UC-Santa Cruz short (He probably had some capacity of a basketball career, but hey at least he can still talk, leaving him the options of comedy or rapping). He lay on the ground breathing heavily. All of a sudden he grew stick straight hair and looked like he was actually trying to recover from pain.
That 7-11 was wack attack.
7-11 Two: Then just last night at the 7-11 near school there was an actual shortage of customers. The store was ours for the taking. Hot pockets were 1.88 each. Full of money and with no other person to take it, I even got to get that Toll House Chocolate sandwich, though it was double chocolate and therefore a little of less quality than chocolate chip, from which I drew a valuable, corny lamp-chop-play-a-long lesson: Say eh to too much darkness. The cookie tastes good when brown and black go together like wamlam lumop and boo bamboo, chang changity chislepop. (And my red, yellow, peach, and mulatto brown could be represented by the hot pockets I got). I was so moved by this 7-11.