Ok, Bitch

I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, but at some point I started eating punches. Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn’t have stood there to take a physical one without fighting back. But I know someone out there feels me. Metaphorical punches are like someone trying to bruise my ego. Bitch shit, basically. I just remember that last week, some woman swung on me, because I didn’t fall in line with her expectations or some shit.

Picture this. It’s a cool fall day in Atlanta. The leaves changing. People are still outside vibing. You know, normal shit. The area I was in was busy. I mean on go. And, I had somewhere I had to be ASAP. This random chick was recording and I was in a rush. All of a sudden I hear..

“You got in my shot, fat motherfucker.”

“My bad, bitch.” I said. I went on about my business.

“You got in my TikTok. Now I gotta record that shit over again.” She yelled.

“Ok, bitch.” I replied.

“What you say?”

“It’s a public sidewalk. Have a good day.”

I took maybe a good ten steps then SPLAT. I felt something wet hit the back of my brand new shirt. I stopped for a second to woosah it out. When I was composed, I kept walking.

“Yo broke ass gotta buy a new drink” I retorted.

It was like she wanted me to grovel for forgiveness. I kept walking until some more bullshit happened.

“You pussass nigga.” Some weird ass simp in a faux-leather members-only jacket got in my face.

I exhaled, still calm.

“Can I help you fuck ass nigga?” I asked. His words assaulted me since his breath smelled like a bag full of dirty diapers.

“You out her tongue boxin’ skunk asses, bruh?” I covered my nose. Goddamn, it was disgusting. “Fuck outta face.” I continued.

“You gone respect these bitches, nigga?” He stepped forward. I took half a step back and reached in my pocket for a mask.

“You gone have to talk in another direction.” I said.

Then it hit me.

“You tryin’ to fuck ol’ girl and think pullin my card gone get you some pussy?” I smirked. “Man, move.”

“Can’t let you do that. On God.”

“Look here. Look here. Look here. If I help you get that, I’mma fuck her first. On some real shirt, I’mma fuck the absolute dog shit out of her. In front of you.”

His face scrunched up at the thought.

“How you gone feel seeing a fat ass nigga like me hittin’ that before you? Unless you a cuck..” I continued.

“What’s a cuck? A cock? That’s some gay ass shit.”

“It’s three pm Friday, seventy-five degrees, someone dressed just like the Village People, damn sure ain’t me.”

“Glorilla lyrics? Feminine as hell, my nigga.”

“Nah, I’m a fan of the camel toe.”

“It’s moose knuckle..”
“Moose knuckles are what men..have..” I shrugged. “You know what? I ain’t even finna assume your orientation, even here in Atlanta. Bruh, you weird as all fuck. Move.”

“Pussass nigga.”

That was the only thing he could come up with.

“Ok, bitch. We done? Cool.”

I headed to the crosswalk to get to the car. When I got in, I reflected on what happened. One, I was fat but that didn’t faze me at all. Two, some simps create entitled ass women by boosting them for pussy. A real woman don’t come with bullshit and theatrics. Three, never pull up on a stranger with ill intent. He got lucky it was me and I hate violence. Had it been a different nigga on a different type of time, shit could’ve went way wrong. Last, but not least, sometimes you gotta tell some folks, “Ok bitch,” and let them punches roll off you.