Revenge of Ankles Britches

As I sit and write this communication to my friends, family, fans and whatever else out there, I pontificate on where to begin. Where do I start my journey of healing and hope. Should I start by thanking all the folks who have brought fruit baskets, flowers, dinners, cards and get well wishes? Or should I start by cussing out all the trifling ass Nigras who called to see what happened but didn’t bother to bring Ms G a piece of peanut brittle. Simple assess!!!


Hemingway-for those not in the know wondering what I’m ranting and carrying on about, I made the mistake of attending a party hosted by Ms Ankle Britches -newly minted but still wearing high waters - at a suspect trailer location. Turned out to be some hick joint skating rink. Place wasn’t too bad though. And I must admit I got an adrenaline rush when I heard the music bumping while the folks made funky rolls round that smooth concrete circle.


I quickly got the kids skated up and padded down. Of course the two youngest were afraid cause they didn’t have their skate legs but I didn’t have time to teach them. I was ready to get my backward super twist skate on and recapture my youth. Didn’t have time to babysit. As I got my skates & had Lil G lace them up - hey recapturing youth does not include trying to bend my big hips over and tie skate strings. One thing at a time people, one thing at a time.


Once my skates were secured I took a look at myself in the wall mirror & hot damn!!! I still had it. My knee jeans were fitting just right and outlining the curve of my coca-cola apple bottom to a tee!! Hair was freshly micro braided, shined and olive oil sprayed to the max. Can someone say Solid Gold? Marilyn McCoo sit down somewhere. I was ready. The Chicos in the spot was checking me out - Anda-Lay Anda-Lay E-Ho!!! Superstar G was ready. I told Lil G to come on and we hit the floor.


I came too with a lil YT boy waving wet paper towels cross my face smelling like a mix of Bambi and underdog. Gone was the spinning reflection of the disco ball. The bumping bass of it takes two. Ringing in my ears and vibrations in my leg. That’s all I was aware of. Oh and Lil G’s laughter. I was sprawled out like I had just escaped an R Kelly yellow light home video. One of the Y Ties had the audacity to ask me could I roll over and stand up.


"MFR Can you walk through Anacostia with a Klan robe ON? Asking me that dumb ass $hit. Go get some more people & pick me up!!!"

As they half carried half dragged (why I don’t know I ain’t that thick) me off the floor to cheers of the crowd, I felt the urge to cry but I refused to let anyone see me weak. I bit my lip & sucked it up. Besides my hair was still looking good.. They placed me on a bench to wait for the paramedics. Ankle Britches ran over with an unholy gleam in her eye. Now that I think back on it I’m sure she put some Preparation H or something on the bottom of my wheels to cause me to fall!


When the amalance -that’s ambulance for my ghetto vernacular challenged- arrived, I kinda lost my cool. This was the real deal. Those guys pulled out those super size scissors & cut my sock off I called on all the Jesus healing Mahalia Jackson ever sang about. I swear a chorus of In the Upper Room burst from my lips.


"Oh Lord Jesus my foots is gone!!! I’m going to be an amputee!! Oh Lordy why me!!! Why Lord!! OH NOT MY FOOTS & ANKLES JESUS!!"

I was hollering more than Kevonte & Keonte mama nem when they got arrested for shooting up the RE show over at the Reid Center!!! YT kept insisting I calm down & take a deep breath. But I was hysterical. Especially when they popped up that stretcher and strapped me to it. Oh in the name of TD Jakes!!!

It was way too much. I passed out from the pain & excitement as they wheeled me through the crowd and out to the waiting flashing lights & siren of the amalance!!! Umm umm umm. I can’t even finish typing I’m so upset. But one things for sure, Ankle Britches will be getting my hospital bills. I know T.I.P. I can borrow something to bust a cap in both her ankles!!!!

I Feels Like Saaanging!!!

“I feels like saaaanging!!! I’m going with Miss Celie and Shug. I’m fixin to sing!!!”

That’s been in my mind for the last 30 days yall!! I have been feeling like just running down the street naked – well maybe not naked, but in soft cotton PJs – screaming that at the top of my lungs. It’s really been a rough month. Between OJ, Bey Bey Kids & Operation Fire Negro, I’m done for.

Been feeling down for a while now due to circumstances, OVERworked, UNDERpaid!! Just a bunch of BS going on & my money was funny. I called Ole’ Harvey but he didn’t wanna give up no change without a bang. And yall I’m sorry, there’s some shit I just cain’t do. Lying prostrate beneath a GERIATRIC MAN STICK catching sweat drops in the eye while he asking between lung shrinking gasps of air
“Is it good to ya Baby? Tell Daddy it’s good! WHAT’S MY NAME! WHAT’S MY NAME!!?”

I DON’T MFR THINK SO!!!!!

The Jena 6 rally kinda lifted my spirits a little bit. I picked out my afro. Pulled out my jet black Nigra protest pants & even bought a ‘Free Jena 6’ t-shirt from Tokyo the Green Eyed Bandit. Sang along with Curtis Mayfield all the way to work: “If you had a choice of colors, Which one would you choose my brother?” Black Power adrenaline was pumping hard through my veins. That is until I got to work and saw things had changed. YT was packing up Nigras boxes like no joke. Poor Tokyo, he had to yell at me from the parking lot cause they wouldn’t EMUCH let that Nigra back in the building. Peanut ‘nem must’ve snitched on him bout the t-shirts. YT don’t play that protesting shit in the work place.

I immediately called Carabana to ask if they were hiring over at Lorton Prison. Her sage advice was to take off that Jena 6 t-shirt, go buy something Hawaiian print (YT loves prints) and plait my hair up so I looked less threatening. Don’t get me wrong I’m all for the struggle but a biach gotta eat!!!

Things were so tense and I was so restless. Just when I thought I would expire on the spot, somebody else did it for me. Poor Aunt Bitsy Mae Lee Jones passed away in the wee hours before dawn down in One Stop Sign, No Street Signs Alabama. Umm Umm Umm. Poor thang. Mama called me up to fly down & drive her to the woods. I was on the next thing smoking. I needed to get out of See if You Can Keep Your Job, Inc.

Well after driving all night on a 10 hour trip that only should’ve taken 6 following Cousin I’m Too Sexy for My Drag Queen size hands, I was tired. Traumatized – every time a deer jumped out Mama would grab my neck, squeeze, scream and then breathe “Thank You Jesus” just as the deer barely passed our headlights – just plain wore out!! I was so happy to see that blue reflector marking Aunt Bitsy’ property line – I told yall they AIN’T GOT no street signs – I didn’t know what to do with myself.

As we climbed out of the car the first person to greet us was Con (that short for Cousin in dem parts) Fruit Cocktail the Man. Who, although he still sports a Gheri Curl, looks like an elder from Planet of the Apes and repeats each sentence a minimum of 3 times, fancies himself as a lady killer. I was immediately bombarded with questions & statements of the most ludicrous nature I could only smile & nod.

“All dem gurls in Tampa still asking bout me?”

“Dem women’s loves me & I done ‘tole ‘em I ain’t coming back down dere”

“I got all the ladies screaming “Fruit Cocktail!! Fruit Cocktail!!”

“I’ma jump sharp in my 8 piece suit and take a picture so you can take it back home with you. All your friends gonna wanna know who the Fruit Cocktail is!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I now reside in the Chocolate City. That he wouldn’t even get play on 14th street. And that NONE of my friends, acquaintances, or enemies would holla at that!! Yeah it was good to be in the country. I worked my way past him so I could go in, nap and prepare myself for the activities to come. There is no such thing as a peaceful burial in the country. Fish Fry, juke party, wake, funeral and the discussing of the inheritance lay before me. But one things for sure, my mind wouldn’t be on YT firing my Nigra ass.