Second time around, I was given the most awesome opportunity to droop my lil’ sis to school. I am filled with nervous jitters and bursting pride. As we drove through St James, we spoke about having a proper breakfast to start off the day, and I offer doubles, one without any pepper. “I had yoghurt already and I don’t want any doubles,” the precocious then 5-year old replied. “Ok, but tomorrow have something more than yoghurt.” I advised.
When we reached her school, I helped her out of the car, “Give me some sugar, girl” and she reluctantly planted a kiss on my cheek, I gave her a kiss and she wipes it off, “Lipstick, oof!” I feel like a first time parent as I see her off to her class, so I waited by the gate. As I chatted with the guard, I saw a sudden movement and saw a silver car with tinted windows cornering my car. In the tinted windows, I saw rapidly moving hands, and a bright orange shirt. Next to him there was a patterned outfit that was also gesticulating wildly. I peered into the car to see if I knew the people in the silver car, I did not. The guard said, “You in a bad spot here, you should go.” I blew my sis a kiss and jumped into my car, but I could not move. I was viciously blocked by the silver car. I motioned to the driver to reverse his car so that I can vacate the spot. I could not move and he refused to move, instead he came out of the car, bright orange shirt, and orange cap, a local Jabba. His body fat wobbled around his body as he glared, cussed and gesticulated at me. He seems angry, what should I do?: (a) give him the sumo wrestler eye and come out the car too (b) blow my horn and rev up my car (c) make my mouth into an “O” and give him the choicest four-letter words that my mother never taught me, and would probably slap me my head spinning like an LP record spun on a music console by a dj? (d) drive away? Bright Orange Shirt Jabba advanced to my car, his peach fat lips curled and dribbled with poisonous yellow cuss words. When I looked into his car in front of my car, I saw a large woman, she was glaring at me, and I think I saw a small pair of little eyes. By now, Jabba seeing my reluctance to reciprocate his kindness, squeezed himself into his car. I confirmed with the guard that my lil sister will be alright, and drove off, not even looking at Bright Orange Shirt Jabba and his minions.
I was chicken alright, I moved away from a fight, my small heart rapidly beating within my chicken chest. I have some weight too, but considerably smaller than Jabba. I lived to see another day, untouched and relieved.