"Do you think...
...he’ll do it?”, she asked.
And I thought about the guy who was always there on moving day...who didn’t sweat it when I borrowed seven of his cds and either lost or scratched them all up to hell...or who loomed over my shoulder when I picked up a Heineken bottle and threatened to put it in a drunken all-pro linebacker’s throat...and I replied to her, “Yeah, B’s cool. Even though his relationship with God has been a little shaky since he lost his parents, he’s good. I’d trust that kid with my life.”
I personally don’t think you need God parents. Agent B and Slick Talk have been there for me and I know that they’d naturally extend the same to you. Brethren look out for brethren...and brethren’s kids. But that’s your mother, very religious. Her kitchen has more pictures of saints and deceased relatives on the shelves than Goya products. She pulls out different combinations depending on the occasion or circumstance, lights a candle, and sometimes asks me to pray with her. I call it her religious spice rack. I don’t always understand it, but I respect it...as you should. Since we’ve been together I’ve seen some strange things that always seem to revolve around that spice rack. So again, respect it.
So, with that decision agreed upon we had Agent B over for dinner last night. And after he complimented the chicken broccoli alfredo I had made that came out a little bland I asked him. And as I knew he would, he said yes...then asked for a second helping. Yeah, even though it didn't taste that good. That right there is B.
And let me just tell you, you’re lucky, because I never knew my God father. And maybe it was for the best, because I saw a picture of him once and if anything did happen to my parents I have a feeling that I would have ended up learning how to roll dice real well and identify restaurants that made good fish sandwich. Not saying there’s anything wrong with that, but from the looks of the picture I think those were his strong points.
And I thought about the guy who was always there on moving day...who didn’t sweat it when I borrowed seven of his cds and either lost or scratched them all up to hell...or who loomed over my shoulder when I picked up a Heineken bottle and threatened to put it in a drunken all-pro linebacker’s throat...and I replied to her, “Yeah, B’s cool. Even though his relationship with God has been a little shaky since he lost his parents, he’s good. I’d trust that kid with my life.”
I personally don’t think you need God parents. Agent B and Slick Talk have been there for me and I know that they’d naturally extend the same to you. Brethren look out for brethren...and brethren’s kids. But that’s your mother, very religious. Her kitchen has more pictures of saints and deceased relatives on the shelves than Goya products. She pulls out different combinations depending on the occasion or circumstance, lights a candle, and sometimes asks me to pray with her. I call it her religious spice rack. I don’t always understand it, but I respect it...as you should. Since we’ve been together I’ve seen some strange things that always seem to revolve around that spice rack. So again, respect it.
So, with that decision agreed upon we had Agent B over for dinner last night. And after he complimented the chicken broccoli alfredo I had made that came out a little bland I asked him. And as I knew he would, he said yes...then asked for a second helping. Yeah, even though it didn't taste that good. That right there is B.
And let me just tell you, you’re lucky, because I never knew my God father. And maybe it was for the best, because I saw a picture of him once and if anything did happen to my parents I have a feeling that I would have ended up learning how to roll dice real well and identify restaurants that made good fish sandwich. Not saying there’s anything wrong with that, but from the looks of the picture I think those were his strong points.
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