On my way to Dunkin’ Donuts, I found a quarter. On my walk home, a man asked for spare change. I broke my pride and my back dipping low, and picking it up slow for that quarter – is mine!
He interrupted my standard declination. “I’m sorry. I meant. Can you change this money?” I looked up and WOW this black man had the most spectacular blue eyes. Just imagine Jeremy ‘Prison Bae’ Meeks approaching you in real freaking life!
He was a lil rough-looking, but one can’t be “prison bae” with sexy eyes and church boy swag. Nah, you need bad boy flavour and nasty boi hygiene.
I prayed to the luv gawdz: Make Prison Bae flirt with me, and I’ll rethink not having change. Thirsty much? Should have bought a drink with my meal.
“So, Can you change this money?” Choops. He wasn’t trying to offer me no deek deek. All he wanted was a whole dollar bill in exchange for his coins. Fine, I handed him my dollar.
My misguided ego inflated: Prison Bae and his short-sighted need for spare change is gonna regret passing up the chance to be my boyfriend.
While I waited for his coins he asked, “Do you have twenty? I have more change.” I wanted to move on with my life, but I was too close to locking in karma points and a lover mang.
Dang, I only had seventeen dollars in change, and Prison Bae needed a twenty. Why was the universe trying to cock block this match made in hobo heaven?!
“Oh, what I meant was can you give me enough change so that I can make a twenty?” The scrubbery of it all! “I actually only have is about sixty-five cents. You cool with that?”
No, I’m not cool with emptying my wallet so you can maybe give me sixty-five cents. What in the ‘a scrub is a guy who thinks he’s fly’ is going on?
My dollar in his right hand. His coins (technically my coins) in his left. Liar bae. Broke boy bae. All I wanted was a hot Prison Bae to be my boyfriend!
Snatch my dollar? Nah he was close enough to grab me by the collar and pistol-whip me. It’s not worth getting beaten up and possibly having my cold hashbrowns stolen.
When I snapped back to the moment, he’d done a Micheal Jackson and moonwalked away.
If I hadn’t been thirsty for blue-eyed dick or stingy with that quarter, I’d still have my dollar and a warm breakfast.
Months later he’d gone full junkie: Ragged, smelly, eyes still hella cute if you cared to look.
Crack logic: do a shiesty currency exchange instead of using those eyes and dick to score housing or a job. He could have fathered a manling string with a rich sugar momma and live fat off child support.
Shout out to the color blue; The devil wore a blue dress and she brother rocked some baby blues.
Award-winning Caribbean comedian, Onicia Muller regrets leaving St. Maarten for windy Chicago. Her weekly humour column, Just Being Funny is chicken soup for the naive sceptic’s soul. Join her newsletter for funny stories and stand-up comedy. OniciaMuller.com/JBF.