#theclerk

"This is my friend. His name is the Gentleman. We met in prison."

Gorgeous ad Carter Reel... Bloopers... Wak On, Walk, Off... ABORT

“Bro, you really think you can walk on?” Young asked.

“Shii, Imma try. Why shouldn’t I?” Russ responded.

“Seems like a lot of work, a lot of risks, and a low opportunity for Payoff.”

“Nigga please! I’m gonna Walk ON then Walk Off straight into the Pros.”

“Who am I to tell you it aint possible?” Young asked.

“Naw it’s all good. Bro, you just a good friend concerned for about my well-being.” Russ said. “I appreciate that more than you lying to me.”

The Duo had finally made it back to The Dorm to change for the night’s festivities. The walk back to the dorm felt 10x’s longer than the walk there. Perhaps it only felt longer because they were talking the entire time.

On the way, Russ shared stories about the new Houston people he’d met earlier that day.  Russ marveled at how similar the groups of friends were in comparison to the friends they’d come with. They had more similarities, than they’d had differences, and that was the only information he felt he needed to know in order to build new coalitions.

“Wasn’t you the one ready to box in The Annex when we saw them earlier today?” Young asked.

“I WAS, but now, after talking to em, they not that bad.”

“Whatever, you just diggin that Booza Chick you kept talking about.”

“It’s Boozer.” Russ corrected.

He couldn’t help but be attracted to her shapely frame. She was dressed to impress every time you saw her with her own style and own mind, in mind. Nothing was more attractive than that. Not to mention, she had the face of an angel that was brought there to deliver good news. While he was willing to admit, the OakCliff Queen looked mightie fine, something about the Houston Girl Swag and demeanor had him hooked before he’d ever had a chance to sample.

“Does this mean you’re not sleeping on the floor tonight?” Young asked as they exited the elevator on their floor.

“I don’t know Bro. I been texting her since I left and she seemed like she was talkin’ bout it, but I can’t call it right now.”

As they got closer to the door, Young checked his pockets for the room key, but didn’t hear the familiar jungle. 

Fuck!

“You got your key?” 

This Nigga.

“Where I’m supposed to get a key from? I almost didn’t even exist at this Orientation.”

They began knocking on the door frantically. 

Nothing. 

After that didn’t work, and they didn’t notice any sign of fuck action going on in the room between Soulful & BrisQuo, they pondered.

Lord let him be in there.

There was no way both of them were going to show up to Gorgeous smelling like ass & sour brisket. They looked at each other and decided to take it back one time in a last stand attempt at getting BrisQuo to open the door...

It worked! They heard a low murmur of curse words & the sound of nails scratching an ashy stomach. Yep. BrisQuo was in there alright.

“Damn Niggas!” He said as he opened the door. “Where your key at?” He asked mean mugging Young.

“I can’t find it. I think I left it in here.” Young replied.

“Why you aint ask me where my key was?” Russ asked.

“Shut up Nigga.” BrisQuo replied.

Why he in such a bad mood?

“What’s good BrisQuo? You got something on your mind?” Russ asked.

“Naw not really...” BrisQuo lied.

“Naw, something’s wrong.” Young replied. “You seem crankier than usual.”

“Aside from being from being awoken from my slumber...”

***

 BrisQuo & Soulful walked into a store with their backpacks on. They had on backpacks because that’s where they were keeping all their Orientation materials. They didn’t want to hold them, because they were too busy holding hands as they moseyed.

“Hey, you there, you two.” The Clerk said as they entered the store.

BrisQuo looked around confused as to whom the Clerk was addressing.

“Yes. I’m talking to you two.” The Clerk responded as he pointed to the sign that read.

“No Backpacks Allowed.”

Initially, BrisQuo & Soulful felt they had to comply in order to be allowed access. However, once BrisQuo looked around he noticed none of the other shoppers, none that were darker complected, wore backpacks.

“Bro, you got at least thirty custos in here with backpacks on. Why, specifically, do you want to keep ours?”

“No reason.” The store Clerk replied. “I don’t make the rules kid, I just enforce them.”

*****

Both Young and Russ remained silent as BrisQuo recounted his tale. Partly because, it was BrisQuo and he often used humor to exaggerate a story, but also, partly because they knew in their heart of hearts that that could have easily been them. 

“Y’all thought we escaped this racist shit in Dallas?” BrisQuo asked menacingly.

“I guess not.” Russ replied.

“Nigga you guess? Were you even listening to the story I just told you?”

“Calm down BrisQuo.” Young pleaded.

“Naw Bro. Y’all calm down. Man I’m tired of talking about this shit. I already had to tell my brother, my mama, and my stepdad about it. Three is more than enough.” He said as he began to get dressed hurriedly.  

“Where you going Bro?” Russ asked.

“Out my nigga. Out.” BrisQuo responded quietly. 

“But Bro?!” We met some cool ass people today, we found out about the Lock-In, like, today was still a good day.” Russ said.

Uniforms part 2.