Gbagbe
Gbagbe
I decided to go for a walk in this neighborhood that seemed familiar to me. I needed to clear my mind. I passed house after house until this one home stole my attention. It gave off this vibe that I felt I knew. The home was enclosed by a golden gate to keep unwanted guests from getting close to it. When I walked up, it opened on its own. Inside the gate, there was a yard. The yard had concrete walk ways, separated by a rectangular grass area. This grass area seemed perfect for pitch up tackle football, with the walk ways acting like the goal lines for each team.
I walked up to the front door, instinctively tapped my pocket, and to my surprise there was a key. I placed the key in the door and it opened. The home seemed so inviting that I felt I was supposed to walk in.
Once inside, I saw a living room that reminded me of 90s cartoons. There were burgundy suede sofas on each side of the living room, covered in plastic, to ensure no damage would come to them. In the middle of both sofas was a glass coffee table with Essence, Ebony and XXL magazines on it. The walls were white and there was a floor model television that had this faux wood all around it.
For some reason, I felt as though plopping down on the plastic covered sofas would lead me to relief and it did just that. As soon as I sat on the sofa, the TV instantly turned on and an episode of Rugrats played. I knew all of the characters. Why did I know all of the characters? I reached for the remote to change the channel and as I flickered, I ran into episodes of Doug, the Saints winning the Superbowl, Barack Obama being inaugurated, the day that I died, and the day I was born. I settled on the day that I died. I was dead.
This action sequence played set to Joe Budden’s “Sidetracked,” and it ended in this violent car crash.
“Got a migraine, but I forgot that I was sick, cause these jeans don’t seem to lay right over my kicks.”
This 2011 Chevy Impala ran straight into the back of an 18 wheeler. When they pried the driver from the car, he had his phone in his hand, opened to a text thread from Prinsha. The last text received read, “It was never going to be you.” I wanted to know what his reply was, but they didn’t focus on his reply.
“I’m so easily sidetracked.”
I pressed mute on the television remote, but turned the closed caption on and walked to the kitchen. On the stove was a spread of baked chicken wings, an assortment of green vegetables and jambalaya. There was pound cake and 2-liter Pepsis on the kitchen table. I made a plate and sat it on the table. I grabbed a cup from a cabinet in the kitchen, put the under the ice maker and waited as ice filled my cup enough to where it would make my drink cold. I opened the 2-liter Pepsi, poured a drink into the cup and got ready to take a seat. As soon as I sat down, my mother walked through the door. Everything that I prepared vanished and the television was no longer on. I sat there and smiled. I was home.