life imitating art imitating life

I went over Pusha's house yesterday. We haven't seen each other or had any dealings since the last episode so we were long overdo for some quality time. When I got there the only people at the spot were Pusha, Slim and Tiny. Tiny was in his room watching Monday Night Football. Pusha and Slim were in the livingroom watching television.

"What's up Monique," Pusha asks as I walk in.

"Not shit," I say as I sit my bag down on the nearest chair. "What are y'all doing over here?"

"The same thing. Not shit. Getting ready to have a session though."

He pulls out a bag of some of the loveliest chronic I have seen. Maybe it's just the fact I haven't had any in a while.

"Let me see that," I said and grabbed my camera.

"What do you have a camera for girl?"

"She's probably building a case against us. Check her ass and make sure she's not wearing any wires," Slim said and they both grab me and mock frisking me.

"Pusha, don't let that be your way of copping a feel."

"Oh girl, please. For real though, why are you taking pictures of weed?"

"I love taking pictures of anything. Just yesterday I took pictures of my mom, myself in various reflective surfaces and my pancakes I had for breakfast because they looked so good."

I pull the pancake picture up and show it to him.

"What's that on the side of the plate? A notebook? What, you were taking notes on the food as well?"

He gets a kick out of this and so does Slim. They both have a hearty laugh at my expense.

"Nigga, shut up and show me the weed."

"What are you going to do with pictures of weed?"

"Put them on my website."

"You are gonna go to jail."

"Whatever. I'm not naming names, places or telling who bought what. Just show me."

He held the bag of weed up and I snapped a picture.

"Ooh, I don't know if I like the way that picture came out. It looks a little dark. Put it on the table and let me take a picture of it that way."

"Wait, let me make a presentation first." He takes some weed out of the bag and arranges it on the table in a small pile.

"Oh, I don't like the way that one came out. Too much flash. Let me try it again."

"Girl, we ain't gonna sit over here all night and wait for you to take pictures of weed. I guess you consider that shit art. I consider it holding us back from the cipher."

"Calm down negro, let me try it one more time."

"Oh, this is a good one. I got the cigarillo, the chronic, one of the sacks and the handscale nigga."

They start laughing.

"Good," Pusha says. "Let's smoke."

The blunts are rolled and passed back and forth and we converse on subjects ranging from which WNBA players are the hottest to how good Serena looked in that catsuit. We spend an hour clowning back and forth before I decide it's time for me to go. I gather up my camera, put it in my bag and prepare myself to walk out of the door. Pusha is standing there admiring my bag.

"Ay, that's a nice bag Monique. What kind of bag is it?"

I'm not entirely sure so I have to look at it.

"Oh, it's Mudd."

"Where'd you get that from?"

"$18 at the Belz mall nigga. Run along and get you one."

"Why don't you let me have that one? You like Coach better anyway."

"This bag is cool."

"What happened to the Coach bag you always slinging on your shoulder?"

"It wasn't big enough to carry my writer's kit."

"Something like that."

"I think I want you to tell my life story Monique. The streets from a real hustlers perspective. None of that bullshit they have in the movies. I want the real."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I like writing stories like that."

"What kind of a book are you writing right now?"

"A gangsta's story."

"You probably already writing about me." He grabs my bag. "What the hell you got in here girl?"

I try to pull the bag back from him and Slim grabs me from behind. Pusha pretends to go through my things and then hands me my bag back.

"She got a big ass notebook in there. That's why her fucking ass is always taking notes. They gonna wanna come and interview us for the HBO special and everything."

We all start laughing. Pusha then starts to talk in a tone that he thinks mimics mine.

"Tonight I was at the Hustla's house. Nothing big happened. Only one or two smokers passed through. We smoked about three blunts. That is all."

I don't say anything. I just continue to laugh and grin at him.

"I really think you should write a story like that Monique. No one talks about the real shit that goes on."

"Mm hm."

"You gonna do it?"

"Yeah, Pusha, I'll do it."