The Next Day After I Graduated from High School

The Next Day After I Graduated from High School

Beings that I was ranked 167 out of 168 graduating seniors in 2019. The one person I was ranked higher than did his work assignments from the county jail in Mississippies, don’t mind my spellin cause I ain’t never been good at nothing but tellin jokes and smokin reefer. Maybe not in that order.

I really didn’t have too many options with a 1.0 G.P.A. I truly wanted to go to Med School and me and my guidance counselor Miss Behemoth applied to 104 Medical Colleges all over the world.

She used to bust out laughing every time I entered her book filled cluttered office. Then just before graduation she tells me in strict confidentiality. She never applied to any of my choices. To save face I say. I know you didn’t that’s why I got excepted at Stanford University. She looked utterly bewildered. I might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I was in the top ten in witticism. I walked out of her office getting the last laugh.

When I got home my mother greeted me at the project bullet holes looking metal door. She says comes in son. I got your bags packed so that the next day after graduation you be movin out. I just walked pass her as I handed her a 5 dollar bag of weed. I truly got to believing that my mother smoked the chronic more than me. No sooner than I place my empty book bag on the two wooden pallets I made for a makeshift bed. Momma Lucy is what she liked to be called, demanded that I go to the store and get her a case of High Gravity beer. On my way out of the door she says and a carton of Newport Cigarettes and this time you little idiot get the 100’s not the short kind.

I knew before my 30^th birthday she would be starring in one of them commercial that depicted an old illiterate black country woman tellin young people why they shouldn’t smoke while she’s shallow breathing and talking inside one of them Jules Verne old scuba diving suits.

Ali the former exchange student from Iran and owner of a 7 Eleven and always bragging about how he ain’t never paid no taxes had Mamma Lucy goods ready for me when I got there.

Rumor has it in the jects and ghetto grape vine secretly believed that Ali was sorta goin with my mom’s. I used to pray that he wasn’t my daddy. The jury is still deliberating on that one, because many say I look just like him. Just a little darker and nappy hair. He hands me an envelope and says happy graduation son. I pretend that I don’t hear that son part.

On my way back home in a hurry with Mamma Lucy’s care packaged. I’m stopped by Reverend Jesse Elsberry. He be wantin to know what I’m going to do the next day after graduation. I never like that hypocrite. I say I got a letter from Pope Frances, beggin me to come to the Vatican so that I could become an Archbishop or Cardinal in six weeks and pretend to be helping black folks in the hood by sleeping with the entire flock of female, wholly than I congregation. He wanted to take that white collar he wore around his neck off and fight me right in the middle of the street in broad daylight, because I was tellin the truth according to the gospel of Peter, Paul and Mary. (Peter, Paul and Mary was an American folk group formed in New York City in 1961, during the American folk music revival phenomenon. The trio was composed of tenor Peter Yarrow, baritone Noel Paul Stookey and contralto Mary Travers. The group's repertoire included songs written by Yarrow and Stookey, early songs by Bob Dylan as well as covers of other folk musicians. After the death of Travers in 2009, Yarrow and Stookey continued to perform as a duo under their individual names). He must have forgotten he was a reverend the way he was cussing at me as I scurried away.

In my cell, I mean my dismal bedroom I took the envelope that Ali had given me out of my back pocket. I didn’t see no money inside as most of the kids received for graduating. There was a letter. I really thought that Mr. Ali Daghestani the inner city shop keeper of the poor had a good sense of humor because the letter was written in Arabic. I knew his last name because it was on all the child support checks Mamma Lucy received. I would hand it over to her after graduation so that she could have something seriously to cuss about.

I get a newspaper out of one of them metal boxes dispensers on my way back to the ghetto asylum. I didn’t have to pay because the glass in the front of the machine was missin. Besides the newspaper was a year or so old.

I had to search the want add for a job. While trying to read the want ad I comes across and ad to join the armed forces. I was excited knowing that Uncle Sam wouldn’t reject me. I pulled out my $689.99 dollar at retail Verizon cell phone and dialed the 1-800 number. When I finally get someone on the line. They say we’re not taking any more candidates at this time, because President Trump doesn’t want any of you potential Coronavirus carrying Mississippians morons to infiltrate his army. My future plan foiled again.

My phone rung and it was my girl friend Angela. She said that she was breaking up with me the next day after graduation. I say how come Honey Pooh Bear. She say because I found someone way smarter than you. I say I’m glad your finally breakin up with me, cause I been wanting to break up with you today. She crying now and asked why. I say because I found someone who doesn’t tip the scale at 500 lbs. and can’t eat an entire cow at the Texas Longhorn Steakhouse. She hung up. But not before I told her that I would be lookin forward to see her on the TLC, My 600 lbs Life program.

It’s graduation day and I’m excited to finally start a new chapter in my life. In spite of all the negative press releases I heard over the years. I plan to be a script writer for comedians. The next day after graduation. Don’t you find this story quite funny?