AN UNUSUAL BIRTHDAY STORY

                                                      

If you thought this is about celebrating birthdays by popping champs in the VIP area, acting a fool to so-called Trap music or whipping and naenae-ing in the club and waking up in the morning next to a blonde-haired stranger with a fat ass, then you can stop reading here.

Real OGs don’t do those things.

This is about a trip to ASDA. (Real OGs do these things). And the seldom trip to ASDA is usually routine: a quick chat with the conscious security man, CJ. You know the usual topics like life, love, lust, ladies…oh and the merits (and demerits) of being young, sexy Black fathers etc etc bloody etc. Then it’s off to the magazine aisle. This is where I cop a FourFourTwo magazine. But not before I check through the fitness mags with their impossible and unattainable banners like:

•     How to get Wladimir Klitschko arms in a week.
•        How to get lats like Manny Pacquiao in 3 days.
•        5 minute abs.

I may be exaggerating a bit but there are a thousand more absurd topics like that which do not make any sense. Which begs the question; why do I still spend precious time skimming through them?  Occasionally, I glance over the women’s mags as well (don’t judge me) which will, more often than not, have even sillier titles. For instance the last one I saw had “How to have a massive bum like Cheryl’s” – or was it Charlotte’s – with a girl with absolutely no ass at all on the cover under the caption! She had the flattest bum I’d ever seen in my ass-checking life. Buttocks so small, they had to indicate what they meant with an arrow. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry initially. But I found myself chuckling quite loudly straight after.

After that, I purchase whatever it is I came to purchase, which is usually patties, and then I’m out of the door like a thief in the night.

On the last trip though, while debating in my own mind whether to cop a FourFourTwo or World Soccer or both, I caught in my peripheral vision, an elderly lady pushing her Zimmer frame while balancing her shopping basket or at least attempting to. She must’ve been 100 or 200 years old.

The sight went straight to my heart. Who allows their great grandmother to come out shopping all by herself? Coming from where I come from, I have the utmost respect and perhaps even a referential fear for the elderly and I felt a compelling urge to help her. If my grandma was still here, I will treat her like a queen. No – scratch that – I’ll treat her like the Queen. This woman could be grandma.

But I was put off by the possibility of spending my whole night going through the aisles with her as she was moving super-slow. There were a few Champions League games pending as well. I can’t miss that for this sweet dear old lady, no chance. So I guiltily went ahead perusing the GQ issue I had in my hands or at least pretended to. After what I thought was enough time not to notice her, I picked a few patties and the guava drink off the shelf and made my way to the self-service check out.

As I was scanning away, I looked to my right for no apparent reason and guess who was smiling at me with her lovely false teeth? Grandma Pat! I could not help it this time, I had to help her…

To be cont…