Hola, amigos. What up? I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya, but things got crazy, if you know what I mean. I got sacked from my job at that one electronics store. They said it was because I was unreliable, but it’s really because my supervisor had a hard-on for making my life miserable. Every time I showed up 10 minutes late, he’d be on my jock telling me to call when I knew I was going to be late. Shit, if I knew when I was going to be late, I wouldn’t be late. I ain’t some fortune teller.
They let me keep my shirt, so I went right over to another location and took a CD player. I know how to take off the tags, so I just put it in my shirt and walked out with it. That’ll show them not to fire Jim Anchower. Anyway, getting fired didn’t matter much, since I got a job the next week at another electronics store half a mile from the first one. I don’t get much in the way of hours, but nobody goes to it, so I mostly just stand around and zone out.
On top of that, I had to do a major overhaul on the Festiva. It was running a little weak, so I decided to give it a tune-up. Change the plugs, the rotor, distributor cap, the oil. Plus the backseat was all full of soda cups and burger wrappers, so I had to throw all that stuff out. Since I wasn’t working, and I was short on cash, I took care of it myself. It only took two trips to the auto-parts store and a couple of hours, so I was all wrapped up by two o’clock. In my book, that’s just the right time to take it out for a spin.
So I was driving along, all laid back and listening to Led Zeppelin, and I saw this smokin’ black chick standing by a broken-down Subaru trying to wave down a car for some help. My first thought was to leave her there, because it was her own fault for buying a Subaru, but then I thought about it: I’ve been there before, stuck on the street with a broke-down car, and people have picked me up. And I wasn’t even hot like she was.
I pulled over and watched her walk toward me. She had all the right parts in all the right places. Long black hair, nice face, and a set that bounced every step of the way. Seemed like the kind of chick that would usually cuss me out for looking at her rack, so I made sure not to do that. She got to the car and told me she was out of gas. I say no problem, I have a gas can and I can take her to get it filled up. So we drive to the gas station, just shootin’ the breeze. Then, I drive her back to the car and make sure everything is working okay.
She gets in and it starts right up, but she gets out and keeps talking to me. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. We must have stayed there for 15 minutes, and then she says she has to go, but would I call her sometime.
Later that night, I was sitting at home just trying to figure out what the fuck happened, when the phone rang. It’s not like I was expecting a call, but I wasn’t not expecting a call, so I picked up. This guy comes on and says, “Is this Jim Anchower?” Now, usually when someone says that, I hang up and don’t answer the phone for the rest of the day, since anyone who uses my last name is some bill collector looking to corner me. But I was a little baked, so I say, “Yeah?”
This guy comes back saying that this girl is nothing but trouble. It took me a while to figure out exactly who he was talking about. It ain’t like I got girls crawling all over me, but I ain’t even made out with the black chick yet. He told me that if I freaked her doggy-style it would be the biggest mistake I ever made. I’m gonna be straight: Until then, I hadn’t thought about how I was going to freak her one way or the other, but no one tells Jim Anchower how not to freak someone.
I would have told him so in so many words, but he kept on talking. He went on and on about how theirs was some kind of unicorn love, that he was a king and I was trying to come between him and his queen and that he was going to make some sort of feast for her and buy all kinds of sheets and pillows. I was waiting to get a word in, but after like 15 minutes of “love her up” this and “do her” that, I started to get a little worked up.
So I hung up on him, and before he could call back, I gave her a call to see if she wanted to go out. She was busy, but she said that she would love to get together the next night. We went out to get a drink and it was cool and all. I was kind of worried that it would be weird because I’ve never gotten with a black chick, but it was just like we were hanging out. We even made out on my couch for a while, which is more action that I’ve gotten in like a year.
Since then, we’ve gone out a few times. That dude, I guess he’s her ex-boyfriend or something, keeps calling me and telling me I about how I shouldn’t stand in the way of true love. He usually goes on like that for a minute and then starts wailing and moaning softly and talking about recipes and fabrics and shit. I got to get caller ID so I can screen him out. I hate to hear a grown man cry. It ain’t dignified.
Jim Anchower joined The Onion’s editorial writing staff in 1993 after several distinguished years on The Come Back Inn dishwashing staff. He comments on community-affairs, automotive, and employment issues. He attended LaFollette High School in Madison, WI.
