Sherman showed up at my house this morning. I had just gotten off work. Shifty was sitting in the passenger’s seat when he drove up in the driveway. I was standing at my back door smoking a cigarette just about to go inside. “Fuckin’ A” I muttered aloud to myself at the fact that Shifty was in the car. A feeling of deep dread overcame me. He and his crackhead friends will now know where I live. Shifty often hangs out at Pookie’s house and Sherman plays poker with him. Thankfully, he is not a regular groupie down at the grocery store.
“What up my brotha!” Sherman gleefully exclaimed as he walked up the driveway towards me.
“Come here man,” I said with a stern look as I walked around the side of my house out of Shifty’s view.
I was pissed as hell.
“What be wrong?” Sherman asked as he followed me.
“How many times have I told you to never bring him or his kind to my house,” I said angrily.
“He be cool,” Sherman said nervously. “He be cool.”
“Sherman, he will steal me fucking blind. Hell, he steals you fucking blind and you are a friend.” I said. “And now every crackhead that hangs out with him will know where the baby faced, white-boy lives that has a soft heart for fuckups like you.”
“You ain’t gotta be sayin’ all dat!” Sherman said loudly growing angry as well.
“Well man, how do you expect me to feel?” I asked. “I trust you as a friend and you go and do this shit? I am now going to have to start locking my goddamn doors and taking the key out of my car.”
Man, I got more pissed the more I thought about what Sherman had done. You can’t trust a crackhead. Anybody smoking that shit will do ANYTHING to get more. I don’t care if they were your best childhood friend for twenty years. If they start smoking crack, you can kiss either your money and/or your worldly possessions goodbye. They will tell you how good a friend you are with a big smile on their face while all the time pawning everything you own for a $20 dollar crack rock. Crack cocaine is a fucked up drug. I have had a most unpleasant first hand experience with the police, crack, and crackheads so trust me on this, but that is another tale for another time on this journal.
“What did you want anyway?” I asked starting to calm down a little bit.
“You ain’t be havin’ twenty bucks I could be borrowin’?” Sherman asked sheepishly.
“Fuck man,” I said as I shook my head reaching for my wallet to pull out a twenty dollar bill. “To be a good guy, you sure can do some stupid shit sometimes.”
All this over twenty bucks. At least Sherman always pays me back and you can trust him for the most part unlike Shifty and his ilk.
They say you can judge a man’s character by the company he keeps. This post must speak volumes about both I and Sherman. Jesus, I need to get some new friends to hang out with. My social life is the pits. The thought of Shifty and his merry band of crackheads pillaging my home will do wonders for my paranoia these next few weeks.
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