Oh Lord, Help Me Keep My Panties on - By Lynda Burton Page 0,74

then we can go.”

I walked down the steps while putting on my shirt and walked toward the kitchen to let Hobbs out. Hassan followed and paced the kitchen floor. I decided not to rush Hobbs and left him outside. I grabbed my keys, and we walked to the car. I turned on the ignition and looked at the clock and thought to myself, shit, its 4:45 AM, what the fuck!

I got my bearings and headed for the parkway. Thirty minutes later, I was making my way onto the Staten Island Expressway. Another twenty minutes, I was turning onto Hassan’s block. I slowed down and came to a crawl. I was still half-asleep and trying to remember how to retrace my steps since I left my GPS home. This was only the second time I had driven to Hassan’s house, and still wasn’t familiar with the area. All of a sudden Hassan yelled at the top of his lungs. “Drive! Drive as fast as you can! Keep going!” Not knowing what was going on or why I should keep going and being startled, I hit the gas. When I turned around to look at Hassan, and he was gone! What the fuck was going on? As I took my foot off the gas, he yelled again. “No! No! Don’t slow down go faster! Don’t turn here, go straight! Faster! Faster!” I took a quick look around and saw Hassan scrunched and crunched down on the floor of the front passenger seat. It was like he and I were in a drive-by shooting, and he was ducking for cover! If you ask me, it looked as if he was trying to get underneath the carpet.

Here I am, half-asleep. My so-called boyfriend is yelling at me to drive, don’t stop, go faster as if his life depended on it, and I don’t have a clue as to why. I didn’t hear gun shots, there wasn’t anyone on the street, and the only other car on the street besides mine turned off on the last block. I turned around and looked at Hassan again. He was on the floor, scratching at the carpet as if there was a magic trap door! What the fuck! All I could do was sit there in the middle of the street looking at him as if he was delusional?

Well, all of a sudden from out of nowhere, a blue car appeared out of no where and was flying down the street behind us. The car fishtailed up to us as the driver hit the breaks and stopped. The smell of the rubber and smoke quickly filled the air, and I began to choke. Again, I turned to Hassan for an explanation. But as I turned to him for some kind of explanation, all I could see was fear in his eyes as he sat on the floor. I turned around in the direction of the car that had pulled along side of mine and observed a female sitting in the driver’s seat. She literally looked as if she was a cartoon character. She had a long cigarette hanging from the right side of her lip with smoke streaming out of her nostrils. The front of her head was covered with pink sponge rollers and the other half was sticking straight up. Her lipstick was smeared on her face, and her glasses were lopsided on her face. “What the fuck!” I yelled out loud. I turned back to Hassan and saw that he now had his hands over his eyes and mumbling to himself. I turned again to my left and heard her yell. “Hassan, is that you? Hassan, what the fuck are you doing in that car! Hassan, get your monkey mother fucking ass the fuck out of that car, now!” she demanded. I slowly turned around and watch Hassan unfold his body like one of the performers of Cirque Du soleil and emerge from the floor and reposition himself on the seat next to me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You lying mother fucker!” she yelled again at the top of her lungs while exiting her car. “Uh . . . uh . . . hi, Robyn. Look it’s not what you’re thinking,” he said. “I was just getting a ride home from the party I told you about. You see, the guys that went with me to the party wanted to stay longer, so I got a ride home with her,” Hassan said while