The Day I Had a Feud

Summer of 1996 (or thereabouts):
Living at 822 Clayton, Guy in the UNLV Jacket is my roommate. I stop by Quality Dairy on West Willow and meet this chick named Gina who works there. I get her phone number and invite her over “to play cards”. That was the catchphrase back in the day. Gina agrees to come over and I tell UNLV, hey man, this chick looks good.

Gina indeed comes over but I don’t understand it. Whereas she had looked good when I saw her at the store she now looks crazy and she talks kind of crazy too. No matter, her body is still intact and after downing a bunch of beers everything is all good. We end up doing the watchacall.

It turns out Gina lives a block away from me so sometimes I spend the night over there. The more I learn about this chick though the more concerned I get. She has an infant child. I know this because one day she comes over (uninvited and unbeknownst to me) with the baby in a carrier and just sits on the front porch for an hour waiting for me. UNLV comes home and is like “Can I help you?” She says “I’m waiting for teh Mexigogue.” And she has an older kid who’s been taken away by the state. Asked why they took the first kid away, she responds that it’s because she smokes weed. No, says UNLV, they don’t take your kid away because you smoke weed. She must have done something else. At any rate she’s still on probation for something so periodically we have to hide our malt liquor bottles so her PO won’t find out she’s still drinking.

One day we get into an argument at her place and I say I’m about to leave she threatens to push me down the stairs if I try to go. I take a look down: the stairs are steep and hard. Fuck it, I sit down and eat teh chicken gizzards and hearts she has cooked (please, I need you to be more ghetto if that’s possible, this story still hasn’t reached rock bottom yet). At this point I’m really pissed off but I’m not gonna risk life and limb so I decide to wait it out. After she calms down I leave, determined nevermore to be involved with her. Walking away in one piece was a really liberating feeling that day.

The next time she calls trying to invite herself over I tell her it’s all done and that’s that. She asks what I’m talking about, I say she’s just too insane, even for me. She comes back with: “Aw motherfucker, you wanna feud!?!” I’m like what?? No! Where am I even gonna find a straw hat and a shotgun?? No I don’t want to feud, I want shit to just be over! Somehow I talked her down and all was well that ends well. I think I told her “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Yeah, it’s me: I’m just not fuckin’ nutty enough to be with someone like you. And I never got involved with anymore nutty chicks after that, the end!
Those were good days though. It was all part of the magic of living at 822 Clayton.

8 Responses to “The Day I Had a Feud”

  1. Phelps says:

    Shit! My fuedin shirt is at the cleaners!

  2. guy in the UNLV Jacket says:

    Damn it Phelps, How many times do I have to tell you? You don’t wash your feudin shirt!!

  3. Mexigogue says:

    If you have overalls then a shirt is not necessary.

    (neither are shoes but I think that goes without saying)

  4. Mexigogue says:

    Here we go. THIS is how you feud!!

  5. Phelps says:

    Bleh. My people were from about 300 miles west of those Pikeville amatuers. They know how to FUED in Graves Co.

  6. Citizen Quasar says:

    Mexi: “And I never got involved with anymore nutty chicks after that, the end!”

    Bullshit, Mexi. ALL of your chicks are nutty.

  7. Northe says:

    Fuck dude, I thought I dealt with some crazy girls. That one right there just knocked me outta any running. I’m gonna go throw myself down the stairs. You win.

  8. Rae says:

    ~And I never got involved with anymore nutty chicks after that, the end!~


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