Tha Roots


À défaut de vous donner du stock constructif je vous partage une soirée à ma job. C’est la retranscription d’une discussion Outlook entre moi à l’entrepot à Montréal-Nord et une collègue qui travaille à Boucherville. On devrait en faire un livre tellement c’est bon. Moi je suis en mauve et elle en noir.

C’est elle qui a commencé.

U r workin’, r n’t u?

Yep, buddy, workin’ as hard as Jesus himself. Yo havin’ fun?

So much fun, man, can’t believe it. It’s like, u know, a big guetto party with vip guests. Hey, I even feel the ryth’m in my fu*&%in’ shoes.

Yo sista, me thinks you read too much shit from tha’ book I gave you. Here’s like a bouncin’ tea party with fuckin’ pudding dumping everywhere. The gehtto hype.
Think i might get tha fuck outta here fo dinner. Stinks a lot in da house.

Hey, r u goin’ eat now? Eat lot’s of fu*&%in’ things, u know, don’t touch , u know, healthy food. Don’t forget the guetto man, like Jlo from the block .

I’m eatin’ at 6:30. And no, i wont ever forget tha roots. Ya know, it’s my fuckin’ bicth soul ya talk here. Never ever loose ya soul, ya ear? ‘Cuz if ya do, man, I don thinks God will save ya in the end of ya shitty black sista gal life. Tha roots is like, the meaning of yo life. Wat the fuck did ya do this mornin’?

This mornin’, i ate with my paternal related, pasta with some cream and smoked salmon and fuckin’ dry tomato. Felt like loosin’ all my guetto roots. Think i’ll eat more guetto things at 8:00, like, u know, roots food. McDonald’s probably.

Yeah, mcdo is better than the shit they give ya at yo place. My belly is full, me think i’ll fucking drown if I fell in wata.

Hey dude, r ya fuckin’ full of some fat and wet food?

Yeah, that chicken was big and fatty. Bleh.

Ya’r chillin’ man! Ya never forget yours roots. U r like one of those fuckin’ guys of first nation u know. You chill but u never forget the place ya came from: the guetto!

I know chap. May-b I should give some sort of, u know, conference to little kids who need instruction and help them wit their problems. Teach the real ghetto life and b happy with the kids and sing rap b-fore bedtime. The chill life, u know?

ya’ll be a philantropist! Ya can call those little kids: guetto kids. Have ’em watch rap video so they’ll know the real chillin’ attitude

Ya could be tha one who give them the real drivin’ attitude. Like shoutin’ stuff to old granpa’s and spinnin’ wheels at stops and lipsync’ over tha greatest chillin’ dudes! U know wat? A bloke just dumped 2 palets of popcorn! Criss fuck, those cost over a fuckin’ grand each. Loads and loads of buck$$$$$ eh?

I would be a great teacha for ’em. They won’t be spoiled cause of me. Hey man, I dunno how u can dump 2 palets at tha same time. I never saw it b-fore. Know what? The transport guy just gave me a chillin’ pen. There’s a fuckin’ pink light inside it.

Gosh, maybe he loves you? Pink never lies. T’was 2 half-palets on the same skid and he crash’d them on the fuckin’ wall while he was goin’ full shit speed down the alley. Talk about a dirty bastard.

A man doesn’t chill with a pink pen with a light inside, he wanna keep his attitude. Dude! talk in understable word! What is skid? Do you mean he had a fuckin’ accident? What the fuck man. The vip party becomes to be boring here

A skid is the fucking wood thing under the stuff, twat! Palet is not, like, a real word. The kid had an accident, but he’s not hurt, ther’ just fuckin’ butter everywhere. Holy crap it’s borin’ here 2. I’m readin’ yo book. Hearts it, it’s frikkin’ funny.

I know that palet is not a real word, but who fuckin’ care. Everything is about chillin’ and guettoin’. Tha rest is empty man, like my problematic zone u see.I think that I’ll watch a movie tonight, maybe those Pirates of the Care-bean (grammar sucks). I’m goin’ to see the third one this week. Sparrow chills ya know, gosh, he understands what attitude means, more than your popcorn bastard.

Ya ya, Sparrow is clearly tha shit. I’ll go see it 2. m-be with u? Ther’s a bloke from Washington carryin’ apples that came ’round our wharehouse. I sent him at yo fuckin’ place. Dont want no apple here.

Fuckin’ idiot. Fuckin’ shit, my pink pen’s dead. Life’s unfair.

Fuck, i’m so sorry for yo pen. Shit happens. Whatcha goin’ to do?

To react to my pen’s death, I wanna drink a big coffee but the asshole coffee machine only gave me a small fuckin’ one. 2 shits in 30 minutes! But, hey man, don’t panic. Ya know i’ll stay cool too. Never lost the attitude i say. 2 hours left, it will be hard, but i take it smoothly. Ya wanna chill at my place this week? Eat in the guetto way?

Sure thing, buddy. We should arrange smthin’ the ghetto way. Like, chillin’ with booze and admiring each other attitude. When r u available? Watcha want ta eat? Smthin’ fatty or smthin’ really fatty and oily and leakin’ in yo finger that yo can lick like beyoncé lick her lips kinda way? I’m gettin the fuck outta here in 45 mins. Yeah baby, yeah. That’s how i lick it.

Man, sometimes, i find ourselves nearly too much cool. Do ya? U can have attitude at my place tomorrow dude or thuesday. Which one makes you chillin’ more?

Tuesday sings ta me. Tmrw i’ll be scrap. I’ll go ta bed late. ‘Got some stuff to do 2night. Yeh, i kno we r the coolest, but let’s get no fat head here. Lets do it with style. Roots, remember? Our personality will bling without words. Shine like a sun sista.

Tuesday we’ll chill. I don’t forget roots, for sure

Peace out, sista.


Peinture par NaomiDevil


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