Whut up Cousin!

You were hanging out at the house that you are sitting tonight, watching a movie and you were getting thirsty. So you walked down the block to the liquor store by your house for some refreshment.

You were standing in line when a couple thuggish gang-stars found their way into the store. One was on a cellphone and the other wandered over to the slurpee machine mumbling "Its a celebration bitches...gimme a muthafuckin slurpee! A muthafuckin slurpee nigga!"

You chuckled. Dave Chappelle is fuckin funny.

The two thugs made the shop their own, walking behind the counter to inspect the condom rack. However, given your experience with these types and the fact that you have spent what is probably far to long in the rough areas of Oakland, you have picked up a few things. You know better than to be confrontational with two of them. If it was just one maybe. But not in groups. Yet you also know better than to avoid eye contact. That is a sign of fear. And they can smell fear. You make eye contact. You watch them. But that's it.

The guy in line ahead of you was at the register taking fucking for-ever buying ice, a liter of coke and some fucking chicken-cheese-jalapeno wrap fucking things out of the warmer. The two thuggish got in line behind you and the slurpee thug set his shit down on the counter.

It was finally your turn and you handed the guy working the register your forty. You heard one of the guys behind you say "Oh shit nigga! Cousins bout ta get his drank on nigga! Cousin's buyin a forty!"

You smiled, and slowly turned around. Making eye contact with the guy you let slip from your lips four words that would change the tone of the entire encounter.

"It's a celebration...Bitches!" you said.

And he fucking lost it.

He was laughing so hard you couldn't help but laugh too. You said "Aiight dog."

To which he responded "Aiight Cousin!"