The Stories

Da Nugget Story

Da year be about 1991, 'n we had just finished a baseball game, know what I'm sayin'? So its, me, Brian Guiney, and Umair Suri 'n ma dad had just dropped us off at da McDonald's in Englewood, New Jersey n' shit. This be not da most upscale McDonald's yo' ass can eva hope to see (not dat any McDonald's be upscale, but dis one be particularly un-nice) n' shit. So we go in da McDonald's, 'n da entire restaurant be empty n' shit. Da only muthas there wuz da guys who worked there.

So we get our food 'n we sit down, know what I'm sayin'? In da empty McDonald's, man. A few mintues lata in walks dis ghetto girl n' shit. We could tell tha byatch wuz ghetto because tha byatch had on a jumpsuit 'n had braids in ha hair and those big ass earrings n' shit. Yo' ass know, ghetto, know what I'm sayin'? So da ghetto girl be loud, man. Tha byatch seems to know everyone who works there, 'n has a loud conversation wid all of them, know what I'm sayin'? Tha byatch eventually gets ha food.

So afta tha byatch gets ha food, in da empty McDonald's, tha byatch takes a seat, right next to us n' shit. Ah had to get up to let ha in, man. We thought dat a bit odd, but kept on eating, man. Da ghetto girl had a lot of food, know what I'm sayin'? Big Macs, Quarta Pounders, all that n' shit. Everything, dat shit seemed, except Chicken McNuggets, man. A few minutes go by wid idle conversation between Umair, Brian, 'n Ah 'n then all of a sudden, da ghetto girl moved into action.

In a voice attainable only by da ghetto, da ghetto girl inquired, "Ah could get a nugget?," while simultaneously reachin' ova to ma tray, grabbin' ma Chicken McNugget 'n eatin' it, man.

We all looked at her, flabbergasted at what had just transpired, know what I'm sayin'? Tha byatch looked back 'n said, "What?" There wuz nothin' Ah could say, as ma nugget wuz already gone, so Ah just let dat shit go.

A few minutes passed, know what I'm sayin'? We wuz a bit surprised at da ghetto girl, but we kept eating, man. Then, afta a bit of a pause, da ghetto girl's eyes brightened, 'n tha byatch asked, "Ah could has anotha one?"

"No," wuz ma reply n' shit. Dis surprised da ghetto girl a little bit.
"Why not?"
"Because they're mine"
"Fine."

So, dat wuz that, man. Minutes later, ma fatha walked in, man. If yo' ass don't know ma father, dis part will needs some explaining n' shit. My dad be a big ass black guy n' shit. Ah be not 'n all big, 'n not 'n all dark, 'n if we wuz in a crowded room, yo' ass probably wouldn't guess dat ma dad be ma dad, man. So ma dad walks in and starts talkin' to us, know what I'm sayin'? Tha dude be eatin' ma french fries (he didn't ax either, but then again, tha dude paid fo them), askin' us questions, tha dude even mentioned somethin' about da ghetto girl, know what I'm sayin'? Afta a while tha dude goes to buy some food.

Da ghetto girl wuz confused, know what I'm sayin'?
" Yo' ass know him?"
"Yeah, he's ma father."
"oh."

Several moments passed without comment, man. Dat shit wuz obvious dat da ghetto girl wuz deep in thought, know what I'm sayin'? One of da phat minds in history wuz churnin' away n' shit. Finally, da culmination of ha thought processes wuz reached 'n a brilliant conclusion breached da surface.

"Yo' mama's white, right."
"Ahh, yeah."
"oh, ok."

Ah left McDonald's dat day wid one less nugget, but an entirely new outlook on life n' shit. If yo' ass ask me, dat shit wuz a phat trade.