I was sitting in my car a couple of yards from my mother-in-law's house after having downed a big plate of Dominican food and some cake & ice cream we had enjoyed in celebration of my son's 11th birthday. I was full and extremely happy with the way everything turned out. It was a good a time as any to spark up my Sunday afternoon blunt.
With a spark of the lighter I was off to la-la land full of high hopes and pipe dreams. The haze filled the air around me with the sweet tangy scent of the kush I was burning with the sound of some soft reggaeton playing in the background.
A hand crept in through my open window and tried grabbing the blunt from my hands. I look over and there is Jim.
Jim is the director and preacher of one of the many churches in my neighborhood. Jim is the type that insists that everyone call him Pastor.
I switch blunts from my left hand to my right hand as Jim continues trying to reach for it questioning my motives for smoking "drugs" in broad daylight.
"Yo Jim, cut the shit man. Stop trying to reach inside my car, man." I tried to plead.
Jim kept on trying to reach for the blunt now in my right hand resting on the center console of my explorer, "It's pastor Jim to you young sir. you shouldn't- "
"Get yo' fucking hand out of my car!" I was starting to get hella annoyed at the audacity of this skinny little preacher.
I put the blunt out and stepped out of my car. Jim tried going on and on about example's and of why I shouldn't be smoking my blunt in my car in front of my house all the while insisting I call him "Pastor".
"Listen Jim, first off you're probably lucky I know you from around the block cuz anyone else would have knocked you upside your damn head for reaching into their car. Secondly, this is weed. safer than your morning coffee, so back the fuck off. Thirdly, I aint no sheep so there ain't no way you can be my pastor. Why don't you go preach to some of these niggas out here that actually want you to preach to them!" I began to annoyingly express while I poked Jim in the chest with every syllable.
Jim stood there trying to think of what to say next. I got back in my car and re-sparked my blunt, this time with the windows rolled up. Jim stood there for about 5 more minutes and walked away to bother the next guy.
Pastor Jim is on some other shit.
