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A few nights before the reunion, I got an unexpected call from another of my St. Luke's road dogs. The guy, Devon, was the drummer and group leader of a gospel rock band called The Armor of God. When I answered, he sounded desperate as he frantically chattered, "yo, what's good Jay Red? This is Dee. Hey bro, I need a huge favor, fam."
I was extremely skeptical of what he was about to ask, especially since I hadn’t heard from him in God knows when. But I like I said, he was my homie and a real stand-up dude, so I was gonna do whatever was in my power to hold the homie down. "What do you need, Dee Vizzle?" I questioned in hopes that he wasn't about to ask to borrow money.
"Aw man, I'm just all screwed up right now, broski. I just heard my keyboard player, Big Chucky, got into an accident and fell off his motorcycle."
"Ooh! I'm sorry to hear that. Is he alright?" I asked with concern as I watched the NBA highlights from ESPN on mute.
"Yeah! He’ll be okay, but he fractured both his of wrists because of how he fell. He won’t fully recover for a month or so. Now that leaves me without a keyboard player, and the band is booked up all the way to Thanksgiving. Crazy thing about it, one of our gigs is at the school reunion get-together this weekend. To make a long story short, Jared, do you think you can be my stand-in until Chuck is healed up? "
Although I was relieved to hear that it wasn’t financial, I was ecstatic about the opportunity to be a temporary member of his band, so I replied, "no doubt Dee, just tell me where to be and what time, and I'm there. It’s just as simple as that. I gotcha back, big homie. I'm ready to rock out with you fellas. Just text me the details and I’m all in, Dee Voe.
"Man o' man, Jay Rizzle, you my mother fuckin’ fizzle nizzle. You are a lifesaver, big dawg. I owe you big time, my dude. Oh! And I know you’re wondering about compensation, I can afford to pay you between two to three hundred bucks per show, depending on how big each venue is. But I can guarantee that the next three nights, you are gonna cash out with at least two hundred fifty," Devon confessed as I could feel the tension in his voice.
"That's literally music to my ears, Devon, but yo bro, do me a favor. Stop talking like Snoop Dogg in 92'. All that hizzle, bizzle, fizzle stuff been played out. Or at the very least, tone it down. No disrespect, but I don't want us on stage looking like some washed-up has-beens who are still trying to be hip. You feel me, Dee Voe?" I told him honestly.
Devon giggled heavily. "Yeah! Jay, I feel you, fam’. My fifteen year old nephew be telling me the same thing. I guess I need to listen, but yo, check it out though, my brother. Words can’t express how much you holding me down means to me. I mean, I reached out to a few people, and they all told me no without consideration. Not to say that you were my last resort, but you know what I mean, Jared."
"Say no more, Dee, I totally understand. I'm just doing what God commanded us to do, be there for our brothers and sisters in their time of need. I'm just glad that God has blessed me with my own business which makes my availability a lot more flexible. This is actually right on time, because business has been up and down at the bookstore, so this side money will definitely fill in the gaps for me," I said as I looked toward the ceiling and said a silent prayer of thanks.
"I feel you, dawg. You know the Lord come with that ram in the bush when we least expect it. In this case, I'm your ram and you’re mine, Jay Red," Devon professed as I began to lay out my attire for the night.
"Yes indeed, Dee Voe. Brother, you got me fired up on the Word of God. I mean the Holy Ghost is telling me that we are about to make beautiful kingdom music together. Amen! Let's get it, big dawg; I’m so pumped. I'll see you in a little while, my brother," I said in closing as I joyfully prepared myself for the event.
That night we performed at a local storefront church on the other side of town. Although the space was small and compact, it was standing room only, and I know the spirit of God was definitely in the building. It was such an electrifying experience to see the congregation rejoice and praise to the rhythm of our medley. The sanctified celebration was even more magnified by the heavenly voices of the choir and the energetic yet graceful movements of the praise dancers. To sum it all up, my first performance with the band was a success, and I was dying to do the next one.
The next gig was reminiscent of the first, full of shouting, praising, dancing, and folks catching the Holy Ghost. But the after set, let's just say it was nowhere near what I considered to be Christian festivities. We played at a convention center inside a suburban Courtyard Marriott, which had a beautiful setting. This time, afterwards, instead of adjourning to our hotel rooms, the fellas decided to crash a lesbian wedding reception that just so happened to have an open bar. Devon, along with his other band mates, Randy, Earl, and Calvin, decided to indulge in the free alcohol and mingle with the single women.
After about an hour or two, I looked across the dance floor and saw Randy and Calvin bumping and grinding with some woman; the chick appeared to be clearly intoxicated. I wasn't sure if most of the wedding guests were down with the whole LBGT community. But one thing that I was certain of was that The Armor of God band members were some uncover freaks. Speaking of freaks, somehow we ended up grabbing our instruments and playing songs by requests, which one of many was Rick James' Super Freak.
I'm not gonna act holier than thou and say I didn't partake in the gyrating and booty shaking. By time I finished my third glass of Jack and Coke, I had one of the bridesmaids popping all of her big-boned goodness all up against my slim yet sturdy frame. It reminded me of the frat parties I’d often attended at Northeastern University. Before I knew it, the young lady, whose name I couldn't remember even if you paid me, began dropping down low, getting her eagle on as we played an up-tempo Reggaeton joint.
In midst of all the hip rolling, finger snapping, stomping, and clapping, Earl tapped me on the shoulder and pointed me in the direction of one of the other bridesmaids who was booty popping while doing a handstand against the wall. I swear before God she wasn't wearing any panties underneath her lavender trimmed mint green dress. Speaking of trimmed, baby girl’s cooter cat looked like it hadn't been trimmed since Janet Jackson played Penny on Good Times. I'm talking about that thang looked like the bush before the ram got caught in it.
Besides the lunar eclipse from her bushy bush, the party was pretty lit as the young folks would say. That is until the groomsman, or should I say the bridegroom, scampered her happy ass over to us with her bow-legged self, talking about, "yo fellas, I don't appreciate y'all crashing me and my lady's reception. Y'all need to bounce before things get real ugly."
Before anybody could reply, Randy said what I'm sure we all were thinking. "Get real ugly? It's a little too late for that, sister-brother. You over here looking like Sammy Davis Jr. with some nappy ass zig zag cornrows. Boy! I mean girl, don't get no attitude with us. You need to be mad at whoever sold you that David Ruffin 'Beauty Is Only Skin Deep' tuxedo you wearing. I guess beauty really is skin deep because you look just like that alien that came out of Sigourney Weaver's chest in that third Aliens movie.
“You need to be thanking us for crashing the party because that dude you had up there singing couldn't hit a note if you wrote him a letter, folded it up, and threw it at him. You need to go sit down somewhere, young lady-man, before you get your little Tiny Tim 'it's a wonderful life' walking, I get my looks from my daddy ass feelings hurt."
Me and all the fellas, including some of the wedding guests, burst out laughing which I think royally pissed her off. Next thing I knew, she was taking off her blazer jacket and her slim fit tuxedo shirt. Covered in tattoos that looked like first graders' drawings, she flexed her bird chest wearing a sports bra. Then Earl chuckled himself to tears as he commented, "hey! Whoa! Whoa! Chill out, sweetheart. Don't get your panties all in a bunch. We’re Christian men. We don't fight women, even if it's a woman pretending to be a man."
"Yo bruh! Don't be disrespecting my manhood by calling me sweetheart. I may have been born a female, but I'm more of a man than any of you dudes will ever be. You feel me? Oh, and for the record, I don't wear panties; I wear boxer briefs because that's what my wife likes to see me in. Now y'all fools done violated me and my people by stepping up in here singing y'all stupid little songs without an invitation. So whether you like it or not, it's about to go down," the short, abrasive, skinny lesbian stud announced.
Suddenly, a tall, chubby big breasted, buck-toothed woman with long locks who also was wearing a tuxedo, charged towards us like a rhinoceros escaping the city zoo. She ran up to the other stud and hollered, "what's up, Q-Tip? We got a situation over here? Y'all fools wanna kick up some dust with my homie? Huh? Y'all want beef with us?"
"Yeah, I think so, Moose. These fools disrespecting my testosterone levels. They done made me come up out my shirt and flex these guns on they ass. Now who want a two piece spicy?" Q-Tip asked as she balled up her fists and stood in her fighting stance.
Devon and I stood silent in amusement as Calvin giggled to himself. Then he added his own layer of insults. "Hey fellas, I guess we supposed to be scared of these transgendered Kenan and Kel wannabes because they jumping hard and talking bad. Little girl, put your hands down before I call my sisters up here to play a game of Family Feud and use y'all faces as buzzers."
"On my soul, this punk is so disrespectful. Dude, you already overdue for catching these hands. After all, I did see you and your boy bumping and grinding all over my boo earlier. I started to run up and play patty-cake all upside your head, but I thought you were part of the family, so I wasn't gonna trip. But now...now that I know you fools over here set trippin', it’s really on. On my mama!" Moose proclaimed as she removed her blazer jacket and tuxedo shirt as well and flexed her flabby arm meat.
Calvin continued to antagonize the two infuriated lesbian studs by taunting them. "You lucky I’m a man of God, because if I wasn't, I would’ve been knocked out the Disney Pixar version of Timon and Pumbaa a long time ago. But once again, I'm a man of God, so I'm not gonna lay hands on neither one of y'all. Besides, I know I got God on my side because God sure don't like ugly, and from where I'm standing, y'all looking like the Anti-Christ and the beast from the bottomless pit. Now as far as your boo goes, she chose me and my boy, Randy, because we obviously can give her what you can't. A whole lot of body good loving rocking knocking boots all night long."
"Oh, oh, uh give me some good love!” Randy harmonized behind him to create even more of a taunting effect.
From there, Moose and Q-Tip lost their cool and aggressively lunged towards us, which created a domino effect and caused the whole party to erupt into one big fight. To make a long story short, we ended getting kicked out the party, but the funny part is the bridesmaids that were busting it open on the dance floor somehow found out what rooms we were in and came a knocking after the reception was over. I’m not one to kiss and tell, but let's just say that the fellas and I all got a chance to get a piece of that wedding cake...if you know what I mean. Hopefully, my fiancé, Brittany doesn't know what I mean. (Wink)