This is a new Micro-Fiction series called “Jordan & Justin” I’ll be publishing every Saturday. Share this episode and comment some feedback. Hope you guys enjoy. Peace.
My brother makes it seem like I have the quickest temper in the tri-state. But this time it wasn’t my fault. We walked into this shit.
It was election night and we decided to go into the city in an attempt to get out of the house.
This is too depressing for me man. We should go out and find something to distract us from this bullshit election.
Yeah you know Nana gon’ be calling every 5 minutes with a poll update.
Yo you voted my nigga? You a TS?
Fuck is a TS?
A Trump Supporter Grandpa damn do you know how to use a phone?
Gen-Z niggas can’t be real yo. You know we don’t vote. The white man tried to have my nuts blown off in Iraq. Like we need anymore nutless Black men out here.
My brother and I love to snap on eachother. We decided to head to the strip club, we figured that was the last place we’d hear anything about the election. And I don’t think I could have helped my American war veteran urge to cut on CNN if we stayed home.
We went to this strip club in Queens. Middle of nowhere. Perfect place for a nightclub that attracts sex work and high end crime figures.
My brother drove his new Infiniti G37 that he won’t shut up about. He goes to NYU on an academic scholarship. But sometimes I think he’s too smart for his own good. But I’m glad he has some wheels so he can come see his big brother back home in Jersey when he wants. I missed him when I was away.
We got to Queens pretty quick considering the traffic in the tunnel. But when we pulled up we were in for a huge surprise.
Yo why all these niggas got MAGA hats on?
I’m so confused. Since when did bouncers take public political positions at work?
We parked up and reluctantly went inside. They asked for voter registration cards at the door. My brother and I looked at each other in confusion. Apparently that was a joke. We didn’t really get it. Guess we were a tough crowd.
When we got inside I almost turned around. But my brother had already cashed in for $500 in singles.
I’m throwing these on somebody tonight nigga. It is what it is.
They were playing the election on a projector screen. All of the bartenders had on MAGA hats, the strippers were laced in red lingerie with Trump pins on their fake breasts. I wanted to cry. My brother tried to pretend it was about the singles. But really he was thirsty to see this bartender he’d been lusting over on Instagram.
We sat down and tried to force ourselves to have a good time. My brother could see the despair on my face and he thought to make a good joke out of it. He kept taking candids of my bewildered expressions. Trying to make me a “meme.”
It’s not that I’m a democrat or anything. I just don’t believe in elections. And as ignorant as my brother is, he knows better than to believe in that shit. And frankly he’s too lazy to vote anyway. He uses his social awareness as a crutch to get out of responsibilities and accountability. But I appreciate that he likes to pick up a book.
We sat at the bar trying to get too drunk to care. I felt ashamed the entire time, since I had been hitting the bottle pretty heavy since I came back.
He was chatting up the bartender with his “rizz” whatever that means. And somehow he got roped into a conversation about politics.
Baby, you too fine to be so silly. Trump don’t even like Colombians. How you tryna tell me I shoulda voted for him.
In a fit of drunken rage, I interjected.
Why the fuck are y’all even talking about this right now? You want my little brother, a BLACK MAN to praise this devil?
I guess I said that louder than I meant to. Because the music stopped and all of the dancers stopped dancing and the entire club turned their attention towards us. Five of the MAGA hat bouncers charged at us.
Jus what the fuck man?
It didn’t look too good. They all started chanting to get us the fuck out.
They jumped on us and beat us up out of the club. We were on some random street in Queens getting pummeled when a Mercedes truck pulled up.
A familiar face jumped out and pulled us into the back seat and pulled off. I could barely see or breathe through the haze of smoke and my eye being almost blacked shut since I took most of the beating. Until I heard my brother yell.
SPORT! Yerr! What the fuck you saved us son.
Had to come get my Paterson niggas what the hell y’all had going on God?
It was my brother’s hero. My old buddy Sport. He sped away with Tsu Surf blasting from his stereo. Maybe we should have just watched CNN.
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