12ozProphet

BAD FRIDAY…
See, Friday is traditionally the day a man recieves his pay. He comes home with a little extra pep in his step, singin’ some fly Johnny Kemp tune. You can’t tell him shit; he’s got the groceries. Maybe he grabs a little knick-knack or bric-a-brac for the kids, just a little cheap plastic Chinese something or other, but it makes the shorties scream in delight and tear up the house like they had too much Cookie Crisp Vanilla Wafer Flavor. Maybe he got some flowers from the Korean grocer for his girl, but the way she looks at him says; no flowers necessary, he’s good tonight.

But when you wake up early on a Friday to the sound of your girl on the cell beefing with Optimum cause your Triple-Play is done off like the Philadelphia Phillies and your cable box wont even give you the time of day…
When your banging on the bottom of the Bustelo can, but aint nothing else coming out…
Then when it dawns on you you can’t even shoot someone an e-mail to politely inquire about the status of your invoice, because Optimum got ALL your systems lockdown …
Na Good Friday.

Today call me William Money, a man of notoriously vicious and intemperate disposition.

So if you know me and you owe me, you better find one hundred ways like James Ingram.